“Fuck that,” said Jesse. “Let me go to the holding cells and see for myself.”
“I can't do that,” said the young cop.
“Why the hell not?” said Jesse. “I go visit defendants there all the time. “
“Got orders just today. No civilians of any kind in the back,” said the young cop.
Jesse bolted for a door leading to the holding cells. The young cop jumped from behind her desk and followed him. She instinctively had her hand on her weapon.
“Come back here!” she said.
But Jesse was gone. He went through the door and down the hallway. The cop was right behind him, yelling for help. Dick Steals, still in the lobby of 1300, turned, cursing under his breath, and walked out.
Ramona tensed when Beletti walked back into the room. Something bulged under his rumpled jacket. She stiffened all over.
“Time to stop fuckin' around with you.”
“I want my lawyer.”
“Who helped you kill the mayor?”
Ramona said nothing.
Beletti walked her way, hand inside his jacket.
Loud voices sounded from the hallway. Beletti stopped. He went to the door, where Ramona saw him whisper to a uniformed young black cop. Beletti looked upset, then left. The young black cop came in. He stopped and looked at her with hatred. Then he took off her handcuffs and led her back to her cell.
Ramona sat down hard on the bench that was supposed to be a bed. She was hungry, and someone had taken the food away. She wondered for the first time if LoLo and the others were okay. That Cane person was obviously a smart man. He'd hit them, then called the police as part of an elaborate setup.
Now she fully recalled why she'd gotten out of street life. It was dirty, dangerous, and-- She stopped herself. She'd given up dealing for what? Sleeping with rich men, and look where it got her. In jail with a murder charge hanging over her head.
They would drag her through the system, vilify her in the media, then send her to prison, where she would be killed by some crusading fanatic out to avenge Yancy's murder.
Ramona perked up as the familiar scent of perfume reached her. It was an expensive scent, but she couldn't remember the name. Too good for some streetwalker, she thought.
Then she saw an attractive woman walk up to her cell. A black plainclothesman was with her. The cop was tall and very good-looking. He opened the cell. The woman looked at the cop and smiled. He smiled and took several steps back. The woman stepped inside.
“I'm Karen Bell,” she said. “I hear you need a lawyer.”
21
First Chair
“Obviously the police got carried away,” said D’Estenne. “They loved the mayor, and they wanted to squeeze her.” “So they violate her civil rights and blow the case to hell?” Jesse asked.
He was in D’Estenne's office with Dick Steals. The cops had been holding Ramona Blake for almost a day and had told no one. Now Karen Bell was on the case, and all hell might break loose. Karen had gotten to Ramona and was now her lawyer. It was a conflict of interest, but one that disappeared if Louise Yancy was released.
“You act like you're mad at me, Jesse,” D’Estenne said.
“I'm sorry,” said Jesse, “but we should have been notified. In any event we have a problem. This case could be over before it begins.”
“Why?” D’Estenne asked.
“Because her rights were violated.”
“Jesse,” said Dick Steals, “there's no way we're not going to get a chance to prosecute this Blake woman. Everyone wants blood for this murder. We can cop to what the police did, and no judge on the bench will kick the case.”
“But we won't,” said D’Estenne. “Let the defense whine about it. No one will care.”
They were right, Jesse thought. The infraction was minor even by big-city standards. He took a seat. His anger was not with the cops but with D’Estenne and Dick Steals. He didn't like their quiet, secretive manner and their quickness to downplay a constitutional violation. He tried to forget that they were white and he was not.
“Okay,” said Jesse, “let's say the case doesn't pop. What do we do with Louise Yancy?”
“We let her go,” said D’Estenne. “I've already started the ball rolling.”
Jesse was floored. Louise Yancy was going to walk because they now had another body to fry for the murder of the century?
“Well, I'm glad I was consulted,” he said.
“I still run this office,” D’Estenne said sternly. “Besides, her alibi witness stepped out.”
Jesse and Dick Steals both looked shocked.
“When did this happen?” said Dick Steals. He seemed upset that D'Estenne had not let him in on this secret.
“Last night I got a call from Ira Hoffman. Seth Carson and his wife are divorcing. Carson saw no reason to let Louise Yancy go on suffering. Louise is quite a lady. I called her and personally apologized. “
Jesse was shocked but relieved. Louise Yancy didn't belong in jail. But he was still unsettled by the shadowy way D’Estenne was handling the case.
“Forget all that, Jesse,” D’Estenne said. “I have good news. The Yancy case is now yours. This young girl looks good as the killer now. I need Richard to work that corruption probe out in Dearborn. You can choose your own second chair.”
Jesse didn't know what to say. On the one hand, it was good to be free from Dick Steals. On the other, it was typical of D’Estenne to pull a white prosecutor from a case that no longer had race card potential. Prosecuting Ramona Blake was not nearly as sexy as prosecuting the mayor's wife.
“Thanks, Frank,” Jesse said, choking on the words.
“No problem,” said D’Estenne. “I know you'll do a great job. My only order is that you keep me informed at critical stages, and I want a list of all evidence obtained.”
Jesse didn't know how to respond to that last request. It was unusual, but the case was still important.
“No problem,” he said.
“Good luck with Karen Bell,” said Dick Steals. “She's a real ball-buster. “
Jesse got up and left, not bothering to look back. Something
smelled really bad here, and he was afraid that it was coming from his own house.
Once in his office he sat down and reached for his phone. He had put the receiver to his ear when he heard the static hum again. It was faint, a whisper, but noticeable enough that he stopped dialing. Jesse hung up the phone and picked it up again.
This time he was sure he heard it.
Jesse got up and went into the offices of Pete Saunders and Peter Janowski, across the hall. Pete & Pete were on a trial as usual, and the office was empty. Jesse picked up their phone and heard only the dial tone. He hung up and listened again. Nothing.
Jesse went back to his office and listened to his phone. No, he hadn't imagined the noise. The static hum was there. Jesse's heart started racing. Was this real or was he paranoid? After today's events he didn't feel like taking chances. He picked up his briefcase and left the building.
“l owe you one,” said Karen Bell on the phone.
“Think nothing of it,” said Jesse. After becoming sure his phone was bugged, he'd gone to a local restaurant that had a nice, secluded phone booth in the back. “How'd you get in to see her?”
“This cop I used to date got me in,” said Karen. “He's an inspector now.”
“When Richard couldn't be reached, I got suspicious. These guys will never learn. You can't fuck the system like that.”
“My little Boy Scout,” said Karen. “Hey, thanks for letting my other client go. Ms. Yancy is comfortably free of charges.”
“Well, she has an alibi now,” said Jesse. “I bet tonight is the first night in weeks her boyfriend, Seth Carson, won't shit his pants.” They both laughed. There was a silence on the line, then:
“I dreamed about you last night, Jesse.”
“Karen, don't start.”<
br />
“I did. We were in Mario's. I offered to go down on you and you said yes.”
Jesse sighed. He was visualizing it and couldn't stop. “Karen, why do you do this to me?”
“You want me to, and you know it.”
“No, I don't,” said Jesse. “I'm spoken for, and you know it.”
“Oh, that's right. You have a girlfriend. How is old plain Jane what's-her-name?”
“Fine,” said Jesse. He waited a second, then added, “Actually, we just set a date.”
More silence on the line. Jesse had not thought before saying it. A woman never likes to see a former lover going on with his life. It makes her feel used, old, and sad. Jesse felt bad having to tell her on the phone like this.
“Congrats,” said Karen a little flatly. “So, I need a favor for my new client, Ms. Ramona Blake.”
Karen was all business again. Jesse could tell she was hurt.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I need you to tell me what Louise Yancy's ‘information’ was.”
“Oh, that. Well, it's all very cryptic, actually. She told me that her husband was up to something big before he died. She thinks it had something to do with that casino thing they keep bringing up.”
“Gambling?”
“Right. But she had no names for me,” Karen said. “And apparently Mayor Yancy was going to propose a new business coalition for casinos. He included a lot of influential Michigan business people.”
“Michael Talli on that list?” asked Jesse.
“No,” said Karen. “He was not part of it anymore. Talli and his crooked-nosed men were shut out.”
“That's useful,” Jesse said almost to himself. “Did Yancy change his mind about casinos? Because if he did...”
“No,” said Karen. “But he was determined that blacks share in the wealth.”
“I see,” said Jesse. He took a moment, then: “So, Karen, I suppose your new client, Ramona Blake, is innocent too.”
“Of course,” said Karen. “I don't have the whole story yet, but I'll get it. Which brings me back to my favor.”
“What is it, Karen?”
“I need Ramona Blake out of jail.”
Jesse almost laughed. “This is a joke, right?”
“I wish it were, Jesse. She's not safe in there. Word has already gotten around that she killed the mayor. And in case you didn't know, the cops beat her, threatened her life, and violated several parts of a little document called the Constitution.”
“Okay, Karen,” said Jesse. “I know we fucked up, and if you say that in court, I'll deny it. Anyway, what do you want me to do, get her into Club Med?”
“No, a security hospital. She's got injuries, so it's legit. I don't care if you put a hundred cops on her room. In fact I'd like that.”
Jesse hesitated, thinking this over. He didn't want to show weakness this early on, but he knew that Karen was right. The Blake girl was in danger.
“Okay,” he said. “I'll see what I can do. But if she tries to run, you know they'll shoot her dead. “
“You're a saint,” said Karen jubilantly. She waited a moment, then: “I hope you're very happy with your new wife.” She hung up before he could say anything.
Jesse hung up still a little upset that he'd told Karen about his impending marriage over the phone. He walked out of the restaurant and headed back to work. He'd given in to Karen rather easily, but he had to. If he didn't help protect Ramona Blake, she might not be alive much longer.
22
Island Games
LoLo looked over the long table of weapons in the basement of the old house. Glocks, Smith & Wesson's mini .357, a Taurus .45, and other assorted weapons were all assembled in a neat row. She was using a little house on the east side as a temporary base until she could finish with Cane.
Pierre Reed stood proudly next to his arsenal. He was a thin white man with wild blond hair and a little mustache. He was a licensed gun dealer, but this part of his trade was strictly off the books.
“This ain't shit,” said LoLo. “I can get this anywhere. I need something that's gonna fuck people up when I use it.”
“I just got the regular shit,” said Pierre. “Handguns, shotguns, double-action--”
“Stop fuckin' with me, boy,” said LoLo. “I know you carry special stuff. You sell it to the men. I wanna see it.”
Pierre didn't seem to care for LoLo's demand, but he was not about to say anything back to her. “Okay, okay,” he said, relenting. “Be prepared to pay, though.”
He went outside and returned shortly with a little case. Yolanda said nothing as she stood behind LoLo watching the white man. Pierre pulled out a black gun with a short barrel and two twisting metal cylinders on the end. It was a nasty-looking weapon with a thick trigger and a red seal on the stock.
“This is a mini Mack-10. We call it a Stiletto.”
“Now you talkin', goddammit,” said LoLo.
“Hold up a second,” said Pierre. “Lemme tell you somethin'. These things are special. A group out west developed them for urban assaults. I got them while they were being tested.”
“I don't want the shit if it don't work,” said LoLo.
“I didn't say that;' said Pierre. “They wanted a machine gun that could fire more shots at a faster rate. This little baby can shoot its magazine of thirty in about ten seconds.”
“Get the fuck outta here;' said LoLo.
“If I'm lyin, I'm flyin',” said Pierre. “I only got one right now. They are hard to come by.” He reached into the box and pulled out a clip. He put it in the Stiletto, then handed it to LoLo.
The weapon looked like a toy with its shiny black snout and fiery red seal. Pierre cocked it for her. “Now it's hot,” he said.
“Stand back,” said LoLo.
Everyone moved aside, and LoLo looked for a target. She aimed toward a wooden wall. She pulled the trigger, and the Stiletto jumped in her hands. The kick actually pushed her back a few inches. The barrel blazed red and yellow as the gun spit out the bullets. In a few seconds the gun was empty.
“Damn!” said LoLo. She went to the wall and examined it. There were holes all over it. Big ones. “How much?” she asked.
“Thing ain't safe,” said Yolanda.
“I don't give a shit,” said LoLo. “Cane dropped on me to the cops and killed Sheri and stole my money! Fuck him. I'm gonna take him out, and I don't want no doubt about it!”
“Ten big,” said Pierre.
“Ten!” said LoLo. “So, you just gonna jack me, right? You wouldn't charge a man ten big for this piece of shit.”
“Lemme tell you somethin',” said Pierre. “I'll give you a special price if you throw in that.” Pierre pointed to the black metallic briefcase sitting at LoLo's feet.
“No,” LoLo said. “That belongs to a friend.”
“You don't even know what you got there, do you?” said Pierre.
“I don't care what's inside,” said LoLo. “It's not for sale.”
“It's not what's in it. That's a government briefcase, real secret agent-type shit. See how it has no seams?”
“Can you open it?” asked LoLo.
“No,” said Pierre. “But I might know someone who can. So what do you say, ten percent off for the case?”
LoLo thought a second. Pierre was a smart businessman. If he wanted the case, then the damned thing was worth ten times what he was willing to pay.
“No deal,” said LoLo. “I'll have to get that ten to you later. Until then I'll give you a thousand and you hold this gun for me. And if you sell it, I'm coming to find your ass. Yolanda, give him the money.” Yolanda stepped forward and counted out some bills to Pierre.
“Okay,” said Pierre, “but my offer for that case is still open if you change your mind. “
LoLo didn't answer. She picked up the Stiletto and aimed its black barrel, looking down its angry red sight.
Cane was thinking about sex. After setting up the Nasty Girls, he wanted to ind
ulge himself, kind of a celebration. It was not like him to get aroused by violence, but this was special, a particularly sweet occasion.
After he had killed the female roller with the spiked glove, a story started that he was a maniac, a monster. The story mutated, and in its current incarnation he was peeling the girl's face off with his bare hands.
Cane heard on the street that crackheads all over town were paying off debts and young rollers were joining his crew. Fear was working. The streets were buzzing with his name. Cane was becoming a legend, larger than life. Soon the mere mention of his name would frighten people.
So he was thinking about fucking somebody, a christening to his legacy. But he decided against it. Sex could be a clumsy and vile undertaking. It depleted a man's power and wasted valuable time. It also gave your sexual partner personal information that tended to humanize a person. And he didn't want that.
Cane was with Tico on Belle Isle. They were parked by the shore, watching the river. It was evening, and the October sun was setting, its edges turning orange and red. God was leaving the earth, and Cane had won yet another day of life.
The young folks were just starting to come on the island. Cane loved Belle Isle. Coming there as a boy was one of the few fond memories he had as a child.
“Island's fillin' up,” said Tico.
“Yeah,” said Cane.
“Shouldn't we be gettin' on? The Girls still own this place.”
“Fuck them,” said Cane. “Their shit's finished.”
“LoLo didn't get picked up by the cops,” said Tico. “She's still out there.”
“Only a matter of time. Her people are freakin'. They don't wanna go against me. And when we take her house, it's all over for them bitches.”
“Cane,” said Tico, frowning, “I still don't know about that shit. Why do we need to do that?”
“She won't expect it,” said Cane. “That's Why. Tico, you got to remember: Always do the unexpected, no matter how dangerous it is.” Cane put his hand on Tico's shoulder. “I got some business, but you and Walker can take the house. It's small-time, but it's in her territory.”
Double Dead Page 14
