Karen's house was spectacular. Immaculately decorated, a pool in the back. Apparently freeing scumbags paid well.
They stood at Karen's little bar while they talked. She was dressed in a dark green skirt and a light green blouse. Her hair was tousled and ran over her face.
“Karen, if you want to talk, I'm here. If not, I have to go.”
“My client doesn't trust you,” she said.
“I gathered that.”
“She says you're a sellout, an Uncle Tom because you put black people in jail.”
“Heard it all before,” said Jesse. “But that's not what you called me here for, is it?”
“No,” Karen said. She hesitated a moment before going on.
“Jesse, I know we've had our bad times, but I know you're my friend. So I have no fear that you'll report me to the state bar for what I'm about to say.”
“You know I won't do that,” said Jesse.
“All right. Ramona Blake told me that Yancy was killed by two men who also tried to kill her-- hit men, Jesse. Now, before you say what I know you're thinking, let me tell you that she has proof.”
“Good, I'd love to see it,” said Jesse.
“It's at your crime scene,” said Karen. “I'll need you to get it.”
Jesse stared at Karen. She was serious. “Okay, Karen. I can wait and see if this is real. But right now I want you to tell me why you're so scared.”
Karen reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny silver object. “I found this in my office today.”
Jesse took it and examined it. It was a small transistor of some type. “Jesus,” he said. He was thinking about his office phone and the funny sound he'd heard. “It's a bug.”
“Right. I'm not an FBI agent, but I know that's a fucking listening device. It was under the rim on my desk. I bumped into it, and it fell.”
“It wasn't on the phone?” he asked.
“No. And something else. I swear someone was following me all day. I kept seeing these dark vans. When I went to see Ira, there was one parked by his office too.”
“Are you sure about being followed?” asked Jesse, growing uneasy.
“No, but I wasn't taking any chances. I called Ira from my mobile and told him to meet me.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Whatever else is going on, Jesse, Ramona Blake is innocent.”
“Karen--”
“I know you can't do anything now, but I need your help. If Ramona is telling the truth, then this is big, and whoever did it is watching me-- and you too.” She grabbed Jesse's hand. “You're in the government. You can help me go to the cops and do something. “
“Of course I'll help you, Karen,” said Jesse, trying to take this all in. “I don't want that woman to go to prison for something she didn't do.”
“There's one other thing,” said Karen. “Ramona escaped the murder scene with a black metallic briefcase. She said when she went into the bathroom, the case wasn't there, but Yancy and the killer were fighting over it when she came out.”
“What was in it?” asked Jesse.
“She doesn't know. She said it had no latch or seams or something like that. Whatever it is, it was worth murdering the mayor.”
“Jesus.” Jesse sighed. “So did she give it to you?”
“No, why would I--” Karen's face paled. Realization washed
over her. “My God, they think I have it.”
“It makes sense, Karen,” said Jesse. “You're her attorney, and it's evidence.”
“Shit, why didn't I think of that?” She slammed her fist on a table. “Damn, I'm stupid. I was so weirded out by that bug that I never thought of it. Fuck!”
Karen was a perfectionist. Another of her annoying qualities. She hated it whenever she didn't know everything. It made her feel weak, which was the only thing she hated more.
“Don't blame yourself,” Jesse said. “Where's the case?”
“Ramona said she left it with some friends. I took it these friends were on the wrong side of the law.”
Jesse had never seen Karen look so desperate. Behind all the bullshit she was a good friend, and she was right on the mark about that bug.
“Okay, what is this evidence at the murder scene?”
“It's a tape,” said Karen. “Yancy used to audiotape their lovemaking. He was too afraid of video. He had a tape player hidden in the headboard of his bed.”
“So the murder might all be on tape? That would certainly be exculpatory evidence,” said Jesse.
“Yancy didn't think Ramona knew about it,” said Karen, “but she did. So, unless somebody got to it, it's still there.”
Jesse thought a moment. It was unlikely that Karen was leading him on. Either the tape was there or it wasn't. If Ramona Blake was innocent, then a lot of troubling things about the case made sense.
“Okay, let's go get it,” said Jesse.
25
Wetwork
The dark blue van cruised along the freeway headed downtown. The big man was glad to be rid of his meddlesome partner for a while. He was getting tired of his partner's bitching about being hurt and getting back at Ramona Blake for cutting him. He was a weight, and this would be their last time working together.
He'd sent the injured man off into the neighborhoods to see if he could find out if Ramona's drug-dealing friends had the black case. It was a lead that he'd forgotten about, and at this point he could not leave any stone unturned.
He was upset that Louise Yancy was free, but they had lucked into another suspect for the murder. The Blake woman was in prison and had been moved to a security hospital. That was good. Security at the hospital was minimal, so it would be easier to get to her.
But Ramona was not his primary concern these days. It was her lawyer, Karen Bell, who interested him. Lawyers always get their clients' property, and if the lawyer had the black case, he was going to get it and close this worrisome matter forever.
Jesse King, the prosecutor, was seeing a lot of Karen Bell for some unknown reason. He could be fucking her, but it didn't seem likely. He'd been counting on King to force Ramona Blake's lawyers to move for the case. Jesse looked like he might be trouble. He was smart and obviously weak for that lady lawyer. He would bear watching.
His mobile phone rang. He picked it up and turned it on. He heard a series of clicks, then: “Status.”
“Nothing else yet,” said the big man.
There was a silence as the mobile line crackled. The big man held the little phone to his huge face, waiting for his employer to respond.
“I'm growing impatient. “
“I know. Everything is under control.”
“How can that be? I don't have my property.”
“I'm on the case. That's all I can say right now.”
“You'd better say a hell of a lot more than that, goddammit! I've put my life on the line for this. The girl is still alive. Double dead. That was the contract.”
“Yes, but things went wrong.”
“Understatement is really a talent of yours. I want the matter closed.”
“It will be, but there might be more casualties along the way.”
“I don't want any more killing! Just bring me the case. I don't care if you kill the Blake girl, but no one else, do you hear me? People will become suspicious if more deaths are recorded. We need to operate undercover. Things have to be discreet, like military wetwork.”
“I got it.”
“You don't sound like you got it. I want to hear you tell me.”
The big man pulled the little phone from his face and cursed. He hated this treatment, but it was part of his job.
“No more killing,” he said, but he knew it was a lie.
“Now get me that black case. The sooner you get it, the sooner you can get the rest of your fee and get out of my life.”
There was more silence on the line as the big man cursed again under his breath.
Then his employer spoke again. “You fail, and y
ou're dead, you know that, don't you?”
“Yes, I know.”
The line went silent.
26
Last Words
The throng of media had gone. Only police surrounded Yancy's house now. The affluent neighbors were probably pissed about all the action. Rich folks like their privacy. The beautiful colonial was draped in yellow “Crime Scene” tape. The big, shadowy house looked haunted as the two lawyers approached it. Jesse was thinking that only weeks before, the killer had walked these same steps.
Two uniformed cops let Jesse and Karen into the house. It was dark inside. Jesse turned on lights and went upstairs.
The bedroom was still filled with evidence markers. The body outline was even still there. Jesse and Karen both were apprehensive. They'd been in the room before, but now it was different. They were looking for the first clue to a cover-up.
Jesse went to the ornately carved headboard. He noticed that in the middle there were several tiny holes, holes that didn't fit the carved pattern in the mahogany. He pulled out the bed and looked behind it. Karen peeked over his shoulder. He put on rubber gloves and felt the back of the headboard. He stuck one arm behind the big piece of wood.
“There's something here,” he said.
Jesse struggled with the compartment he felt in the headboard. Karen looked on impatiently. She couldn't see behind the headboard, and it was driving her crazy.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“There's a compartment, but it's stuck.” Jesse continued to struggle. He shifted his angle and put both hands behind the headboard.
“Want me to take a crack at it?” Karen asked.
“No ... I got it,” Jesse said as he pulled out a small micro cassette player. “Holy shit,” he said. “She was telling the truth.” The gravity of the moment fell upon him. He was about to open the door on the biggest scandal in the history of Detroit.
“Give it to me,” said Karen.
“Wait,” said Jesse. “This is evidence for the state's case.”
“Jesse, I told you where it was, so it's mine.”
“I don't believe you, Karen.” Jesse waved the recorder, gesturing. “We are on the verge of something like this, and all you can think about is glory. You will never change.” Jesse looked closer at the cassette. The life drained from his face. “Dammit. The tape is gone.”
“What! Let me see....” Karen looked at it. “Shit! They must have known it was there.” Jesse and Karen took a moment, cursing under their breaths. Karen sighed heavily. “Why would they leave the recorder?” Jesse asked, almost to himself.
“I would,” said Karen. “I'd put it back just in case anyone knew about it. That way they wouldn't suspect anything. The tape is all that matters.”
“Is it possible that your client took the tape?” asked Jesse.
“Anything's possible, I guess. But why would she do it?”
“Maybe it incriminated her,” said Jesse.
“I don't think she's that smart,” said Karen. “I know it sounds elitist, but she's a very simple girl. And she's scared.”
Jesse put the recorder into a Baggies. He'd have the cops dust the headboard for prints again, but he knew that it and the recorder were clean. If there was a conspiracy, these were not dumb people.
“Now what?” asked Karen.
“I guess we find that black case,” said Jesse. “So, you gonna be okay tonight?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Good, I'll call you tomorrow.” They walked out of the room, then the house. Jesse made sure to hide the recorder in his coat as they passed the patrolling cops.
Jesse dropped Karen off at her house, then headed home. Karen fought with him about the tape recorder and managed to talk Jesse into letting her have it after he ran it for fingerprints. Jesse did not put up a big fight about it.
Because he had the tape that had been inside it.
He'd removed it in his fake struggle behind the headboard. Karen had been so frazzled that she didn't notice when he put his other hand back there and removed it. Jesse had slipped the tape up his sleeve, then pocketed it when she looked at the empty recorder. He used to steal candy like that when he was a kid. Old habits die hard, he thought.
It was dishonest given the circumstances, but Jesse knew Karen. She would have broken the story to the press and covered herself in glory, making him look like a fool. If there was exculpatory evidence on the tape, he'd let her client go, but he was not about to hand her control of the case on a silver platter.
Jesse pulled the car into a Rally's parking lot. The place had about ten cars in it, and the drive-through was packed. The smell of burgers reminded him that he had not eaten dinner.
“First things first, “ Jesse said aloud. He rummaged through his briefcase in the car, took out his gun, a .38, and carefully placed it to one side of the case. Prosecutors were allowed to carry guns, and he wanted his close. If there was indeed a conspiracy, he was not going down easy.
Jesse removed his own microcassette recorder. He carefully removed the cassette from his pocket and put it in.
Jesse rewound the tape, then hit the button. Soon he heard the sound of a couple making love. A woman singing. The voices rose as orgasm was achieved. There was silence, then:
“I can feel your heart, “ a woman said on the tape.
“The whole state can hear that bum ticker going, “ said a man.
“Yancy,” Jesse whispered. It was sad and eerie hearing his voice. There was more talk, then:
“You taking a shower, Ramona?” Yancy said.
“Bingo,” Jesse said. Now he knew that Ramona Blake had been at the murder scene.
Just then a van pulled next to Jesse. Swiftly he turned off the tape. The door of the van opened, and a family came out. The father and mother were arguing loudly, their kids following behind them in silence. Jesse started the car and drove into a far corner of the parking lot before turning the tape back on.
Jesse heard more noises, a door closing, then a very loud rattling and banging. The noises stopped, and the tape went silent. He kept listening, but the rest of the tape was blank.
“Damn,” Jesse said.
But at least Ramona Blake was telling the truth about the tape. The fact that it was there meant that she wasn't lying, he thought. “Unless she was the one who turned it off,” he said out loud. At trial the tape would be great evidence, provocative and sexy, but ultimately it was inconclusive. All it did was put Ramona Blake at the scene, and they already knew that. Jesse would argue that Ramona Blake could have easily turned off the tape, then killed Yancy. Karen would argue that the killers turned off the tape.
All he really knew now was that he was in extra-deep shit with Karen. If he told her about the tape, she would swear that he'd erased the part that proved her client innocent. If he hid the tape, he'd be guilty of nondisclosure. Either way he was screwed.
Jesse pondered this for a moment. Then he decided that Karen would just have to believe him. He was putting his neck out for her, so she damned well better trust him on this one.
Jesse forgot about his hunger and started the car. He pulled onto the street and headed for home. The existence of the tape might not prove Ramona Blake's innocence, but it didn't prove her guilt either. He was back where he started, with a weak case and his gut telling him something was terribly wrong.
Jesse pulled up to a traffic light and stopped. He put the tape in his briefcase, then took the .38 and placed it under the armrest.
27
Encroachment
Tico didn't mind killing the people in the house. It was taking it over and trying to run it that scared him. Cane was off checking out some new supplier from the East Coast. But before he left, he'd finalized their plan to start a takeover of the Nasty Girls' territory. The house in question was just across Woodward close to the Davison Freeway. It had only been doing business for a month or so. They were small-time, but taking a house in their territory
was symbolic, or so Cane thought. Tico might have been able to talk him out of it until LoLo's women hit them at Belle Isle. Now it was in Cane's blood to get them back.
Tico and Walker sat in a car at the corner from the house. Two other men were positioned behind the house. It was dark, and that cover would serve them well.
Cane had been specific that no one was to be killed. He rambled on about its being more scary now not to kill after what he had done to that girl's face. But Tico was sure it could not be done that way. A dealer never wanted to go out like a punk. And even though the house had only one armed guard, that was enough to make bullets fly.
Their plan was simple. The house had a guard, who stood out in front. The other rollers would enter from the back and take the house. Then they would pop the guard.
Hitting the house made some sense, but Cane wanted them to take it over and run it after they did. The Girls would come down on them hard. Cane had even said that he'd come there himself to work. He was not one to shy away from danger.
“Let's get this thing done,” said Walker. His Jamaican accent was thick with his excitement. He cradled a big Colt .38 Python in his lap. “I'm gonna hit a reggae club tonight.”
“Reggae,” said Tico with disdain. “I hate that shit. It all sounds the same.”
Walker shot Tico a nasty look. “I'm gonna take you to Jamaica one day,” said Walker, “and you will sing a different tune.”
The men sat in silence for a while. They kept watching the house and the guard posted outside it.
“Cane must be crazy making us do this,” said Tico.
“Too late for complainin' now,” Walker said. He looked out of the window. “And Mr. Cane hasn't put us on the wrong track yet.”
“I don't like this shit,” said Tico. “These bitches are not to be taken lightly. They kill just like we do. I gotta talk to his ass about this.”
Double Dead Page 16
