“Talk after we get this thing done,” said Walker.
“You gonna back me up?” asked Tico. “You know how Cane can be.”
“Against Cane?” Walker asked, laughing. “He is your boy. You know how he is. You can fight that one alone, my friend.”
“Sorry-ass nigga,” said Tico. Suddenly he saw a light flash from a window in the house. “The shit is on,” he said.
Tico and Walker drove up to the house. They heard several shots from inside. The guard pulled her gun. Walker shot at her but missed. To their surprise the girl ran away.
Tico and Walker ran into the house, guns out in front of them. When they got inside, they saw their men, dead on the floor. There were about ten women rollers, with guns pointed at Tico and Walker.
Tico lifted his gun, only to feel Walker's .38 at his temple.
“No future in workin' for a crazy man.” Walker took Tico's gun away from him.
Tico took a swing at Walker and missed, as the latter sidestepped the punch. Walker hit Tico hard in the stomach. He doubled over from the blow.
“That's for dissin' Jamaica, you little bitch,” Walker said. He moved over to the women, and Marly stepped out to meet him. She was wearing a low-cut top, and her ample chest bulged out of it. Walker kissed her hard on the lips.
“You dead, Walker, you hear me!” Tico yelled.
LoLo stepped from the crowd. Yolanda followed, carrying a gun. They looked strange together, the big woman and her short, mean-looking boss.
“This just ain't your night, my brotha,” LoLo said.
“Go on,” Tico said. “Do what you gotta do.”
“Sorry, but killing's over for tonight,” said LoLo.
Yolanda stepped forward and hit Tico in the ribs. He fell to one knee, grunting loudly. The second punch to his head dropped him cold.
28
Messages
Jesse returned home, feeling less nervous about the tape inside his briefcase. He considered waking up D’Estenne at home and bringing him the tape. But if he did, that would be the last he saw of that tape. D’Estenne would take it and hold a big press conference announcing that he'd solved the case. D’Estenne wanted to win reelection so badly that he'd screw anyone at this point.
No, he needed to wait awhile. First he had to make a copy of the tape, then log it into evidence under his name to have a record. After that he could give it to his superiors.
Jesse parked and walked into the lobby of his building. After the night's activities he was ready for a hot shower and bed.
As he entered the lobby, he noticed a big man in a dark coat and a black fedora standing next to the guard in the lobby. The big man was black, hard-looking, like he was fresh from beating someone down. Jesse knew that look, a cop look. The big man's gaze locked on Jesse. He slowed down as he walked up to him.
“Jesse King?” asked the big man.
“Yeah, that's me,” said Jesse.
“I'm from the police. I need to talk with you.”
“Really? Well, let me see some ID first,” said Jesse.
“He wanted to go in your apartment, Mr. King,” said the guard named Renaldo. “But after that thing with your sister, I said no.”
“Shut the fuck up and earn your minimum-ass wage,” said the big man. He shoved a badge in Jesse's face.
“Nicks? Walter Nicks?” asked Jesse.
“Right,” said Nicks. “I've been looking for you,” said Jesse. He walked to the elevator. “Come on.”
The two men got into the elevator. They said nothing as the car rose. Nicks had been Yancy's personal bodyguard and had a reputation for being unstable. Nicks had also disappeared when the investigation started. A lot of the missing pieces resided in his head, Jesse thought, and now all of a sudden here he was. Something was not right, and Jesse did not feel safe around the cop.
The elevator stopped, and they got out and went into Jesse's apartment.
“I need to talk to you about the mayor's death,” said Jesse.
Nicks pulled out a big .44. “We need to talk, all right,” he said.
Jesse was shocked but stayed calm. He met Nicks's stare and held it.
“Okay. But put that thing away first or I'm not telling you anything.”
Nicks kept his stare and the big gun on Jesse. Jesse looked back into his eyes, not looking at the gun. He knew the classic cop intimidation. Most people were afraid of guns and violence. They lost their composure, thinking only of safety. If he broke, Nicks would have an advantage. It was times like this that he was glad that he was from the wrong side of town.
Finally Nicks slowly lowered his gun. Jesse put his briefcase on the floor and walked away from it.
“Got balls for a lawyer,” said Nicks. He seemed a bit distracted now as he put the gun away.
“Wanna tell me what this is all about?” asked Jesse.
“I wanna talk with that woman you're holding for the murder,” Nicks said. “Get me to her.”
“I'm not gonna do that unless you tell me what you want.”
“Why isn't she in the county lockup?” asked Nicks.
“Did you look for her there? How'd you get in?” Jesse asked.
Nicks didn't respond.
“Look, you ain't getting anything out of me unless you tell me what's going on here. So get to talking or get out of my house. I'm tired.”
Nicks took this in, then said, “That bitch you're holding can't know anything, or she'd be dead by now.” He walked to Jesse's little bar. He reached for a bottle, then changed his mind.
“You were there that night, weren't you?” asked Jesse.
“I was there, but not when it happened. If I had been--” Nicks paused a moment, and Jesse heard the faintest trace of regret in his voice. ”The mayor would still be alive.”
“So you don't believe Ramona Blake killed him?” Jesse intended to cross-examine Nicks and get as much out of him as he could.
“She was just a piece of ass,” said Nicks. “The mayor liked his whores young, pretty, and stupid. I checked her out before Yancy took up with her. She was small-time, sold drugs for a while, then got into fucking rich guys. But she never did anything like this.”
Nicks was not telling him anything he didn't already know. Jesse thought about sharing what he knew with Nicks, but this was a man who definitely could not be trusted.
“I'd like to help you,” said Jesse. “But I'll need you to tell me everything you know. What happened that night?”
Nicks chuckled. “Fuckin' lawyers. You think you got power.” He pulled back his coat, showing his guns. Two .44s were nestled under his arms. “All your legal papers and talk don't mean shit. This here is the only thing that counts in Detroit.”
Jesse wasn't impressed. He kept up his line of questioning. “Why have you been avoiding the prosecutor's office?” he asked. “If you're so bad, why have you been running?”
“I've been chasing,” said Nicks. “Big difference. And when I find what I'm looking for, a whole lot of people are gonna he fucked, big time.”
Jesse took a second, then decided to do some intimidating of his own. It was risky, but men like Nicks could not be coddled. Jesse moved closer to Nicks; his face was hard, angry. “Why the fuck didn't your men get the assignment that night?”
Nicks's face darkened. He turned to Jesse, and for a second Jesse thought Nicks would hit him.
“Fuck if I know,” said Nicks. “They should have been there. I left the assignments in the security office at Manoogian like always, but they never got it. Broadhurst and Reed were supposed to be there.”
“Well, they never got the goddamned assignment,” said Jesse. “And they were accounted for at the time of the murder.”
“I know, I talked to them,” said Nicks. “They were scared, said they just didn't get the assignment, and I believe them. My men are incorruptible. I guess maybe I fucked it up somehow.”
“Why do you want to see Ramona Blake?” asked Jesse.
“I'm looking for someth
ing,” said Nicks, “something I got from another damned lawyer and gave to the mayor that night.”
“You're only making matters worse by withholding information,” Jesse said. He wasn't about to tell Nicks that he knew anything about that black briefcase.
Nicks just looked at him with contempt. “Stay outta my way. And don't try to have me picked up, or I'll come back for you.”
“Do you know who killed the mayor?” Jesse asked.
Nicks opened the door and walked into the hallway. “No, but I will,” he said. Nicks walked quickly down the hall and jabbed the button for the elevator. Jesse closed the door. Nicks was on the trail just like him. He was a nut, but Jesse didn't think he had killed the mayor. Jesse took the precious tape out of his briefcase and put it in his nightstand. He was going to sleep with it close by.
He started to undress and caught sight of his answering machine. Seven messages. He thought about listening to them tomorrow, but he was never one to wait on information.
The machine's mechanical voice started: “You have seven new messages. Message one.”
“Jesse ... Damn, I hate machines. This is Marcia at the office. I need to talk to you tomorrow about our preliminary witness list. I'll be in at eight.”
“Message two. “
“Hey, Uncle Jesse. This is Nikko. Just callin' to say whassup. We all cool here at home. Talk to you later. Peace.”
“Message three.”
“Jesse ... this is your fiancée. Where the hell are you? You stood me up! Did you forget?”
“Jesus, I'm getting married,” said Jesse.
“Message four. “
There was silence; then someone hung up the phone.
“Message five. “
“Jesse. Ellis. How's the case going? Look, Penny wants to do the dinner thing. Some partners from the firm will be there, so this is your big chance. Call me, okay? Talk to you later.”
“Message six. “
“Jesse, this is Connie again. Call me as soon as you get in. We need to talk.”
“Message seven. “
“Jesse, Karen. Don't get too excited, but I think I found that item we were looking for. Listen, I think we should go get it tonight. If you're not here in the next hour, I'm going to get it alone.”
“No more messages.“ the machine's mechanical voice said.
Jesse played Karen's message again. She'd found the black briefcase. But she never said those exact words. Knowing Karen, he'd show up at her place, and she'd be there in a negligee or naked. He hated to admit it, but the thought of that wasn't all bad. Still, Karen had been right about the tape.
Jesse took the tape out of the nightstand, got his gun, then left.
He left the building again and went to his car in the garage. On the way he checked his rearview mirror every so often. Karen's story about being followed and meeting Nicks had made him paranoid.
Jesse rolled down Jefferson. It was cold out, and people were dressed in their winter coats. Soon it would be winter, then spring, then marriage to Connie. He confessed that part of the reason he was going to see Karen was to avoid having to talk to Connie tonight. He'd completely forgotten about their appointment. He was going to have to make it up to her somehow. He drove his car onto the Lodge Freeway and headed uptown. In a few minutes he was pulling in front of Karen's house.
Jesse walked up to the house. The lights were on inside. He pushed the doorbell and heard the soft music sound inside. No one came. He tried the doorbell again. Nothing.
“Shit,” he said. She was playing games again.
He knocked on the door and found it open. In the moment he stepped inside, it struck him that he should have taken out his gun first.
Jesse was grabbed by a shadow and yanked inside the house. He fell to the ground, and the shadow smashed him hard in the face. Jesse swung at the dark air and connected with something. A man's voice groaned. Jesse struck out again and again but hit only the air. Then he felt another pair of hands on him. The new hands held him, and the first attacker struck him hard in the side. He fell to his knees. Before he could recover, something hard hit him on the side of the head, and Jesse fell on his face. He was vaguely aware of the men above him as the darkness crowded his murky vision and descended.
Jesse's head pounded as he opened his eyes. “Holy shit,” he said. He rubbed his temples, but it only made the pain worse.
He struggled shakily to his knees. A draft blew across him, and he realized that he was wet. He looked down at himself and saw he was naked and streaked with sticky, dried blood. A wave of panic overtook him. He ran his hands over his body, looking for wounds. All he felt was a big knot on the side of his head. The bleeding had stopped, but it still hurt like hell.
Jesse looked around at the ransacked bedroom and realized that he was no longer in Karen's living room. Where was he? Whose blood--?
Jesse looked at the bed in the middle of the room and saw his answer. Lying in the bed, naked and bloody, was Karen Bell.
“Oh, my God ... oh, no ... no ...” He was almost yelling. His head throbbed, and he fought the intense pain. He went to Karen's body. She'd been beaten and stabbed. Her beautiful face was streaked with blood, her mouth clenched in pain, and her eyes were still wide open.
Terror coursed through Jesse. He had seen death before but never like this. This was worse than anything he'd ever seen. She'd been slaughtered.
He ran into the bathroom and put a cold rag on the back of his head. Then he jumped into the shower and scrubbed himself so hard that it hurt. Jesse quickly analyzed his legal case:
One: He was being framed for murdering Karen.
Two: He was in the victim's house.
Three: There was physical evidence, blood, DNA, fibers, and probably fingerprints in the house.
Four: He and Karen had been seen together by cops earlier that night at the murder scene. And there was a message on his machine at home from the victim.
Five: They had also had a prior sexual relationship, and it had ended badly.
Six: He was fucked.
He quickly got out of the shower and looked for something to wear. He was terrified as he scrambled around the room. Being arrested and put through the system was his personal nightmare. He'd been through it before as a kid. But now he had so much more to lose. He felt he was an interloper, granted a brief passage in the middle class, and could be sent back to hell at any time. And this was it: He was set up for murder. His life was over. Karen must have been forced to call him before she was killed. Or had she really known where the black briefcase was?
But why did they do this? he wondered. Why not kill him too? It was because they need someone to take the rap, he surmised. They were smart. Just like when they killed Yancy, they needed his wife to take the blame. Otherwise there might be embarrassing questions.
Jesse found his clothes. They were partially covered by blood but didn't look too bad. He searched for the tape, but it was gone. He cursed.
Jesse gathered his wits, then left the nightmarish room, trying not to track blood on his shoes.
If the men were as smart as he thought, they had already called the cops as part of the setup. It was about ten when he was knocked out. Karen's clock showed ten-twenty. He had to move.
Jesse walked down the stairs into the living room. He stopped. If he left now, no one would ever believe him. Then again, no one believed a black man in this situation. When he prosecuted cases, he sure didn't. He could not bring himself to stay and face the system.
Jesse stared out the front door, then thought better of it. He sneaked out the back door. He tried to look casual as he walked around to the front of the house, got in his car, and drove away.
29
Heart Of The City
Ramona was feeling better. The hospital was a hole, but it was better than jail. She'd actually had a decent meal tonight. She watched television from her bed. It was late, but she couldn't sleep. She was worried about Karen. She
hadn't called about the tape yet, and Karen was a very reliable person.
The guards kept her up too. They were always bothering her, flirting, trying for a quickie between shifts. Ramona actually didn't mind that so much. The guards were sleazy creeps, but it was nice to know she still had it.
The wall thumped again. Those damned elevators were too noisy. This old place never stopped making noise. She turned off the TV and lay down.
She'd been in deep shit before, but this was the worst yet. They had her for killing the city's father, and there was no way they'd ever let her go. Jail. Ramona had never been to a real prison. She'd been in lockups, detention, holding cells, and, of course, county, but a penitentiary: That scared her. She knew quite a few people, mostly men, who'd been to the penitentiary. Prison was hell no matter who told her the story. Violent inmates, sadistic guards, perverted sex, and hopelessness.
LoLo and her friends couldn't help either. She'd seen the war starting between LoLo and Cane on the news. The shooting at Belle Isle was just the beginning. But even if LoLo wasn't occupied, what could she do? Nothing.
Ramona sighed. Maybe she'd call Karen and tell her to cut a deal. Maybe if she got a lesser charge and did a few years...
“No, no, fuck, no!” Ramona said out loud.
She couldn't do time. She was young, beautiful. She didn't belong in jail. She wasn't a common criminal. She was meant to be on the arm of a rich, powerful man, spending his money and having a good life. She had to think of something. There had to be some way out of this mess.
There was a knock at the door. Ramona put on her robe and went to it. She looked at the clock. It was almost twelve. These damned guards needed to be cursed out. She didn't mind their trying to get some, but they could at least do it at a decent hour.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Someone to see you,” said a guard.
“I don't wanna see nobody.”
Double Dead Page 17
