Not Forgiven: A Thriller and Suspense Novel: Ungoverned Series

by Shawn Raiford

  I rolled Stacey and Lawrence over to pull the comforter out from under them, positioning both of them under the bedspread. They faced each other, both breathing softly.

  I put the empty sandwich baggie back into my purse and took the revolver out of the other baggie. The baggie went into my purse, next to the jewelry and watches.

  I got under the comforter, behind Stacey, and reached under her body, grabbing her left arm.

  Placing the weapon in her left hand, I noted that she was left handed earlier in the night, I positioned the muzzle under Lawrence's chin. Stacey's index finger positioned under mine on the trigger. Both of our fingers fit inside the trigger guard even with the latex gloves.

  I positioned our hands and the muzzle at the right angle, pulling the comforter over me with my free hand. I ducked even further behind Stacey, leaving my gun hand in position.

  I unleashed one last breath, squeezing the trigger.

  BANG!

  Dropping the weapon a couple of inches, I peeked out from under the covers and studied his face. Blood oozed out from a big wound under his chin, leaving the .38 Special there, in Stacey's hand, I got out of the bed and checked Lawrence's head. The back of his head was still intact. The bullet did not exit his skull, bouncing around inside, making Swiss cheese out of his brain.

  I felt no pulse. Lawrence was dead.

  I snatched up my newly acquired Luis Vuitton bag. It held all my goodies, along with my purse. I placed it near the exit of the bedroom. I needed to do one last thing.

  Pulling the plastic tube from my purse, I took the rose out. It was from the flower shop I owned. Its beauty worthy of admiration, I placed the rose on the dresser.

  After grabbing my things, I left the premises. The alarm had been set earlier, at my request when we arrived at Lawrence's house. I opened the front door, tripping the alarm.

  The case against Stacey would be airtight. It would be only Stacey's word about me being here. She only knew me as Daisy. A fake mole was under my left eye, just above my lip. Also, I wore a jet black wig, brown contacts, and had a fake tramp stamp on my lower back to further help my disguise.

  The club we partied at earlier did not have video surveillance inside or outside, but who knows if someone recorded video or took pictures of me. There was nothing I could do about people putting video or pictures of me on social media; besides the cops would not identify me much less find me because of my disguise. Besides the club was so dark anyone would have needed a flood light for any picture or video to come out, and I didn't remember any camera flashes. It was something I always paid attention to.

  When I reached halfway home, I pulled out a new burner, specific for this job, and called Benny.

  "Is it done?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "She's going away on vacation?"

  We agreed not to use any names over the phone.

  "Yes, for life, minimum."

  Benny and Lawrence had a diamond business, plus they had a few cabarets around Houston and in Dallas. Some of the girls were just prostitutes who worked as dancers—a great way to build up a client list.

  Lawrence not only loved banging his employees, he also loved knocking them around. Threatening them with violence if they didn't have sex with him.

  After Benny contacted me, I talked to some of the girls before I took the job. They all backed Benny's story. Many of the girls, Lawrence frightened to death.

  One night, coked out of his mind, Lawrence admitted to Benny that he killed two of the dancers, because he had gotten them pregnant. They didn't want abortions and Lawrence did not want kids or to pay child support. Stacey was Lawrence's girlfriend and was there during the admission to Benny. The only thing Stacey said was, "They were stupid bitches, trying to trap a strong man. They got what they deserved!"

  Benny went to the darknet the very next day in search of a nongovernmental solution.

  "Good. I will send the rest of the payment, Rose."

  Chapter Four

  Stubbing Your Toe Sucks

  "Shit!" Sarah yelped, grabbing her stubbed toe, hopping into the kitchen, grimacing.

  Sitting down on a stool near the island in the kitchen, she checked her stubbed toe. No blood, only throbbing shitty pain. Tentatively, she stood. It amazed her how hard she had stubbed the damn thing.

  As Sarah hobbled over to the fridge, she thought she may not need anything to help wake her. She could stay awake for an entire week from the pain in her toe. But she absolutely loved coffee, so she opened the fridge, and pulled out the bag of coffee. An action figure—Wolverine—stood next to the yogurt. In all likelihood, Ethan hid the toy from Timmy. Brendan, her husband, may have hid Wolverine from both of them. It was his favorite super hero.

  Sarah spooned enough coffee to make an entire pot. Brendan would be awake soon and would want a cup as well.

  Sarah craved a cup of coffee out on the balcony, in the cold. The weatherman informed everyone to expect cold today.

  The toe pain subsided by the time Sarah pushed the ON button on the coffeemaker. She shuffled into the hallway.

  She faced the full-length antique mirror she got six months ago at a flea market. Both of her parents told her that the boys should not be blamed if they broke it. "Boys are rough, it's their nature!" her mom told her. Her dad said, "It's like placing fine china in the path of two little bulls.

  Sarah didn't care. Brendan always checked his appearance in the mirror, and she loved admiring him in a suit.

  The mirror told her that she was still brunette and her eyes came back big and brown, but a bit puffy perhaps. She inspected the sticks she called legs. She needed to go tanning. Her legs almost glowed in the dark.

  Sarah filled her coffee cup up with a Columbian brew after she heard the coffeemaker gurgle, grabbed a sweater, and went out to the balcony.

  Since Timmy started sleeping through the night, she got up an hour early before the rest of her family. Sarah absolutely loved her "me" time, more so in cold weather. This morning it had to be in the low thirties, or high twenties, in contrast yesterday was sixty-seven degrees. Houston weather was like that.

  Sarah grabbed a toy from a deck chair. Timmy's toy. His big brother, Ethan, five years old, her oldest, liked to play with all their toys in the house.

  She brought up her legs, her knees were to her chest. Sarah took another sip of the warm dark elixir. Whatever ailed a person, coffee sure helped. It and wine were her only vices, but she considered wine to be medicine. She had her husband to thank for that concept.

  A few months ago when Timmy tried to grab a wine bottle, Ethan stopped him. He told his little brother not to grab the bottle because it was Mommy's medicine. Brendan had come up with the saying first.

  The plant-littered balcony was her little get-a-way from the stresses of every day mommyhood. Every member of the family liked spending time out on the deck. It overlooked the parking lot of Smuckey's, a small mom-and-pop convenience store run by an old Korean couple.

  She was not acquainted with the couple, because she rarely, if at all, visited the store. She did not drink cokes and did her best not to consume sugary treats.

  The view wasn't bad, filled mostly with luxury cars. The plants allowed not only privacy but also a way for her husband, and her sons, to check out the high maintenance housewives and their spoiled daughters who stopped to buy their overpriced mineral waters.

  Lately Ethan had been joining his father in checking out Smuckey's female clientele. Sarah had nothing against homosexual people; she had two gay friends. Even so, she was delighted to understand that her son liked girls.

  Down to a quarter of a cup, Sarah was ready for a refill. She leaned forward, spotting a dark colored car, swerving down the road.

  "Probably drunk," she said, her hands clasping the not-so warm coffee cup.

  Sarah inspected the car, a dark BMW, as it pulled into the parking lot. The BMW parked in front of the dumpster which the Koreans kept really clean compared to most dumpsters. The ol
d woman had told Sarah once, "Everything needs to be clean if it's on our property!"

  Sarah, not worrying about refilling her coffee at the moment, checked the driver out as he exited the car and tried to open the top of the dumpster.

  That is why they lock the thing, Dumbass.

  She moved closer to the rail which was covered in vines, seeking a better view.

  Sarah couldn't help herself; she liked to people-watch, and the vines let her do it covertly. She came out here to people-watch a few times a week.

  After fiddling with the dumpster door for a moment longer, the man finally gave up. Angling over to the car, he opened the passenger side door, shifting his shoulders, reaching inside.

  The driver pivoted away from the car, with something big in his arms. Sarah, taking another sip of semi warm coffee, did a double-take when she realized what was in his arms.

  She could not believe her eyes. Were those... legs?

  And …

  Shaking her head, she blinked a couple of times. High heels were affixed to the dangling feet. A woman?

  Sarah gasped when an arm came loose and dangled freely. Fright set in as a thought came to Sarah. Could that woman be dead? Surely she wasn't. Is he a killer?

  The man laid her down on the concrete.

  Could she be dead? No, she couldn't be dead.

  Chills iced her spine. She was dead. Sarah knew it.

  Sarah could not believe what she just witnessed. The man put the woman on the ground, on the cement. Fright rapidly morphed into anger, her hands reaching out to the railing, gripping the cold metal tightly. She remembered when she was fourteen years old and her mother was raped. Her mother, an architect, got out of work and went to the grocery store to get a microwavable lasagna. She had to park far from the front of the store. Security footage showed a white van parked next to her mother's car. A man took her. He beat and raped her two blocks away inside the van. The cops never found the rapists. Her mother was never the same after that.

  Sarah had been outraged at the fact he got away, scot free.

  She could not let it happen… again.

  Sarah shouted, "Hey! What are you doing?" With her left hand she slapped her mouth shut, not believing how stupid that was.

  The man turned and looked for her as she ducked behind the vines, hoping he couldn't see her. Then he got in his car and drove off.

  Sarah stood up, staring at the poor woman on the ground, barely able to comprehend what she just witnessed. Then her toe started to throb again.

  Chapter Five

  Kill Her

  Felix handed him a cup of coffee.

  Rogelio always had a smile on his face, regardless of the situation, though there was no smile on his face at the moment. With mussed hair, five o'clock shadow, and dark bags under his eyes, he appeared to have not slept for days.

  Rogelio brought up his eyes. "Thanks Felix."

  He plugged himself into an expensive chair across from his friend.

  "Felix, I fucked up. I really need your help."

  He noted the fear in his friend's eyes, taking a sip. "Anything, just name it."

  After pausing for a long moment, his friend took a long pull from his cup of coffee. "Oh, that is so good."

  Rogelio was stalling. A little unusual for him. Felix had known Rogelio for over ten years, met him at Aldo's and had been his friend ever since.

  "I really messed up!"

  Felix took a sip of his coffee. "What do you mean?"

  "Before I get into this, just know, you help me out of this, and I will give you money. A lot of money."

  He waved off the comment. "Don't worry about that right now, just tell me what happened."

  "I was at Aldo's last night."

  Rogelio opened Aldo's twenty years ago, serving the best Italian food in Houston. A few years ago, Rogelio began having financial problems after he lost his shirt in the stock market. But soon after that, Felix, Tony, and Rogelio started a little illegal side pharmaceutical business.

  "A woman came up to me at the bar and I got her a drink."

  Rogelio and his wife, Francine had three sons. He always had a woman on the side, sometimes two or three. Most were the kind that accepted money for their company. Felix never liked the idea of paying for pussy, yet Rogelio preferred it. Rogelio told him, 'I pay them to leave!'

  Felix was not sure if Francine was aware of the other women. If she was, she never said anything.

  Rogelio continued. "Her name was Candy, or 'Candice' Zelman."

  Felix frowned. Candy? A stripper or a hooker most likely.

  Rogelio had learned his lesson a while back. Her name was Diane Hale. A thirty-one-year-old mother and grocery store manager. She fell in love with Rogelio and wanted him to leave his wife. Rogelio was loyal to Francine.

  He and Rogelio sat at the bar in Aldo's, drinking when Diane showed up. Made a scene, shouting about how she was pregnant and it was Rogelio's baby. He whispered to Felix that was impossible because he had a vasectomy.

  Felix had to pick her up and carry her outside Aldo's. She told him that she would look for a lawyer, blah, blah, blah. Never heard from her again.

  A month later Felix asked about Diane, and he told Felix, "Ah, don't worry about it. I paid her off, and she went back home to Nebraska, to her mom and dad."

  Felix peered longingly into his cup of coffee and hoped this wouldn't be like Diane. They didn't need any more drama. Business was good.

  Rogelio continued. "She wore this very short skirt and ..."

  "And you bought her a drink and y'all began talking ..."

  "She's dead!" Rogelio blurted.

  Felix did not expect that. He expected that his friend screwed her without a condom and worried about catching something or getting her pregnant. Or Rogelio hit her and needed help with the police, not that she was dead.

  He sat up a little straighter, taking a sip. "How did she die?"

  Rogelio scrutinized the contents of his coffee cup as if waiting for the answer to pop out. "I don't know." He took another sip with both hands. "We screwed in my car, she was just another little blonde whore."

  Rogelio loved blonde white women.

  He continued. "Then she wanted to get high and offered me some pills and we both took them. I don't remember what they were. I must've passed out, I don't remember anything until I woke up, and she was dead in the passenger seat."

  Felix leaned forward, holding his cup with both hands. "Where did you and Candy have sex?"

  Rogelio frowned. "In my car."

  "Yes, you told me that, but where was your car, Rogelio?"

  "Oh, in a car garage somewhere. I don't remember which one. I remember that there weren't many cars."

  "No pedestrians?"

  Rogelio shook his head.

  "What about cameras?"

  "Don't think I saw any." Rogelio's eyes bulged as if he remembered something. "We went to the underground car garage at the Galleria!"

  Felix was not aware of any security cameras there. "Please continue."

  Rogelio took another sip and nodded.

  He remembered something to ask. "Did people notice you leave with her? From Aldo's?"

  "No way. I told her to leave first. She used Uber, and I left about thirty minutes later."

  It was fortunate that Rogelio and Candy did not leave Aldo's together.

  Felix was a cop, he knew what would happen. Cops would find the Uber driver eventually and discover the location she was dropped off. They would ask the driver how Candy seemed, happy or sad or angry. Drunk or sober. Every little detail would help them.

  Felix didn't want to get ahead of himself. He needed more information before thinking about the different scenarios.

  "Where did you meet her after that?"

  "At the car garage, under the Galleria."

  "Why there?"

  Rogelio winced. "I think she was staying at the hotel there or nearby, I don't remember."

  "If she was staying there, why not go up to he
r room?"

  "I don't know, maybe she didn't want me in her room, how is where we screwed important?"

  Felix smiled and held up his hands. "You're right, go ahead."

  Rogelio took another sip, sitting pensive. "I don't remember much after that. I must have dozed off or blacked out because when I woke, we were in the street and she was there, dead in the passenger seat."

  Felix's eyes narrowed. So, Rogelio took some pills and blacked out and drove from the car garage and ended up in the street. "Where did you wake up?'

  "Downtown, near downtown, I forget exactly where. I woke up and drove down the street. Then, out of nowhere, a police car was behind me but he turned off."

  "What did you do with the body?"

  "I'm getting there. I was still nervous from the police car behind me, so I drove around for a while and found a small neighborhood convenience store and a dumpster. I pulled in and wanted to put the body inside but the dumpster was locked." Rogelio continued. "I just wanted her out of my car, so I got her out of my car and put her near the dumpster."

  When he noticed that Rogelio was finished speaking, Felix asked, "And that's it? You left her there?"

  Rogelio raised his eyes, and Felix recognized something. Guilt, or remorse, perhaps fear.

  "I did leave her there, but not before..."

  "Before what?"

  "Someone asked me what I was doing. I think it was a woman."

  Felix's heart sank. A witness was bad. He had to help him. "Oh shit."

  There could be various kinds of evidence for a murder. If Rogelio's fingerprints are found on her, it could be said that was from when they were drinking at the bar. If any video of Rogelio and Candy ever popped up, it would have to be crystal clear to convince a jury.

  Lawyers had devious ways to dismiss all kinds of evidence, but a live witness testifying on the stand was the best thing for any district attorney.

  Only two choices existed: Help his friend or kill him. But there was really only one choice for Felix. He couldn't kill Rogelio, because the money was too good, and it would mess up Felix's retirement plans. So, he had to help him, and he could. The first priority was getting rid of the fucking witness. "What did you do after the witness said that?"