by Roy Glenn
She was more than a bit surprised to see what appeared to be business as usual going on inside the office, despite all of the commotion going on right outside. Officers were shuffling back and forth behind a large desk that ran the length of the room. Some were on phones behind desks and others were typing at computers. Olivia looked to her left and noticed a line of people who appeared to be waiting for their turn at the desk.
She didn’t want to wait. At that time, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the detectives number.
“Detective Washburn, how may I help you.”
“This is Olivia Wayne. I’m in the lobby, are you at the station?” she quickly added.
“Oh, of course, Ms. Wayne. I’ll be right out,” he said.
Much later, Olivia pulled up in Detective Washburn’s unmarked car as they arrived at a building which housed loft apartments in downtown Chicago. It was the home of Linda Raphael. Washburn told Olivia that she was the main one that put him on to the fact that it was murder. They rode an elevator up to the eleventh floor and knocked at a door down the hall a few minutes later.
The instant the door opened, Detective Washburn flashed his badge and said, “Is Linda Raphael here?”
The thin woman with a rag wrapped around her head, wearing a wife beater and a pair of short shorts, used child-like eyes, lined with thick fake lashes to closely inspect the officer and Olivia. “Who wants to know?” she looked between Olivia and the officer.
“I’m Detective Bruce Washburn. I need to see Linda,” he began before the woman cut him off.
She leaned against the door and said, “I’m Linda. If you’re here about Bobby, you need to hear my side of the story. I am sick of his shit.”
Olivia held up a hand. “We’re not here about Bobby. We’re here to talk to you about Lamar Winston.”
A smile broke across her face. “Oh, Mar—” she said longingly as if the mention of his name took her back to a better place. “What about him?” she snapped out of the private dream.
“Well, we wanted to see what you could tell us about his relationship with Aisha Kaufman,” Detective Washburn announced.
At the sound of her name, Linda’s face contorted into an unpleasant frown. “What about that bitch?”
“We take it you didn’t like her much,” Washburn followed up quickly.
Olivia thought they should take the conversation inside, but she figured Washburn had a good reason for staying in the hall.
“That bitch got me fired. No, I didn’t like her ass at all. It was like Mar had his head stuck so far up her ass, he couldn’t see straight. Before she came along, he took real good care of his girls. I mean, everybody on the south side wanted to dance at one of his clubs. It was like you slummed at the other dives to work your way up to Mar’s standards. It was all-good. He wasn’t greedy, and he didn’t mind breaking you off when he felt you deserved it. Then she showed up.” Linda’s frown got worse if that was possible. “None of us liked her ass, but still, in the beginning we thought the worst that could happen was Mar would put her in charge of the club, and we’d have all these new rules about twirling on the pole or some dumb shit like that,” she shrugged then continued. “Come to find out, the bitch been working him all along. A group of us suspected that’s what was up, tried even to have—what you call those meetings when you realize someone’s so far gone on drugs it affects his job?”
“An intervention?” Olivia offered.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Linda laughed at herself. Olivia wanted to, but she was there on business. “We needed to get through to him before the fool gave up the entire farm. It was me, his business partner, Derrick, and two of the other girls.”
“How’d it go?” Detective Washburn asked.
“Well, somehow she found out what we were up to and half way into the damn thing, she came bursting into the office like she owned the joint. All hell broke loose.”
“What happened?” Olivia asked eagerly.
“Somehow, she turned the tables on us. By the time she was done with her fuckin’ list of shit we was supposed to be doing, Derrick was close to giving up on their partnership, and I got fired for trying to start some shit.”
“She had that much power over him?” Olivia asked.
Linda shook her head. “The shit was wild. It was like right before our eyes he turned to putty in her hands. We saw him go from a strong businessman into a pussy-whipped wimp!”
“Do you know what happened with them?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, she broke him. She convinced him that Derrick was stealing from him. Him and Derrick had been friends for years. After that, I lost touch with him.”
“How did you hear about Lamar dying?” Olivia asked.
“Big as Chicago is, it’s just like a small town. Word gets around, you know,” Linda said. “Somebody big time like little Mar dying gonna be some talk.”
“What was the talk?”
“That the bitch poisoned him. That’s what everybody was saying.”
“Why? What happened?” Olivia asked.
“I heard ’bout a month before he started getting sick, she just vanished. Let Derrick tell it, and so was more than half the money.”
“Did you tell the police about this?” Washburn asked.
“I tried, but they weren’t interested in what I had to say. They were stuck on Derrick, and when I wouldn’t help build a case against him, well, they moved on to the next person, I suppose. But who the hell else would want to poison him? I mean seriously, the fact that you guys didn’t even question her ass was just—well, it was typical,” she spat out.
“You don’t seem surprised about how he died.”
“Nah, it all made sense. Well, afterwards anyway. I mean, everyone was telling me ’bout how he seemed so fuckin’ weak all the damn time. I thought he was whipped on the pussy, but apparently her ass had been slowly feeding him poison, and nobody suspected a damn thing.”
Their trip to Derrick Brown’s pretty much confirmed everything Linda had shared. At the time, Derrick spent a chunk on legal fees for the murder of his business partner and best friend before charges were dropped due to lack of evidence.
That evening, Olivia eased back in her chair and closed her eyes as the plane took off. She couldn’t wait to get back to call Marcus and report her findings about the deceased.
30
While Olivia was in Chicago, Garrett boarded a flight to Houston. He had yet another murder to inquire about—the murder of Otis Grimes.
Garrett exited Kirby drive off 610 South and made a right turn into the dealership lot. He looked around at the busy workers who were either talking to customers or showing them cars while others went toward the service section of the massive lot. Walking up to the main office door, Garrett tried to think of the easiest way to get what he had come for.
“I’m here to see Robert Dawson. He’s expecting me,” Garrett said to the receptionist who wore a headset like it was growing from her head.
The receptionist held up a manicured finger to quiet him then rattled off the dealership’s greeting with the precision of a pro as she jotted something on a notepad Garrett couldn’t see. Suddenly the receptionist looked up at him.
“I’m Garrett Mason, and I’m here to see Robert Dawson,” he repeated.
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes, he is,” Garrett confirmed.
Before they could finish their exchange, Garrett looked up to see a burly man come shuffling through doors marked employees only. He was speaking loudly when he tapped another man on the back.
“It was good talking to you, Johnson,” the man howled.
His eyes made brief contact with Garrett’s then he walked up to the desk.
“Veronica, is everything okay over here?” he asked.
“Um, yes. Yes, Mr. Dawson. This gentleman, um mister—”
“I’m Garrett Mason. We spoke briefly yesterday,” Garrett said helping her out.
“Oh yes. Hope I didn�
��t keep you waiting too long,” Dawson said. “Why don’t you follow me?”
Once in his office, Robert Dawson squeezed his large body behind his desk and laid his palms on top of it. “So you’re looking into Otis’s death.” He shook his head like the mere mention of the victim’s name was enough to cast sadness over the entire room.
“Yes. I want to know about his relationship with Aisha Kaufman,” Garrett offered.
“Poor ol’ fool. Otis thought he had struck pure, black, Texas liquid gold!”
“So what about his wife? Wasn’t Grimes married?” Garrett asked, trying to gage whether he needed to visit the widow Grimes.
“Please. You know what happens when some women hit their late forties. Sex just ain’t all that interesting. She didn’t care what ol’ Otis was doing as long as he wasn’t trying to do her, and he kept her charge card payments current, of course.”
“Of course,” Garrett agreed.
“Yup, Otis was just glad to have the attention from such a hot young thing, and then when she had a friend who was willing to play, well, let’s just say, it was as if he’d hit the lotto,” the round man chuckled.
“Who was the friend? Do you know?”
“Nope, never met her. Otis made it clear he wasn’t about to share,” Robert added. “I’ll have to admit, in the days after Otis returned from that trip to Belize, bragging about the number they had done on him. I know me and quite a few others were just plum jealous,” he shook his head. “I mean we all think about getting some ass on the side from a black gal, but to do both of them—I told Otis he could make a sweet little business on the side, ’cause I knew at least seven guys who’d pay twice what he did,” Robert winked.
“Do you remember the friend’s name?”
“Like I said, I never met her, and Otis used to refer to her as Cutie. He actually used to laugh when he talked about the two of them together. All I can tell you about her was that she had a tattoo.”
“A tattoo of what?” Garrett asked.
“It was of a naked woman with large wings on her back, tattooed on her left cheek.”
Garrett wondered why they’d never heard that Abril had a partner. He instantly wondered if this would help their client’s case. He knew he couldn’t wait to share the news with Marcus. He quickly turned his attention back to Robert Dawson.
“So Aisha and her partner shared Otis?”
“Shit yeah,” Robert said as he slapped his thigh. “He was definitely with Aisha, but he wanted Cutie, and Aisha kept dangling her in front of him like the golden carrot. He was in a pickle all right, but I tell you what, he didn’t mind a bit,” Robert said.
“Were you shocked when you learned he was shot in the head?”
“Devastated. The authorities questioned me. You know, tried to do the old, jealous business partner, better off with him gone routine. But I’ve got myself the best attorney money could buy. Then they started barking up another tree,” he said proudly.
“What happened to their little threesome?”
“Don’t know. One day he just stopped talking about her. When I asked him about Aisha, he said the two of them just vanished. Funny thing it was a day or two before he was murdered, Otis said he saw the two of them, and they had their hooks in some other guy.”
“How much time passed before he saw her again?” Garrett asked.
“’Bout four years.”
“Did you tell the police about him seeing her?”
“Sure I did, but I know they didn’t believe me. They just thought I was trying to throw them off the trail with some mystery woman and her friend, who’s name I couldn’t tell them. After they gave up on me, I heard they was looking for her, but she was long gone by that time.”
As soon as Garrett left the dealership, he called Marcus. He felt that with all the information they’d gathered on the dead swindler, it would be enough for reasonable doubt.
“So, what did we find out in Houston?” Marcus asked.
“You’ll never ever believe this one. I mean, I think for the very first time since we started this investigation, we may actually be coming up with something’s that helps our client.”
“That’s good news, Garrett. What you got?” Marcus asked; his voice trapped in his throat.
As Marcus listened to what Garret had to say, he couldn’t have been more relieved to discover that there was really an out for Panthea. In that split second, he again thought about the passion they shared. He thought about how no other woman had made him feel the way she had. Since learning Abril had been working with a partner, there was no doubt in Marcus’s mind that there could’ve been a dispute. Abril and her partner could’ve disagreed about their next target, about how to split the money they were taking from men and things could’ve gotten ugly. Yes! Marcus figured, Yes! This was just the hope he needed.
“Get this,” Garrett continued. “Dawson swears Abril or Aisha or whatever her name is and her partner took Otis Grimes for a serious ride. By the time they were done with him, not only was the bank account a bit lighter, but he even thought ol’ Otis may have been in love.”
“What did he tell you about her partner? What’s her name? Did he ever see her? The two of them together maybe?”
Marcus hung on to hope. Another name to feed to police would make things so much better for him and Panthea. He would handle her divorce from Scott personally, and then they could be together all the time.
“Well, that’s the thing. He had never met or even saw her. Dawson only heard stories about what Otis would report back. The only name he had was Cutie.”
“Cutie?” Marcus fell back into his seat. His blood started draining from his face. “What do you mean Cutie?”
“Here’s the thing,” Garrett continued. “He only knows her by the nickname, but he says she has a tattoo of a naked woman with large wings—”
“On her left cheek?” Marcus finished the sentence for him as he sank farther into his leather chair. His head began to spin and his mouth went dry.
“Don’t tell me you know all about Cutie,” Garrett joked.
But all Marcus could do was think of the many times he slammed himself into Panthea and grabbed her hips, smiling at himself as he focused on the tattoo etched into her skin with none other than the name “Cutie” written in neat, cursive script beneath it.
He never heard another word that slipped from Garrett’s mouth.
31
While Paxson made his closing arguments, Marcus sat next to Panthea and wondered how he would handle his closing. It really wasn't a question that needed answering. He was her lawyer first, her lover second. He would make his argument the same way he had planned to. The fact that Panthea was guilty shouldn't and didn't make a bit of difference. He had defended hundreds of people who he knew were guilty, and it didn't matter one bit to Marcus.
The difference this time was that Marcus was in love with Panthea. It changed everything. Everything for them. How could he ever trust her? Panthea never told him, and he never asked whether she’d done it or not. He had allowed his personal feelings for her to get in front of him. But if she could keep that from him, what else has she and would she keep from him?
When it came time for Marcus to make closing arguments, he did it the way he had planned, it wasn’t easy to keep both his personal feelings and his knowledge that she was guilty from getting in his way.
“She didn’t do it,” were the first words he used to begin his closing. The very same words he opened with. Only now, he knew they were a lie. As he continued, it was as if he stood outside of himself, listening and objecting to all of the inconsistencies and flat out lies that he knew he was telling. Every so often Marcus would look at Panthea and wonder was he just doing his job or was he fighting to keep the woman he loved from spending the rest of her life in jail. The answer was both.
That night after the jury got the case; Marcus broke his own rule and took Panthea out for dinner. Over dinner, he asked Panthea to tell him the truth about her
and Aisha Kaufman.
“What do you mean?” Panthea said quickly and looked away. She knew that she had to tell him the truth now, but she was in love with Marcus and feared where the truth would lead them. She took a deep breath then spat it out. “Aisha and I grew up together, best friends since first grade.” Panthea laughed a little. “Marcus please, you have to understand. I was a different person back then. We were young, and we were wide open. Gaming men for money was what we did back then. At first it was nothing big time, but then Aisha met Otis and everything changed. It was like we had made it big time, because everybody Otis knew had money. I’m not talking about nigga rich either. Those white boys were paid and didn’t mind giving it to two pretty young black girls.”
“What happened to Otis, Panthea?” Marcus asked.
“After a while Aisha got tired of Otis, but not his money, so she came up with the plan.”
“What was the plan?”
“The same one she’d worked all these years. She’d con rich men into investing in some fake business. Once Aisha got all the money she thought she could without having to show any real results, she would disappear or come up with some reason why the business failed and their money was lost.”
“Go on.”
“So we rented office space in one of those places that not only rents you an office, but the receptionist answers the phone with your company name and you have access to the conference room, office equipment. The place we rented even had a secretary pool. But they’d bill you for what they did.”
“That probably made for an impressive front,” Marcus commented.
“It really gave us a legitimate edge. We could bring marks to our office and have meetings in the conference room. At one point, we had six front companies representing six different scams we were running.”
“What kind of scams did you run?”
“Mostly real estate, internet startups were big back then, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, anything we could think up.”
