And I’ll be damned if Jesse was not right about me because my first thought was not to tell them what I had just seen. I’d follow Cole and Harson and then force them into talking. Or maybe me and Vinny and one of her brothers would pay them a visit. It felt real good but it would not be playing with the team.
“Let everyone go except Jamilla Cole,” I said.
“Why?” asked DeAngela.
”I think she and her partner are dirty,” I said, “but I think she’s covering for him and she’s pissed about it.”
“Shit,” said Jesse checking out the camera feed. “They’re not even looking at each other. Good catch, detective.”
“Then we question her?” asked DeAngela.
“No,” said Jesse. “We don’t say anything, I mean nothing. Then we release her. Her partner won’t believe we just sat there and said nothing and distrust will settle in.”
“If he did it, he might move on Jamilla or whoever he’s working with,” I said.
“Goddamn cops are scary people,” said DeAngela. “Okay, let’s do it.”
They left and soon, I saw them enter the room with the cops. DeAngela let them all go but asked Jamilla to stay behind. Jamilla, her lawyer and Dobbs Harson and his lawyer all protested but in the end, Jamilla was left in the room alone with her attorney, the IAD officer and the county’s top prosecutor.
Jesse and DeAngela said nothing for five minutes. Jamilla’s lawyer kept asking them questions but they said nothing. When they released her, Dobbs Harson was waiting in the hallway. I could hear them arguing as they left.
Jesse was clever. Even if Jamilla’s lawyer said that Jesse and DeAngela just sat there, no one would believe him. It was his job to win and lying about it would be protecting his client. Jesse had just used their own attorney/client privilege against them.
Now, the IAD would sit on Jamilla and Dobbs and wait for something to happen. Not a bad strategy but it might not bear any fruit.
My cell phone rang. It was Erik and so I didn’t dare ignore it.
“Sup boss?” I said.
“Got a new case, a homicide and I want you on it,” said Erik. “I’m sending details to your cell.”
“Cool but—“
“Just go, Danny. We’ll talk later.”
**********
I left the IAD offices making sure not to be spotted by anyone. I ended up walking out of the service area into a stinking alley. This is what it’s like when you work against your brothers, I thought.
I walked back to my car and pulled off, headed to I-75. The case I was put on had actually taken place in another city.
Wyandotte is south of Detroit, bordering the river, what we call downriver. Don’t know much about it, only that it’s the second oldest city in the state, something they brag about as if anyone gives a shit.
Someone had dumped a body near the old Oak Street Union Station landmark. The Wyandotte Police don’t get many murders in a city of only twenty-five thousand.
I pulled up to the crime scene which had already been roped off. I got out of my car and walked past the onlookers, who braved the cold just to have something to tweet and text about.
The body had been left in some thick weeds and was discovered by a city maintenance crew.
I was summoned by a uniformed officer and I noticed that there was no detective on scene. Shit, did they even have one in Wyandotte?
“Officer Steve Baker, detective,” said a fresh-faced kid who looked right out of the academy.
“Cavanaugh,” I said.
“I know, sir,” said Baker. “I read about you last year. Some doings, huh? That’s my partner, Nelson. He’s been keeping the people at bay. Damned cell phone cameras.”
We walked over to the body which was being readied for transport.
“My boss talked to yours and we’re taking this,” I said.
“That’s what they’re telling me,” said Baker. “Don’t know why.”
The deceased was a black male and had been worked over pretty good. He’d been beaten with something and three of his fingers were mangled, probably broken. His face was bruised and swollen and he had been bound hand and foot.
“Do we know who he is?”
“Yes sir,” said Baker. “Raymond Ranier.”
“RaRa,” I said to myself. “Yes, this is one of ours.”
“The chief wants to go co on it,” said Baker. “I’m the primary here.”
I drew in a deep breath and let it out as I stooped to get a better look. So, this is where Ivory’s missing friend had gone.
“I’m betting you didn’t find his cell phone,” I said.
“Nope,” said Baker. “Kid’s got I.D., wallet even had money in it. So, I’m guessing this was not a robbery.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said.
I wanted to tell him who this corpse was and why DPD was interested but there was no need to give the media more ways to sensationalize this.
“This kid’s a missing person,” I said. “Probably killed by some bad folks in the D and dumped here hoping you guys wouldn’t call us.”
“Shit,” said Baker. “Premeditated?”
“I’ll get our people out here for the body and I’ll take the wallet and ID,” I said.
I called DeAngela and told her the news.
“I knew it,” she said. “I was in denial but I knew that kid was dead.”
“How long before the press knows?” I asked.
“I can get them to hold off for a few days but not much longer.”
“I’ll send Fiona and her team to his apartment to see what they find. Then, I’ll follow up.”
I called Fiona and told her team to go to RaRa’s apartment and give it the treatment before I got there. I told her to make sure there was no one there when I came in later.
I waited for the morgue guys, then drove back to Detroit behind them. On the way, I started to call Vinny to tell her the bad news. Then for some reason, I didn’t want to talk on my cell. All cops are paranoid and when it kicks in, we don’t ignore it.
I veered off the freeway and drove back home and picked Vinny up.
RMC was in good hands as the family was still swarming our place since Ivory’s death. Marcus Sr. was planning a funeral and I was dreading it. I hate funerals and none are worse than black or Irish ones.
We got into my car. Vinny had her gun and badge. She was a reserve cop and so could still carry by law.
It was kinda nice being her partner again. But I was worried. Since the baby, I had lost some of my edge. It was okay when it was just me but what if something happened to us both?
“I’ve been waiting for news all day,” said Vinny. “I wanted to call but I know it’s not cool.”
“We got eight suspects and we found that missing friend of Ivory’s, dead, tortured, I think.”
“RaRa’s dead? Jesus. I liked him.”
“I’m gonna lose RaRa’s case to IAD, but we have a minute to get as much as we can. They didn’t find his phone and I think he gave it up to them during the torture. They only broke three fingers on one hand.”
“Damn,” said Vinny. “Some serious players here. Ivory’s phone was gone too, but we know from her records she and RaRa talked before she was killed.”
“So what was the killer looking for?” I asked almost to myself. “More than likely, evidence of who they are.”
“A voicemail or something?” asked Vinny.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “RaRa was an IT kid so he might have made a copy.”
Later, we got Fiona’s text saying the place was done. We took a trip downtown and visited RaRa’s place.
It was a very nice loft over what used to be a bank. RaRa was a coder for Compuware, apparently, it paid well.
We broke the yellow crime scene tape as we entered. His place had been trashed of course, because the killers had already been there. I figured that but I wasn’t looking for the same thing as they were.
If RaRa had evidence, he wo
uld not leave it in his home, at least, I hoped he wasn’t that dumb.
Vinny was wearing some jeans and a black t-shirt under her coat and her hair was tied back. I was trying not to notice how good she looked and how seeing her in action with that gun on her hip was making me feel some kinda way.
Suddenly, I felt her hand on my arm as I was checking a pile of debris.
“I’m loving being back in action,” said Vinny smiling a little. “Just like old times.”
“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish up in here,” I said smiling back.
That got me a hard slap on the ass as she walked away.
After an hour, we gave up. Vinny and I had guessed that if a guy like RaRa had evidence, he would've felt safer hiding it somewhere in the digital space.
“His computer is trashed,” I said. “Maybe the killer thought the same thing.”
“Of course he did,” said Vinny. “He’s a cop. Let’s check out Compuware.”
RaRa’s workplace was not far from where he lived. We were let inside by his supervisor, a man named Madrillian.
They had not only gotten his phone, they got RaRa to give up his password and had remotely erased all of his files at work, including valuable projects RaRa had been working on.
We did not find any additional email addresses or accounts and all of his social media had been shut down. Someone had erased RaRa from the face of the digital planet.
RaRa’s supervisor was shocked and could barely speak as we peppered him with questions.
As we were leaving, I stopped suddenly and sighed.
“What?” asked Vinny.
“I’m losing it,” I said. “Family. There’s nothing at his place, work or in his wallet about family, no pictures or anything.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have any,” said Vinny. “Then again, even a ward of the state has foster family.”
We went back and asked for RaRa’s employee file. Ivory was surprisingly listed as his emergency contact along with several other friends. And there was a reference to his mother, Delores Ranier but she had no address.
“Prison?” asked Vinny.
“Or drug addict,” I said.
We checked the prison system and found Delores but she had been let out a year ago. Then we checked the halfway house she’d been released to. She had registered and then been moved by her son to a place called Second Chances not far from RaRa’s loft.
Suddenly, I felt sorry for RaRa. He’d come from a bad situation was blessed with brains but that had not saved him. And I hated to say it but he loved Ivory, who was in her own way, just as no good as his mother.
We went to Second Chances but Delores had been gone for over a month. She’d fallen off the wagon and broken parole. We checked her old room but found nothing.
We walked out of Second Chances as the sun was setting. We were both tired but we had no choice but to keep going. Once news got out that the killer had taken out another innocent black kid, Detroit was going to be knee-deep in trouble.
“You know this area?” Vinny asked.
“Some,” I said. “But the dope houses change a lot. We could be out here all night.”
“Then, we’d better get going if we want to find her,” said Vinny.
Without even thinking, we both checked our weapons. I pulled the .45 and the Glock and realized that I had not fired either in a long time and if I did, it would be the first time since my son was born.
As we got ready to go into the night, Vinny looked over to me and I saw that same awareness in her eyes.
She kissed me and though it was strange, I was very happy to return it. And although I knew she meant it as a bond of solidarity, I could not help but think that it was a kiss goodbye.
PART TWO:
DEATH CITY
“I don't know. It think it’s
one of them gray areas.”
- Kelvin
10
PAYMENT
He listened as the shower went on in the little motel room he’d rented for the evening’s activities. He could no longer risk doing things like this in his church and even though he had a second home, he couldn't do it there either. His wife probably had the place staked out.
Why that woman cared so much about his business was a mystery. Women. As soon as they got old, all they cared about was where your dick was going. He had not dumped her ass. Why couldn’t she be happy with that?
The Reverend Samuel D. Paymer was not the kind of man to live without the things he needed and this little tryst was one of them.
God was mysterious and he was also cruel. All the things people liked were forbidden. Thank goodness for redemption, he thought. And he was going to have to do some serious praying for what he was about to do tonight.
It had been a month since he’d seen Impala and he was going to make up for all the lost time. He’d taken a pill an hour ago and so he was as stiff as a board and ready.
Paymer thought about the first time he saw her, running for the bus in her little short skirt, hair flying behind her. She looked like a school girl.
Impala missed her bus and it took him fifteen minutes to persuade her to ride with him. Three hours later, he had that little skirt hiked up and her bent over his desk in the back of his church office.
He’d had girlfriends before, mostly from the church but they were always dangerous with their big ass mouths and self-righteousness. Impala was a pro and so he paid her to keep her ass off the street and service him.
He knew she cheated, but she was careful about it and so he didn’t quibble. Beggars could definitely not be choosers in his delicate situation.
Paymer was sixty and not in very good shape. He was overweight and had the Black Trinity: hypertension, diabetes and high cholesterol. He took all kinds of pills and so now needed help in the erection department, which he didn’t mind at all. God provided by science and so it was just a matter of which pill you favored.
He’d been a basketball player back in the day, but was never tall enough or good enough to make it big. He’d served in the Army but nothing came of it, except he became a Chaplin, which led him to a deaconship at his local church after the Gulf War.
After a few years of service, he’d gotten a little storefront church and it wasn’t long before he was pastoring at a bigger place.
Mount Holy Grace was a pretty tired name for a church but all the good names were taken. He didn’t want a name with blood in it or some kind of biblical term. Try getting old black people to write ecumenical or ecclesiastical on a check.
Running a church was a lot like running a drug crew, he thought. He was selling a needed product, creating a dependency and then servicing it for a price. It was very cynical to think this way, but it was hard out there for a pastor these days. Between the Mega churches and Oprah Sunday, everyone was cutting into his profits more and more.
The only thing he didn’t like about religion were all the arcane restrictions. All the pastors he knew had sidechicks, drank or smoked dope. It was a shame that they had to hide their humanity but that was part of the deal. People wanted to believe that they could be better, like their leaders.
The other reason he was sneaking around motels was that fuckin' gangster, Renardo. Paymer had peeped Renardo’s real estate game and would be damned if that lowlife thug would steal from his people. He had put the word out not to deal with Renardo and to turn their dollars back to the church instead.
Paymer has instructed Sister Temple to rescind their deal and that bastard had threatened to kill her, or at least that’s what Sister Temple had said.
Changes were coming to the city and he would be damned if the criminals would take a foothold in his city again.
“What you doin’ in there woman?” yelled Paymer as he felt the rigidness of his erection become slightly uncomfortable. He needed to get this thing off quick so they could rest and get another one in before he had to go back home.
He dreaded that. His wife was not feeling him lately and every ti
me he came home late, he got shit from her. He planned to just go to the guest room and not even bother with her later.
The shower turned off and he heard the shower door creak open slowly.
“‘Bout goddamned time,” he mumbled.
Impala walked out a moment later, still wet and wearing a towel. She was early twenties, brown-skinned and very pretty even without makeup.
“Dry off and get over here, woman,” Paymer ordered. “I ain’t got a lot of time.”
Impala said nothing and in fact, had a look of fright on her face as she stepped aside in a strange motion. From behind her, Renardo walked out and behind him was Kelvin, holding a sawed-off shotgun.
“What in the—?” said Paymer.
“They came in the window,” said Impala, her voice shaking.
“I cut my damned hand taking that grate off the window,” said Kelvin. “I should shoot your ass for that.” Kelvin had a hotel hand towel wrapped around one hand with a bright red stain on it.
“Get in that bed with your man,” said Renardo.
Impala walked over to the bed and gingerly climbed in next to Paymer who had a look of abject anger on his face.
Renardo whipped out a cell phone and took a picture of them.
“I must look awful,” said Impala.
“Shut up!” snapped Paymer.
“Watch ya mouth,” said Renardo. “It’s not her fault.”
“You look good,” said Kelvin.
“What the fuck do you want?” said Paymer.
Renardo was silent for a second. He took a deep breath, calming himself.
“Impala, what do you see in this lying ass thief of a minister?” asked Renardo.
Impala looked to Reverend Paymer with innocence and a little fear.
“Don’t look at him,” said Renardo. “I asked you a question.”
“He’s good to me,” said Impala. “A girl needs some kindness in this city.”
“Especially when she has a dick,” said Renardo flatly.
Impala winced a little as if mildly insulted and then: “Yes, especially when she’s got one.”
“Man,” said Kelvin, “if you didn’t have a johnson, I would swear you was a woman.”
Grind City Page 9
