Grind City

by Gary Hardwick

  “Fuck dat,” said Vollo. “Men are talking here. This ho need to be silent.”

  More laughter from the men and I could see Jimmy was enjoying it too.

  “I apologize for him,” said Jimmy. “We don’t insult women as fine as you.”

  “How about I go a round with Vollo here,” I said suddenly. “He looks like a fighter. I win, Delores comes with us. I lose and I owe you that favor and we pay her debt.”

  Jimmy and the crew liked this idea as I knew they would. It was not the greatest thing I ever came up with but I was very pent up about things and I needed an outlet for my aggression and I did not like this Vollo.

  If I won, then fine but even if I lost, I’d still get what we came for, I’d just have to pay for it. Jimmy didn’t realize that my offer was a scam. He just liked the action.

  “We do three rounds here,” said Jimmy.

  “I’ll only need one,” I said. “If he makes it out, you win.”

  Now there was cheering and more laughter as the betting started. Vollo was looking at me with anger as he had just been insulted. Jimmy looked at Vollo, who nodded eagerly as if to say he was sure he could beat me.

  Vinny nodded to me. She was down with it and I couldn’t tell if it was because we needed Delores or because she had been insulted.

  “One five minute round,” said Jimmy. “Vollo, you get the usual pay if you win.”

  “If?” said Vollo snickering. “Negro, please. This White Hope won’t last a minute.”

  I got into the circle and took off my coat. It was cold but we’d be working up heat soon. Vinny took my weapons. I saw her flip the safety off the Glock. Smart girl.

  There are two kinds of fighters. The first kind was a guy who thought he was tough when he was just mean, angry and big. He liked hurting other people and the power he got just being unafraid of confrontation.

  The second kind of fighter has made peace with his inner animal and is ready to die or kill every time he squares up. He fights because he has to and he wants to win because he has conviction.

  I was the second kind of fighter and if Vollo was too, then I was about to take an ass-whupping. And so I kept telling myself that no matter what, I’d get my anger out and I’d get Delores. But don’t get it twisted, I wanted to whip his loud-mouthed disrespectful ass.

  The match started and I waited as the crowd got into it. Street fighters are given to spectacle and so I knew he’d want to put on a show. I was taller and heavier but he was younger and probably faster. He thought this was an advantage. Maybe in a foot race, but not necessarily in a fight.

  Vollo threw some measuring punches and I caught them easily. They had power and they hurt even when deflected. He grinned and danced trying to look bad.

  I was thinking about Koney the bully and how fights are usually quick.

  Suddenly, I shot out a hand a hit him in the face but it was not a fist. It was a slap.

  Smack!

  The crowd gasped because women are slapped like that. Vollo got angry and waded in catching me with a hook to my side and another blow that grazed my temple. I saw this second shot coming but I let it hit because he had twisted his body over his stance in his anger at my insult and before he could get back…

  Smack!

  A backhand to the other side of his face. The crowd reacted again, only this time there was laughter in the mix.

  Well, Vollo was definitely the first kind of fighter because now he was hot. I wanted him to be. The brothers are easily put off their game by humiliation. They get so much of it indirectly each day, that it was a tipping point when it was direct.

  “Easy Vollo!” yelled Jimmy from behind me.

  Vollo bolted at me and lunged just like Koney did. It was so fast, that he almost caught me off guard.

  He met my right hand on the bridge of his nose. Vollo fell backwards on his ass. When he got up, I was on him and this time I slammed a fist into the side of his head. He wobbled and fell to one knee. He tried to get up but kept falling.

  I went to him and grabbed him by the dreads and slapped the shit out of him again, then I hooked him hard to the jaw and he went down for good.

  The crowd groaned and gasped and cursed. Money changed hands and I could see Jimmy was not happy.

  I went over to Vinny and put on my guns and coat and walked calmly over to the Samoan. My hands were red and already bruising. I felt good.

  “Who the fuck are you?” asked Jimmy.

  “Just a concerned citizen tonight,” I said. “Where’s Delores?”

  I could see Jimmy thinking about going back on our deal. But if he did that, his word would mean nothing to his people and he’d lose face.

  “Green van second row. Tell that bitch to stay way from my shit,” he said. “I mean it.”

  “I can see you’re a standup guy,” I said. “So, I’ll give you that favor as long as it don’t involve a homicide. Ask for me and I’ll do what I can.” I handed him a card.

  Jimmy and me looked at each other and he could see I was not lying. Every man in the city has a code and it’s either good or bad.

  “Bet,” said Jimmy glad to have gotten something out of all this, which made his men look at him with respect because of my respect to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Cavanaugh.”

  Vinny and I walked towards the vans while Jimmy’s men pulled Vollo off the ground.

  “You need to put some cold on those hands,” said Vinny. She grabbed my arm and I knew I’d be getting me some later. Women were always turned on by shit like this.

  Delores Ranier was a thin, brown-skinned woman with a short haircut over what used to be a cute face. Drug use and a hard life had stolen her beauty as it always does.

  Her little feathered cut looked fresh. Black women and their hair fascinated me. Here she was, a drug addict sold into urban slavery, turning tricks and yet she had found some woman in this squatters’ house to do her hair.

  Delores stood smoking cigarettes with two other women by a green van which was rocking as one of her other sisters was in there working.

  “Delores?” I asked.

  “Who wants to know?” she said.

  “I’m Detective Cavanaugh and this is Officer Shaw. We’re here about your son, Raymond.”

  Before we told her anything, I saw recognition in her eyes. All mothers in cities like Detroit dreaded a visit from the police and those words.

  Delores began to shake and just started to cry. She fell and I caught her before she hit the ground. We each took an arm and easily carried her away as she sobbed.

  We went back to the front of the place and we let Delores stand on her own.

  “Can you walk?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong with her?” asked the kid at the front.

  We didn't answer. We just moved up the street, back towards our car around the corner.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” asked Delores.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Vinny. “We’re sorry.”

  “I knew it,” said Delores. “It’s my fault. I was never no good to the boy.” She sobbed again.

  “Delores, we need you to hold it together,” said Vinny. “I know this is bad, but I’ve lost my sister too, the same way. We both have to be—“

  Vinny was a little surprised to see I had both guns out and I had moved in front of her.

  We’d left our car under a street light. But as we got to the corner, I could see no light coming from where we had left our ride.

  This is one of those things people who live in the city noticed. Someone had knocked out the light. If they saw the police sign on it, why would they do that unless…

  Vinny whipped out her gun and pushed Delores back as we got to the corner. I tossed Vinny my keys and nodded to her. She knew what I was going to do.

  “What’s going—“ said Delores.

  “Shhh,” said Vinny. “Quiet.”

  I checked the street around us. Nothing. If they were laying for us, it was on the street beyond. They
hoped we’d just turn the corner and then they’d shoot us.

  Vinny hit the panic button on my key-fob and the car’s police lights and horn went off. I turned the corner.

  “Police!” I yelled.

  I saw a figure in the flash of the lights. It looked to be a man. He raised a hand and I moved as he fired.

  I swung into the street and fired the Glock. I saw a spark rise from the street light pole where I’d hit it. I fired the .45 a second later and I heard the slug slam into the concrete of an abandoned house just beyond the car.

  I vaguely saw the shooter turn the corner. I started after him, but I wasn’t sure he was alone and I had a witness to protect.

  “Get to the car!” I said.

  Vinny hustled Delores into the car as I covered them. I jumped into the back and we drove away.

  I wanted to go after him but that was a fool’s errand. I kept forgetting our killer was probably a cop. His car was close by and he was long gone.

  “Oh Jesus,” said Delores. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We all are.”

  **********

  We took Delores to my father’s house as it was closer. We needed to question her before we turned her over to DeAngela in IAD.

  My father, Robert Cavanaugh, is a tough old man who still has a touch of Irish brogue in his voice. He’s slowed down in his old age, but once, he was the baddest dude I knew. Now, he was mellow, didn’t drink, doted on his grandson and liked to watch police videos on what he called “The Youtube.”

  And he had a girlfriend, a woman named Sophia Samson who he’d met at mass. Just like the brothers, the Irish pick up women at church.

  I told dad about the case. I could trust him and he loved to help out. He still had a keen mind and Vinny and I both valued his counsel.

  We all sat at the kitchen table and talked while Sophia made coffee.

  “He was so much better than me and his daddy,” said Delores. Her eyes were so red, they looked bloody. “So smart and never got into any trouble. I don’t know who would ever want to hurt him.”

  “We need to know how your son contacted you,” I said. “We think he might have left you a message.”

  “I walked out of the halfway house to get high,” said Delores, not really hearing the question. “He was mad. My baby was mad at me when he died.” She started to cry again.

  “Now’s the time to get clean,” my father said abruptly. “I know you feel bad and all, but your boy ain’t coming back. I drank for thirty years before I got sober and when I did, it saved my life. You wanna catch whoever killed your boy, listen to them. They know their stuff. And after you bury your son, me and Sophia can go to see Father Carrin at the church and get you into rehab.”

  Dad was on a very self-righteous kick since getting clean and I was not going to stop him in this case.

  Delores stopped crying. Vinny handed her some tissue. We needed to get to this soon or the woman might just run off and overdose or something else stupid.

  “Did Raymond keep a phone or email account in your name?” asked Vinny.

  “I hid it,” said Delores suddenly. “Raymond gave me a phone, a nice one. He left me messages on it sometimes and I didn’t want to sell it. I know myself.”

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “In my old room at the halfway house,” said Delores.

  Vinny and I looked at each other at the same time. We were not the only ones who knew that. Whoever had found Delores when we did and taken a shot at us also knew.

  Sophia brought the coffee. She was a plump little lady with a head of gray hair.

  Delores loaded her coffee with sugar and I saw my father shake his head with pity.

  “Where?” I asked. “We searched that room.”

  “It’s in the ceiling in the closet,” said Delores. I kept it off so no one would hear it.

  “This is very important,” I said. “The police are going to talk to you about your son’s killers. I don’t want you to tell them anything about that phone.”

  “Okay,” said Delores. “But why?”

  “Cops can’t be trusted now,” my father said. “Danny, you and Vinny go get that phone. We’ll take her downtown.”

  “IAD, dad,” said Vinny.

  “Shit, I hate them,” said my father casually.

  “Cursing,” said Sophia.

  “Sorry babe,” said dad.

  Vinny and I left and went back to Second Chances. The new occupant of Delores’ old room was not happy about being awakened so late.

  We found the phone right where she said it was. It was in a plastic bag along with some pictures of RaRa as a kid.

  This made me a little sad but I didn’t say anything about it. I was upset because RaRa was a good kid and now he was gone. All of this was getting kind of personal to me. I wanted to go back to Jimmy’s and have another fight.

  We took the phone back to our house but we didn’t tell anyone in the family what we had found.

  Vinny and I connected the phone on her laptop and the phone came up like a drive. It was not locked or coded and so we could see everything on it. There were numerous voice messages, and there, the night of the murder was a message with a video file on it.

  I pressed the icon and the video played:

  "What the fuck?” said Ivory.

  Ivory’s face popped up and the words “livechatapp” appeared in the corner in red. Vinny was visibly struck and covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

  "Keep me on the line," said RaRa. "Them muthafuckas be trippin' these days."

  "No worries," said Ivory. “I got it."

  "Oh, it's your sister's man."

  “Naw it ain’t him. It’s… Look, I'll see you at what time?"

  "Nine, Greektown," said RaRa.

  “Cool.”

  Ivory got out of the car and turned into the glare of the lights behind her and the video went off but not before catching a shot of the police cruiser and the serial number plate in its windshield.

  12

  ICE BREAKER

  Thom Ross felt silly wearing the suit which looked like a uniform. He would never understand why some people were so in love with boating. It was a sign of class and status but these people took the shit way too seriously.

  The Annual Winter Cruise was coming to a blessed end. It was on a Luxury Yacht named the Demetier which was owned by another of the state’s old money families.

  They had hired an ice breaker to make sure the river could be navigated and didn’t lock them in. The ice was thin and they probably didn’t need it, but it was still impressive to see the other ship clear a path.

  Thom used to love these events, mingling with the upper class, making them laugh with tales of being middle class. But these days, he was in the dog house with Sandra, which meant he was in the same place with her friends. Motherfuckers all stuck together, he thought.

  He would remedy that very soon. Sandra could not avoid him forever and when the time was right, he was going to make everything like it was, then he’d make it better.

  He watched Sandra, draped in her fur, laughing and drinking with some other women. She certainly wasn’t mourning anymore, he thought sarcastically. She was a good actress and was really doing a good job of hiding her pain. She had lost someone and it had to be killing her. All things in good time, he thought.

  Thom checked his watch again. He would have plenty of time to run his errand when they docked. There was always an after affair with press but he was skipping it.

  Evan had been the boating enthusiast. Sandra had overcome her fear of sailing after falling overboard and almost drowning when she was twelve. Evan had dove into the water and saved her. The family rumor was her father, Quinn had just watched her and did not move.

  It had made the newspapers thanks to Sandra’s mother who was the original attention whore.

  The Demetier rolled into the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club and docked. The Captain gave his yearly boring speech and the well-heeled audience
ate it up. Thom took this time to sneak away. He found his car, a white Range Rover and drove back home alone. Sandra could catch a ride with friends.

  After he got home, he quickly got out of the monkey suit and into some casual clothes. Normally, he’d take the Range Rover but it was too flashy for where he was headed. Luckily, they’d gotten a Ford truck that would do nicely.

  He left the house and saw the guard wave. He knew that guard was cataloguing everyone that came and went but he didn’t care. Sandra would never guess what he was up to tonight.

  He drove to his office at 1 Woodward in downtown Detroit and was let in by the night guard. Thom went to his little suite, an office that was all his and that only he had access to. He entered and then went to the safe he’d put into his desk.

  Earlier in the day, he’d gone to his bank and gotten some funds in cash. He removed these funds from his office safe along with the .9mm pistol which he had a license to carry.

  He placed the money in an envelope, the gun in a hip holster and then set out.

  Thom became nervous as downtown faded away and the dismal grayness of Detroit’s east side came into view in the Ford.

  He was not born rich, but he had never lived like these people. Houses dotted the landscape and the streets seemed lifeless, like no one lived there. Even though he knew it would all change in a few years, it was still unsettling.

  This is why he had gone into business with Renardo. Thom hated these neighborhoods and he didn’t much care for the people. They could tell how uncomfortable he was around them and he could barely hide his revulsion at how they lived.

  He turned off Davison onto a little street with no sign. He parked near the corner and waited. He sat there a while, checking the time.

  Suddenly, two men walked from a house and started up the street his way. These were not his contacts, so he was immediately nervous. He took out the gun and placed it on the seat next to him.

  “No problem,” he said to himself. “Just keep walking, fellas.”

  The two men stopped a couple of houses away and looked at his truck which was still running, smoke rising from the exhaust. It was a new vehicle and so if they were thinking anything bad, it had to be carjacking. If he let them, then that was that, he’d be beaten or shot and that was no good. If he shot them then he’d have to run. His mission for tonight would not be completed and that was worse.