Grind City

by Gary Hardwick

  When the men started his way again, Thom pulled the truck out and drove down the street away from the men. He checked his rearview mirror as they turned to watch him, then moved on.

  Thom parked on a side street and breathed easier. “Damn,” he said. “I don’t need this shit.”

  After five minutes, he rounded the corner and parked again where he had been told. After another half hour, he saw a car at the other end of the street. It approached slowly, then passed by him. This was his contact.

  The same car came around the corner a few minutes later. This time it stopped. The driver’s dark-tinted window rolled down.

  Thom handed the envelope to the driver who took the money and counted it quickly.

  “How much longer?” asked Thom.

  The driver said nothing. The window rolled up and the car took off.

  “What the fuck?” said Thom as the car turned the corner.

  He was not going to pay any more money until he got some specifics from this asshole. He needed to move on with his life and it was going to be hard enough without all this cloak and dagger bullshit.

  Thom cursed again as he pulled away and drove to the boulevard. He saw the two men he had seen earlier. One of them carried a plastic shopping bag.

  As he drove by them, the one not carrying a bag threw something and hit the truck. Thom jumped and swerved as the snowball splattered across his windshield.

  “Fuck me!” he yelled as he regained control of the truck.

  No, he thought as he headed toward the freeway. He did not like these people, not one bit.

  13

  FAST GIRL

  When someone dies, there is a personal reckoning with everyone who knew the deceased. You have to sum up your relationship and filter it down to the bare essence of what it will mean to you.

  Ivory Shaw was never good or particularly nice to me and that was what I was left with, memories of an attitude and a side-eye. It was my fault for not correcting it and so I had to live with it forever.

  The family was demanding the body for a funeral but I knew it would not be released until we had everything science allowed for evidence.

  The snippet of video RaRa sent to his mother had come with a written note that he wanted her to keep it safe for him. He also said that he was not mad at her anymore and that he wanted to get her clean again. This made Delores happy even as she went to identify his body.

  The video did not show the officer but we did get a shot of the car from a simple video enhancement that showed the number of the vehicle in the window. But when we went to check to see who that car had been given to that night, the logs showed that no one had it. Again, we were dealing with a pro.

  The four officers who were on the street that night, Chance Whitehall, Jacob Vilatinni, Jamilla Cole and Dobbs Harson were registered to other cars. The system for registering cars at the 11th was an out-dated one. The cars had computerized trackers in them and we didn’t know if they, or one of the other officers had switched the computer registration card.

  When we checked the tracker number it was verified that the cruiser had not left the impound that night. Again, our killer was a cop and would know how to do that.

  And something else was in my head:

  “Oh, it's your sister's man."

  “Naw it ain’t him. It’s…”

  Ivory knew him. She did not say his name but she was not sweating the police stop because it was her man. The cruiser’s lights had not been turned on, so it wasn’t being done by the book. I was also disturbed by the unstated reference to me, “Your sister’s man.” Obviously, Ivory talked about me with her friends.

  I still liked Cole and Harson for it. Something had fractured their relationship and a murder was the kind of thing that would do it.

  I went back to see DeAngela. She was not happy and I wasn’t either. We were being played like chumps so far and time was not on our side.

  “So, a fuckin’ ghost killed the girl?” said DeAngela as we sat in her office.

  “No, they just swapped the trackers,” I said. “Remember, these are cops.”

  “Any chance he touched the computer when he swapped it?” she asked

  “We can dust for fingerprints but I’m thinking he’d be a fool to have done that,” I said. “What I want to know is, who took a shot at me when all of the suspects are under surveillance.”

  DeAngela looked away when I said this and I knew there was bad news on this front.

  “I’m sorry about that,” said DeAngela. “The city would not sign off on the time I asked for full surveillance and so the teams have been rotating on the suspects.”

  “You could have told me that before I had to start dodging bullets. So, given that and the fact that a cop could probably elude them anyway, it could have been any of them.”

  I made a mental note to get RaRa’s time of death and check it against whatever log the IAD team had. But I already knew that whoever killed him, had taken him the same night of Ivory’s murder. That’s what I would have done.

  “All we have is that baby,” said DeAngela, “because I know the victim’s cell phones have been destroyed. I think we should indict all eight of them, then do DNA on the men.”

  “I’m with that,” I said. “Is the prosecutor?”

  “You heard Jesse. He doesn’t want to blow it on a technicality, but the public and our bosses won’t stand for much more.”

  “The politics of this ain’t never been good for us,” I said. “No matter what we do, we’re gonna catch some kind of hell.”

  “My bosses are pressing me hard. I’m meeting with the Black Lives Matter people this afternoon. They want to help in any way they can.”

  “I’d watch it with them,” I said. “Their cause is good but they have no regard for who they trample on. They are fighting a much bigger war.”

  “Thank you for being so concerned about me,” said DeAngela.

  “Just being a good partner. Don’t get excited.”

  “You’ll be happy to know that I picked up a new fella. So you're off the hook—- for now.”

  “Lucky man,” I said. “Anybody I know?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Your old boss, James Cole, the Deputy Chief.”

  “A good man,” I said.

  Jim Cole was a notorious playboy and had quite a reputation with the ladies.

  “I know all about his rep,” said DeAngela sensing my mood. “Believe me, it’s well-earned.”

  **********

  I left IAD and made my way over to Fiona’s. She had texted me to come by at lunch time to meet her boyfriend. I dreaded this but I wanted to get a preview of whatever she was going to send to DeAngela on RaRa.

  When I arrived, I was greeted by Fiona with a smile, something that I rarely saw. Standing next to her, was a man about forty wearing a very nice suit. He was mixed race, black and Asian, I thought.

  “Danny, this is Ngo McDougall,” said Fiona.

  “Hey,” I said and we shook hands.

  “I know. I’ve got some name,” said Ngo.

  “I like the Irish part of it,” I said.

  “My father’s side,” said Ngo. “Mom’s Vietnamese. It was an Army thing.”

  “Danny’s a full-blooded Mick,” said Fiona.

  “Guilty,” I said. “So, what do you do in this godforsaken town?”

  “I’m a funeral director,” he said. “But my company does virtual funerals.”

  “Do I have to ask?” I said.

  “It’s pretty cool,” said Fiona. “A lot of people don’t like funerals and sometimes people die and their relatives can’t attend because they are so far away. Ngo can do services in real time and transmit them interpreted anywhere.”

  “Did you two meet on some kind of death dating site?” I asked jokingly.

  “Kind of,” said Ngo. “Match.com puts you together based on a lot of shared likes. We are both interested in forensic science.”

  I liked him. He was very calm and focused on Fion
a and I wasn’t getting any sinister vibes from him. He probably had an ex wife and kids at his age, but I’m sure Fiona knew that already.

  “Ngo, can you excuse us?” asked Fiona. “I have some info for smart boy here.”

  “No problem Fi,” said Ngo. “I can wait outside for you.”

  Ngo said goodbye and left. I turned to Fiona.

  “I don’t hate him,” I said.

  “Don’t patronize me,” said Fiona.

  “How long was he married?” I asked.

  “Six years,” said Fiona. “He’s got a daughter, Tiana. She’s five and adorable.”

  “You ready for that, stepmom?” I asked.

  “No,” said Fiona, “but I guess I’ll have to be. Okay, this is good. I guess we can get to the next stage of our relationship now.”

  “Wait, you haven’t had sex with this guy?” I asked with more than a little shock in my voice.

  “I was waiting, to be sure, you know and I had some other issues in that area.”

  “Issues? Like what?”

  “Like it’s none of your damned business,” said Fiona.

  Fiona was almost forty years old but she’d all but told me she was not sexually experienced, or worse, a virgin. How could I have not seen that? She was a nerd and probably some kind of genius and so she was much younger than her peers but I just assumed that she had the normal experiences.

  “Just be careful,” I said.

  “I will,” said Fiona, smiling. “So, there is a heart under all that beef. Okay, let’s get to business.”

  “What do you have for me?” I asked, grateful to be moving on.

  “Well, they can have her body,” said Fiona. “In fact, it can be in transit tomorrow. I have all the DNA on her and the baby and I am ready for matching.”

  “So, the fetus, where does it go?”

  “That’s a good question,” said Fiona. “Technically, the state does not consider it to be a person and so it’s residual matter and we own it.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “That baby belongs to the family. If they have to live with the pain of it being gone, then they have the right to bury it with its mother.”

  “I have to make a request,” said Fiona.

  “Fine but don’t send the body without the fetus. I don’t want the family to have any more casualties, like heart attacks. We get anything from RaRa’s body and his place?”

  “No, whoever your boy is, he is good. They wore gloves and probably plastic on his feet. We have prints but they belong to both of the victims. I take it they were dating.”

  “Yes, they had a thing. But we’re betting it was not his baby.”

  “Raymond was tortured,” said Fiona. “He was beaten with a blunt instrument and his fingers were broken with a pair of household pliers, I’m guessing. He had multiple contusions on the face and in the end, he was suffocated.”

  I was trying my best to stay calm. This killer was brutal and so whatever I was chasing had to be bad. People kill for all kinds of dumbass reasons, but the extremes in this case were worrying me.

  “Do you have a time of death on Raymond?” I asked.

  “It’s hard given the exposure but near as I can figure he was killed about twelve to twenty hours after the girl.”

  “I thought so,” I said. “Okay, I’ll get a copy of whatever you give IAD. Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry about getting upset,” said Fiona. “I’m just nervous about Ngo.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not trippin'. I’m a little on edge, too. Look, I don’t know a lot about relationships. I kinda stumble-fucked my way into a good one, you know.”

  “Everybody knows that,” said Fiona smiling.

  “Anyway,” I said. “I do know this, just be honest and don’t change yourself. If he’s good, he’ll like you for that.”

  “Got it,” said Fiona. “Okay, we’re going to lunch. How do I look?”

  “Pale and beautiful,” I said.

  I did my sneaky exit out the back way. I was getting back to my car, when I got a text message from Vinny:

  Marcus Jr. and Ivanna are on

  TV with the black lives matter

  people! I’m gonna kill them!

  I sighed heavily and then I got to a TV as soon as I could. Luckily, the guys at the Sewer were already watching the event. I waited and then repeated the broadcast on the DVR.

  Marcus Jr. and Ivanna had gone against their mother, father and the family and stood with the Black Lives Matter people at a rally at City Hall. Vinny had told them to keep lines of communication open, but they had taken it further.

  The leaders preached to the crowd, keeping their energy high. Pictures of past victims floated above the horde on signs and there was one of Ivory which stood with them like a ghost.

  Marcus Jr. gave a speech that was very powerful for someone his age but it was Ivanna who stood there, wearing the face of her dead sister who brought the house down with a tearful plea for action and justice:

  “My sister has been part of me

  since I was just a few cells in my

  mother’s womb. And all through my

  life, I have been dressing like her,

  talking like her and been mistaken

  for her. I have to look into her face

  for the rest of my life because we

  look alike. To say I feel like half

  of me is gone is not enough. Part of me

  was murdered in that police cell and

  I die a little every day knowing that it

  doesn't matter to many people who

  discount millions of us because just

  like my sister and I, we look alike.”

  The family would punish them, but I could tell that Ivanna and Marcus Jr. didn’t care. They’d had enough and wanted to do something to avenge their sister. This was all they had available.

  I was kinda proud of them for what they did, especially Ivanna, even though I would have to act like I wasn’t.

  As much as I have been around black people, I have never felt the weight of what they feel to be discounted by society. It is one thing to face the dangers of the world each day. It’s another to do so devalued by people who are authorized to use deadly force.

  All cops are biased against anyone who is not white, wealthy or famous. And if they tell you otherwise, what they really mean is, they temper their bias with reason. And when reason isn’t enough, people die.

  The woman I love, my son and my best friend are all black and yet when I see three young black men congregating, my spider sense goes off, and try as I might, I cannot stop feeling that way.

  And my nightmare is that one day, I will have only a second to act and I will choose wrong based on my bias and my soul will go straight to hell, or worse, that decision will be in the hands of some other cop and someone I love will be on the other end of the gun.

  I got another text message an hour later, this time from DeAngela and Jesse King. The political and media pressure was too much.

  They were also going to release the news that a second victim had been found. RaRa.’s death could not be covered up much longer and the city wanted to get out ahead of the information.

  Two unarmed black kids killed by the same cop meant more heat and more trouble. Some of the suspect cops were black but that would make no difference to the media or the movement. Anyone with a badge was one of them and immediately suspect.

  They were going to indict all of the cops on a variety of charges and then hope one of them would crack.

  I called Vinny and told her what I was about to do and she agreed and then cautioned me to be careful.

  I was only going to have one shot at making sure our killer did not escape or get himself killed in the process.

  I walked out of the Sewer knowing that if I failed, I might not ever be coming back.

  14

  FLIGHT

  Officer Dobbs Harson lined up each of his guns on the kitchen table in the back of his house. When they came, he would fig
ht and go out like a goddamned man.

  He had four .9mm handguns, a Glock 18 auto pistol, a Mossberg 500 shotgun, and an AR-15, his pride and joy. More than enough firepower for a real standoff.

  “Let them come,” he said to himself.

  He was already up on speed and he was drinking Jack Daniels straight out of a bottle, rocket fuel, he thought.

  He’d considered running, but where would he go? He was fucked and if they wanted it this way, then so be it.

  His wife, Glenda and his daughter, Janis would be very disappointed in him, but they didn’t understand what he had been through.

  They were visiting Glenda’s bitch sister, Theresa and they’d be watching on TV. He wished Theresa were here. He’d put one right in her fat fuckin’ forehead.

  Ivory Shaw had been too tempting for him or any real man. She’d pursued him, sent him naked pictures and sexy text messages. She’d even masturbated on camera once and sent it to him. What the fuck was he supposed to do about that?

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with and she’d really strung him out in the bedroom. He needed it and she knew he was hooked. That’s when things started to get ugly.

  Ivory said that she just wanted to have fun. Just sex. Sure, she asked for money now and then but they all did. But after a while, she demanded everything and if he refused, she’d threaten him.

  Dobbs had never been faithful, not even for a year after his marriage. He liked women and he couldn’t kick it. And when you're a cop, a lot of women come on to you. It was a toxic mix for him, a blessing and a curse.

  But he had tried to settle down with Glenda. She was just the kind of girl he was supposed to marry. Glenda with her good cooking, reasonable sex and toothy blowjobs. In the end, it just didn’t take.

  Ivory was what he needed. Shit, she was what every man needed. She was beautiful and adventurous. She liked hard sex, hair pulling, ass-slapping and dirty talk. All the stuff respectable women didn’t do.