Grind City

by Gary Hardwick

  Her place was not what I was expecting. Most cops were slobs when they lived alone. Jamilla’s place looked like Martha Stewart exploded in it. Everything looked coordinated, clean and neat.

  “Well, well, the white/black man comes to visit,” said Jamilla.

  “Nice place,” I said.

  She had been drinking and in fact held a glass in her hand filled with liquor.

  “I’m a neat freak,” she said. “My mama gave it to me. Everybody gets that look on their face when they come in.”

  She was a full-sized girl with big hips and a tight little afro. She was light brown and had freckles, which stood out on her face like paint.

  Jamilla was single and in her early thirties and rumored to be a lesbian. I didn’t think so. She liked men but probably had trouble finding and keeping one.

  Jamilla had that way about her that some black women had, a tendency to be distant and dismissive of men. Personally, I found that part of their appeal. Nothing good ever comes easy.

  “Thanks for letting me in,” I said.

  “I guess I should be glad you didn’t break in and tackle my ass like you did Dobbs. Dumbass. I told him… You know what? I ain’t talking to you. Get yo ass out before I call my lawyer and have you arrested.”

  “I know he didn’t do it,” I said. “And I know you didn’t either. That’s why I’m here.”

  “The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? Of course he did it. He was fucking her!“ She stopped then walked over to me and patted me down for a wire. “I’m speaking off the record now. If you try to use this against me, it won’t fly.”

  “If I got this right, all you did was look the other way while they had sex. I’m betting you did that a lot with Dobbs.”

  “Yeah, I did,” said Jamilla taking a gulp of her drink. “Man was a freak. Could not keep it in his pants. That young girl had him sprung but you all know that.”

  “Where did they have sex that night?” I asked.

  “No, you got to go!” said Jamilla refilling her drink. “I already said too much. You took down a brother. You can’t be trusted no more.”

  “Someone murdered a girl and framed you,” I said. “What about that? Look, if I can get this guy, you can keep your job.”

  This got her attention. The glazed look in her eyes was gone and she moved closer to me.

  “How you figure that, Cavanaugh?” she asked.

  “If Dobbs didn’t do it, there’s no crime to connect you to. He’s fucked because he resisted arrest and I’m pretty sure he switched out the computer tracking on the cruisers. You can deny knowing about that.”

  She was thinking now and I had to close her or she would find a way to shut me out. Truth was, I didn’t know if the department would go easy on her or not.

  “The bosses won’t like you and there will be some people giving you looks,” I said, “but in the end, you stood by your partner. Hell, I’d ride with a partner that loyal, wouldn’t you?”

  “I followed the rules, you know,” said Jamilla putting down the drink. “I didn’t rat him but he deserved it.” She waited a moment and then: “They did it at my place. Dobbs did that a lot, fucked girls at my place. No trace. He uh, he paid me for it some times. Didn’t ask where he got the money but you know how that is.”

  “I do,” I said. “Bent a little, bent a lot.” What I meant was, that since Dobbs was doing his dirt on company time, that he probably shook down local dealers or was being paid by one. “So, the last time you saw Ivory that night was here by your place?”

  “No,” said Jamilla. “Dobbs dropped me off at a diner that night. I had some food while they did it. Little ho probably told him about the kid, they argued and then they screwed. They did that a lot, some kind of freaky foreplay.”

  Her place was not too far from the 11th. I had the feeling they were not there by themselves that night, that Ivory was taken right under their noses by whoever killed her.

  “Where’s Ivory’s car?” I asked. “How’d Dobbs get rid of it?”

  “Don’t know,” said Jamilla. “Dobbs knew where she always parked. After we found her, he was panicked as hell. He must have driven it away after our shift.”

  “What do you think happened?” I asked eager to hear her version of it.

  “I don’t even know,” said Jamilla. “With the security down and at that time of night, she could've gotten in easily. Me and Dobbs were just hanging out but he did disappear for a while.”

  I watched her as she took another drink and something occurred to me again. Jamilla was a fairly attractive women but had no man. She was mad at Dobbs but her condemnation of him felt like the kind of anger more fueled by personal disappointment than frustration.

  “How long were you and he involved?” I asked.

  She was silent for a moment and I could tell she was thinking about lying and then: “Not long,” she said. “We hooked up a few times, mostly when we got high together.” Then she looked at me and added: “You know how it is.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said. “We got a baby now.”

  “I heard. Vinny was smart. She got off the force. Not good for mothering.”

  “Thanks, Jamilla,” I said. “I know this was hard. If you think of anything that can help, let me know.”

  “If Dobbs didn’t kill her,” said Jamilla, “I’d be shocked. When he talked about her, he was always angry as fuck.”

  I just nodded then left. I made my way back to the Sewer to talk to Erik. I was going to have to let him in on what I was doing now.

  I found him talking with one of the big brass on the Police Commission. He introduced me and I had to tell the Dobbs story again but I had it down by now. When we were alone, I gave Erik the bad news.

  “Fuck me ten ways to Sunday,” said Erik. “She was incubating someone else’s kid?”

  “Looks like it unless God is looking to save mankind again,” I said.

  “Well, this is easy,” said Erik. “We find the doctor and we find our killer, right?”

  “Maybe. So far, whoever this is has been really smart about it. Somehow, I don’t think they left tracks.”

  “How long is this going to take because I need you back to it. Maybe we let the prosecutor sort it all out,” said Erik.

  “You wanna tell that to Vinny and her clan for me?” I asked.

  “Look, nobody said this shit was gonna be easy, Danny. I’m your friend but I’m your boss, too. I let you do that bullshit murder to get Dobbs but now we got him.”

  “It’s not his baby,” I said.

  “You think he didn’t do it?” said Erik. “Okay, the baby ain’t his, but he’s still dirty.”

  “Why kill her in the precinct then? Don’t add up. It’s got to be one of the other seven. I’m hoping they think they got away with it. And let their guard down.”

  “All right,” said Erik. “I know that tone of voice. You’re going to do it no matter what I say. You’re gonna take some grief time, so if you screw this up, it’s not on me or the department, but you have to do something for it.”

  “No press,” I said way ahead of him.

  “Everybody wants to talk to you. I’ve had it with the silent but strong shit. You ain’t Batman, nigga.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh little. Not at the Batman joke but the nigga comment. Erik did love me like a brother.

  “What do I have to do?” I asked giving in.

  “Free Press wants to talk to you as part of a story they’re doing about the case. A reporter’s gonna call you. Just give him something juicy and we call it even. And after that, I’m sure they will all leave you alone.”

  “Not holding my breath on that,” I said. “Okay, so am I good otherwise?”

  “Yeah,” said Erik. “But if this info hits the town, I might have to tell you to back off, so you need to get to it quickly.”

  I left The Sewer feeling upset but Erik was right. I hated the press and I wanted to keep a low profile but people did want to know about this. I justified what I was goi
ng to do by saying it was for Ivory.

  But first, I called Marcus Sr. and told him and Cassandra that I was going to talk to the local paper. They were all for it surprisingly and I said that I would try not to embarrass the family. They thought that was funny for some reason.

  Fiona was waiting for me when I came to her lab to talk. Given the circumstances, she was looking surprisingly well. I immediately thought that she and Ngo had finally hooked up. I knew she’d never tell me and so I took her bright attitude as her statement. I was happy for her. That was at least a little good news on an otherwise shitty day.

  Fiona had gathered all of the fertility clinics in the area and cross-referenced against our list of suspects. Nothing connected them to our case.

  “Somebody put that baby in there,“ I said.

  I had Fiona look up Bakersfield’s medical practice to see if there was a fertility specialist there. There wasn’t.

  “It can’t be a coincidence that Bakersfield is a doctor,” I said out loud.

  “You’re asking the wrong question, smart boy,” said Fiona. “I’d be asking why someone would want a secret surrogate baby. Can’t figure that one.”

  “Me neither. Ivory had a whole other life going. We thought she was just scandalous. We had no idea what she was up to.”

  “So do you go to the fertility specialists one by one and see who cracks? I mean, they’re not expecting that you’re coming.”

  “That could take a long time,” I said. There were ten clinics on the list and twice as many doctors.

  “What would happen if I tried to get medical records on some of these places?” I asked.

  “They’d claim privilege and by the time you went to court, the cat would be out of the bag,” said Fiona.

  “What does it take to do something like this?” I asked. “Put a baby in a girl that’s not hers.”

  “The procedure is delicate, complicated and long,” said Fiona. “And so whoever did it had help and access to expensive equipment as well as the DNA used.”

  I was thinking all manner of dark shit now. That the baby was being born for organs, to sell into slavery or it was Satan’s.

  Ivory had stuck her foot into something really bad, it cost the girl her life and now I was walking down the same dark path.

  “Okay,” I said. “The sooner I get going, the better then. Time to go knocking on doors the old fashioned way.”

  I gathered the information and left. I was going to see Bakersfield again and this time I didn’t think it would be a pleasant meeting.

  18

  STAKES

  Renardo was feeling low because he had failed. His goal was to become a better person, a better man but he had been pulled right back into the gutter, right back to violence.

  White men. You just could not trust them. How could he have not seen that shit coming? He wanted to believe Thom was different but Renardo should have known better. None of them are different. They had no respect and really believed they were superior to other people.

  He was going to get his money and then kill Thom and his ugly ass wife, he thought. He might even have to get rid of Kelvin. The man was weak and dumb, a bad combination in his line of work.

  Thom might figure out he was marked and come prepared. But he could take him. Thom just thought he was a badass. He had no idea. Renardo had turned his mind and heart back to menace and he would not be stopped.

  He was going to get out of the game, maybe move to Hawaii and chill on the beach. City life was stressful and he was not going to be one of those unfortunate black men in the graveyard.

  He approached the home of Fred and Benetha Melvin, who owned the last house he needed on a city block. They were a nice, God-fearing couple who would not sell to him because of Reverend Payment.

  But the reverend was gone now, having made his restitution and running scared of being exposed as a pervert.

  The Melvins were the couple without vulnerabilities and that had presented a problem at first but Renardo was just gonna make them an offer over the value of the place then just split it with Thom. No need to get tough when you didn’t have to.

  He knocked on the door and Mrs. Melvin answered without opening.

  “What is it you want, young man?” she asked.

  “Just wanted to talk about the house again, maybe come to a deal,” said Renardo.

  The door opened and Mrs. Melvin stood with her husband, Fred. They look like an ad for a retirement home.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” said Mr. Melvin.

  “Yes,” said Renardo. “Can I step inside?”

  “Sure,” said Mr. Melvin.

  Renardo came in and was surprised to see Mr. Melvin putting aside a pistol.

  “Sorry about the hardware,” said Mr. Melvin. “Didn’t know who it was. Been some trouble around here lately. Now, what about the house?”

  “He wanted to talk about selling again,” said Mrs. Melvin. “I didn’t have a chance to tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” asked Renardo.

  “The Reverend Paymer bought it from us last week,” said Mr. Melvin. “Gave us a great price. Sorry.”

  Renardo’s head grew light for a second. He did not believe that that charlatan would have the balls to do this. Forget about him and the gay hooker; he was going to kill that fat bastard.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize,” said Renardo calmly. “Okay then, I’ll just be going.”

  “You can stay and have some tea,” said Mrs. Melvin. “It’s real cold out there.”

  “No thank you, ma’am,” said Renardo. “I have to get going but congratulations and good luck.”

  “Thank you young man,” said Mr. Melvin.

  Renardo walked back outside in the cold but he didn’t feel it. He was raging inside. Payment would know he was coming and so he had to be cool about himself.

  He got into his car and drove to Mount Holy Grace church on the west side of town. He got on his cell phone and called the good reverend. He had to wait for five minutes before the reverend got on the phone.

  “Been waiting on your call, Mr. Peoples,” said Reverend Paymer.

  “You must really believe in God to be doing this,” said Renardo. “I want my house back or I’ll show you and the tranny to everybody.”

  “My wife filed divorce on me,” said the Reverend. “So, I could give a shit. I don’t want it to come out but it’s not going to ruin me anymore. My congregation will understand. You can’t tell what Impala has between her legs from that shot, so they will just think I had a girlfriend. My church will forgive me for that.”

  Renardo mumbled a curse and Paymer chuckled.

  “Not so smart now, are you? See, I found out what that block is worth and you need that house. But it belongs to the church now. You want it back to complete that parcel, then give me that picture, my ten thousand and fifty-five more.”

  Renardo said nothing He wanted him to think that he was so pissed about it that he couldn’t talk.

  “I’ll give you back the picture and the ten but that’s it,” said Renardo.

  “You’ll give me what I asked for you little punk or I’ll screw up your deal with whoever wants that land. You gonna finance my lawyer fees for that woman I married.”

  “Fine,” said Renardo, “but I need it now, today. I’m coming by in two hours.”

  “My deacons will be armed,” said Paymer. “So, don’t even think about trying me.”

  “Just have the quitclaim on you. I’ll bring the contract.”

  Renardo hung up then cruised the neighborhood until he saw a young boy who had to be a drug dealer running between houses and cars.

  Renardo stopped the boy and made a deal with him. He took the kid over to the church, set him up, then waited another hour before he moved in.

  Renardo swung around the back of the place. It was empty. No one wanted to be outside in this cold and snow.

  He took out his gun and waited by the back door. He could hear music inside, a choir rehearsal, he thought.<
br />
  “Fuck with me,” he muttered to himself breathing hard. He checked his watch and it was almost time.

  Five minutes later, two loud shots rang out and the sound of shattering glass was heard as the young drug dealer fired into the church’s front windows. There was screaming inside as the music stopped.

  Suddenly, the door Renardo stood by flung open and Paymer and two big men ran out.

  Renardo shot one of the men in the leg. He fell and screamed. The other he shot in the belly and he fell alongside the other one.

  Renardo tripped Paymer and he fell flat on his face in the snow.

  “Anybody moves and I’ll kill you!” said Renardo.

  He went to the deacons who were both yelling in pain and bleeding into the snow, removed their guns and threw them into a snow bank. He got Paymer to his feet and took him over to his car and had him open the door.

  “Sign this deed and this contract or I will end you right here,” said Renardo.

  “You’re crazy,” said Paymer. “You can’t shoot up a church.”

  “Sign it!” yelled Renardo and hit Paymer in the gut. He grunted as Renardo shoved a pen into his hand.

  Paymer signed both documents. Renardo didn’t care that it could be challenged. He just needed to show it to Thom. And it was the principle of it all. He would not let a stiff ass like Reverend Payment beat him at his game.

  “You need to stay in your lane Rev,“ said Renardo. “You earned this.”

  Paymer yelled as Renardo shot him in the ass. The reverend grabbed himself and staggered away, blood running down his pants and into the white ground.

  Renardo ran off as people started to come out of the front of the place. He would circle back to his ride and be gone before the cops or anyone else could come.

  In the back of the church, the deacons yelled for help as Paymer clutched at his chest, gasping and fell on his side.

  19

  SERVICE

  Dr. Bakersfield did not look happy to see me as I walked up to him in the hallway. He was doing rounds at Mercy Hospital. He looked busy and so I was catching him at good time for interrogation.