by J. T. Lewis
“Just how well do you know this woman?” Preacher asked suspiciously, “If you don’t mind my asking.”
I had to laugh at the question.
“Everybody that has ever been a beat cop in this town knows her,” I replied without embarrassment.
“If you knew her when you were with the city, she must be pretty old by now,” Preacher observed. “Maybe she’s not in it anymore.”
“She doesn’t walk the streets anymore,” I continued as I turned down Tate Street, “But she is still around. She still has her own clients, but she’s sort of the unofficial madam of most of the younger girls in the area.”
“Plus,” I added as I parked the car at the curb, “She deals in information. It will usually cost you some cash to get it, but it’s almost always on the mark.”
Preacher nodded, looking out the window at the house we had stopped in front of, a ramshackle affair with no paint left on the siding and the windows covered with newspaper.
“She must be lacking customers on both counts, her house looks ready to fall in,” Preacher mumbled before turning back toward me. “I guess she wouldn’t just accept credit card payment over the phone for the info?”
I grinned at my partner before I opened the driver’s door.
“Don’t let the outside fool you. She just leaves it that way to aggravate her neighbors.”
“Besides,” I added with a wink, “I never said that I would have to pay.”
***
“Jesus!”
Being more of a nocturnal animal, it had taken several rounds of knocking at Lacy Love’s door to finally roust her out of bed. When she did eventually open the door, she was met by the sight of Preacher.
After a few moments of shock, her professional attitude kicked in, her gravelly voice pointing to her steady two pack-a-day habit.
“Listen buddy, unless you really are Elvis and wanna share your fortune, you need to come back tonight after 10:00.”
“Hello Lacy,” I said from the sidewalk, hidden from her view by the solid door.
Her eyes went wide in shock as a worried look appeared on her face. Before I knew what was happening, she had raised a sawed-off shotgun that she had been holding behind her. Quickly poking the barrel into Preacher’s chest, she kept pressure on it as she continued.
“I don’t like surprises mister, tell your goddamned friend to come out where I can see im!”
I smiled for a moment as I saw Preacher’s reaction to the barrel of the gun being pressed against his chest. A confident smirk appeared on his lips, and I knew he would try to disarm her at any second if I didn’t step in.
Who would ultimately win that tussle; I wouldn’t be willing to bet on.
“He’s a friend of mine Lacy,” I said as I stepped out from behind the door, “You used to treat my friends a little better than that!”
It took her a few moments to focus on my face, a small smile appearing as recognition set in. Lowering the shotgun, she stepped back to allow us entrance.”
“You coulda just told me who you were asshole,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on my lips.
“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes doll,” she crooned, “Are you here to finally make me an honest woman?”
A sad smile crossed my lips as I hugged her back, “You would probably kill me in bed Lacy; I’m not as young as I used to be.”
She answered with a phlegmy laugh as she pulled away from me.
“I ain’t fucked anyone to death in three or four months! It could be my age, but I’m thinking it’s me forgetting to pick up my vitamins!”
“Humph,” we heard from Preacher as a small smile appeared.
Shaking her head and staring at my face, she brought her hand up and stroked my cheek. “You look great Gabe,” she sighed with a smile before turning and heading for the kitchen.
“Come-on then,” she said with a wave, setting the shotgun down against the wall. “If you ain’t here for sex, then I’ll be needing some coffee!”
As we followed her into the plush kitchen, I thought back to the girl that Lacy Love used to be.
***
Beulah Lacey had grown up poor. Living with her abusive father, she hid in the background at school, preferring invisibility to making friends or getting involved in classes. She did what she was required to do in her young life, no matter how painful.
She had been indoctrinated into sex at an early age, servicing her father at the threat of a whipping, or worse, if she denied him.
Through it all, she survived. The lonely life, the abuse…she took it as it came and made her way through it one day at a time.
Until she couldn’t anymore.
One cool autumn day when I was a freshman in college, I had decided to go for a run during my weekend at home. My meandering course through town had eventually taken me past her house, where my reverie had been broken by a blood-curdling scream.
I truly thought somebody was dying!
Not thinking rationally, I ran through the door to find Beulah straddling the unconscious body of her underwear-clad father. A cast-iron skillet lay on the floor beside his head, and a knife was raised above his chest…in Beulah’s trembling hands.
“Beulah?”
I called out her name softly from where I had come to a screeching halt inside the door.
“He raped me,” she said softly, her shaking hands still held aloft.
“We’ll call the police,” I finally answered. “They’ll take him to jail.”
She shook her head violently.
“He’s done it since I was seven,” she answered with tears streaming down her face, “He deserves to die!”
Not knowing what else to do, I took a step closer.
“He will die,” I said evenly, taking yet another step, “They will put him in jail forever for what he did to you.”
I wasn’t overly confident that I was telling her the truth, as my knowledge of criminal law was negligible at that point in my life. But it seemed important to calm her down any way that I could.
“They will take you to prison however…if you kill him.”
I could tell this was the first time she had given the idea any thought.
“It doesn’t matter! My life sucks, and it’s all because of him. Prison couldn’t be any worse!”
I had taken another step while she talked, but I was still too far away to grab the knife.
Suddenly, Beulah stood up. Whirling around, she dropped heavily onto his stomach, an ooff escaping his unconscious lips. Starting at the waistband of his underwear, she quickly slit through the material, cutting the underwear off and grabbing his testicles in her hand.
“Maybe I’ll just castrate him!” she screamed with renewed vigor, “Make him live the rest of his life as half a man!”
She held the point of the knife shakily against his penis, but looking into her eyes told me that her resolve had returned.
Not knowing if I had any time left, I dove for her, the knife clattering to the floor as we landed hard on the other side of the prone man.
“Let go of me!” she screamed as I held my arms around her tightly. “Let me finish it! I don’t care if I go to prison!”
I continued to hold my arms around her tightly, loosening them only a little when the racking sobs started. Turning her to face me, I hugged her as she finally let go of her anger.
We held onto each other for most of the next hour until her sobbing diminished. Finally standing, I pulled her up off of the floor and sat her at the kitchen table. Her dad was starting to come around, so I tied him up with some clothesline I had found outside. I sure didn’t want to deal with him before the cops got there.
I then called the police department, giving them the address and the situation before going to the table and pulling a chair up next to Beulah. Reaching over, I took her hand in mine as we waited.
“I guess I should thank you,” Beulah mumbled, “Although I’m still ok with killing him.”
I nodded as I heard the far-off sound of approaching sirens. “I’m sorry for what you have been through,” I said sincerely, gripping her hand a little tighter, “I had no idea.”
“You have a chance at a real life now though,” I continued, thinking I was saying the right thing.
Confusion crossed her face, then anger.
“What real life? What can I do besides clean the house and lay on my back submissively?”
I was at a loss for words.
Luckily at that moment, a cop stumbled in the door with his weapon drawn, moving our focus at least momentarily away from the future.
Finding Beulah’s father tied up on the floor, he holstered his gun and kneeled down to check for a pulse.
“I’ll help any way that I can,” I whispered, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek.
***
The rest of that day long ago had been filled with the things that usually follow a call to the police. Endless questions and a trip to the police station had effortlessly filled up what had started off as a quiet autumn morning.
Thankfully, they believed our story and didn’t file any charges against Beulah.
I had always felt bad about the outcome though. Leaving for school again the next day, I had not made it home again until the holidays. By that time, Beulah had changed her name and embarked on her new career.
Even though I had guilt over the outcome, Lacy seemed pleased with the way her life had turned out.
She finally had control!
And she had been forever grateful to me for “saving” her that day, making it plain that I would never have to pay for any service that she offered.
“You here for information then?” she smiled as she set a cup of coffee in front of me and then Preacher.
“Hopefully,” I acknowledged as she sat down with her own cup. “We are trying to find out any information on a certain man; someone that we believe may have had contact with your circle.”
She smiled at me, “You know how I enjoy helping you any way that I can Gabe. What about this man you are looking for makes you think I may know anything?”
“I don’t know for sure Lacy, we are actually grasping at straws here. The man is dead, but we can’t identify him and we don’t even know where he lived. If we could find a link to him, it would maybe help us find his handler…his boss.”
“Oooo….I’m all jittery with excitement,” she grinned, “Tell me about him!”
“He was thin, not over 5’8” I’m guessing, with darker skin. We believe he originally had dark hair…but when we found him, he was completely hairless…”
Preacher and I both jumped as Lacy slapped her palm on the table with a loud giggle.
“Yep! I know of him! My girl Lindsey serviced him a few times…told me some whopper tales! We always share about the strange ones! And he always paid with cash!”
I grinned.
“Strange?”
“Oh yeah…he was all about himself! Always had to have a mirror on him, no matter what position they were doing. Lindsey said that a couple of times, he would have her just lay on the bed and say dirty things to him while he whacked himself off in front of a full-length mirror.”
“She didn’t even have to take her clothes off!” Lacy added unbelievingly.
“You got a name,” I asked her excitedly, “Or an address?”
Nodding, she got up and left the room, returning in a minute with a large, professional looking planner and wearing a pair of jewel encrusted reading glasses.
“Here it is!” she exclaimed, “I remember him calling on the 4th of July, had a dickens of a time finding Lindsey that day!”
Sitting down, she extracted a notepad from the side pocket of the planner. Writing furiously for a few moments, she looked up with a smile and handed me the note.
“That’s where we were always sent. And he always gave his name as Alonzo Gates, but I’m pretty sure that’s not his real name.”
Leaning over conspiratorially, she whispered, “Lindsey told me that whenever he got off, he would shout things like ‘Yes! Hector is the man!’”
Smiling, I folded the note and put it in my pocket, thanking Lacy as I stood up.
“Thanks Lacy! As usual, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You sure that’s all I can do for you old friend?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck once more and planted another kiss on my lips. Sliding her face against mine, she put her lips to my ear.
I’ll even do your friend for free if you want! she whispered.
Thanks Beulah, I whispered back. But you know how jealous I get when you’re with another man!
Lacy fell into a fit of laughter as we made our exit and headed to the car.
“What was that last thing about,” Preacher questioned as he plopped down in the passenger seat, “Seems she found it mighty funny.”
I smiled as I started the car.
“I think I just reminded her of something from the past.”
Chapter 64
September 25, 1999
“We gonna do this legal?”
I took my eyes off of the apartment building as my partner uttered these words, knowing he was thinking the same thing as I was.
“Yep,” I replied quietly, “We need to call it in, set up a perimeter and block entry or exit to anyone while we wait for the warrant, not to mention contacting the Task Force and forensics.”
Preacher nodded glumly as our eyes moved back to the apartment before us.
I opened my car door then and started to exit the car.
“Where ya going?” Preacher asked
I leaned back into the car, “Considering the nature of the alleged felon and the fact that he recently used explosives in his work, I feel it’s our duty to at least do a preemptive sweep to ascertain if there are any dangers about that would jeopardize any of the larger force.”
Nodding with a small grin, Preacher also exited the car. Trying to act nonchalant, we made our way toward the door. It was unusually dark there, and I noticed that one of the streetlights wasn’t working.
“What do you bet that our perp disabled that streetlight to cover some of his activities?” I asked in a loud whisper as we walked.
Preacher glanced up at the darkened fixture. “Yessir… seems like a logical assumption.”
The apartment had its entrance facing the street and we made our way to the door undetected in the extreme darkness.
“I got this,” I whispered as I pulled the lock pick set out of my pocket and extracted the proper pick and torsion wrench. Inserting the wrench, I applied a slight pressure to the lock as I inserted the pick and started working the tumblers.
Although I liked to think differently, I was terrible at picking locks. After the third or fourth attempt I heard people approaching down the sidewalk. A cold sweat broke out on my face as I redoubled my efforts.
Work the lock, ignore the people, work the lock, ignore the people…, I repeated to myself quietly as I tried to stay cool.
“Gabe?” Preacher whispered.
I got this! I whispered again, my confidence ebbing as the people got ever closer.
No problem, Preacher answered dryly. I’ll just go pretend to rob those people so they don’t notice you.
At that moment I felt the last tumbler click into place as the torsion wrench moved.
Ha, ha, I whispered loudly, sounding like a kid as I turned the lock and entered the apartment. Moving out of the way, I waited until Preacher was also in before closing the door.
Silence!
And then a beeping started.
Shit! I whispered hoarsely.
Security system! Preacher exclaimed at the same time.
“How much time?” I asked Preacher as I turned on my flashlight and started looking for the control box.
“Usually 90 seconds,” he replied tensely, “Sometimes 60.”
“Find the control box,” I yelled over my shoulder as I started opening closet d
oors in every room I came to.
“Found it!” Preacher called from the Kitchen a few moments later.
Making my way back, I saw that he had his head stuck into what turned out to be a mechanical closet. Looking in, I found the tan metal box tucked in between the furnace and the water heater.
Knowing a little about security systems, (very little), I started looking for the power supply that I knew would be plugged in somewhere close to the unit. I heard the beeping of the security system keypad in the background, annoyingly counting off the seconds as I frantically looked.
“Found it!” I exclaimed as I spotted it behind the furnace. Reaching in, I pried the power supply out of the outlet with my fingers.
Beep, Beep, Beep
“Dammit! The battery!”
In my frantic search for a way of disarming the system, I had forgotten that almost every security system had a battery backup!
Looking at the tan box on the wall, I saw that it was also locked! Sighing heavily, I reached into my pocket to again extract my picks until I was unceremoniously shoved out of the way.
“Scuse me,” Preacher mumbled as he whisked by me in the small closet. Extracting the thin knife out of his Bible, he set the book down on the water heater before effortlessly prying the knife under the edge of the door and popping it open. He then grabbed one of the wires that came off of the battery and easily sliced through it with the stiletto.
The beeping stopped.
I took the first normal breath since we had walked up to the door of the apartment. I also noticed that I was soaked in sweat.
Thanks, I said to Preacher, reverting back to whispers in the now silent apartment.
He nodded as he reinserted the knife back into the Bible. Mind if I make an observation? he asked.
Sure! I replied as I put the lock picks back into my pocket.
You suck at this illegal shit!
***
We spread out, Preacher starting in the bedroom as I worked through the desk located in the living room. We had finally donned gloves, having forgotten during the excitement of entering the apartment. We would have to wipe down anything we might have touched during our break-in.
It didn’t take long to confirm that we were indeed in the apartment of the man that called himself Alonzo Gates. The few bills I could find on the desk showed that he always paid his bills on time, but I could find no trace of either a bank statement or a credit card bill.
