by Mike Nappa
“Yeah, I love you too, Tru-Bear. But don’t worry. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He slammed the door and ran toward the warehouse.
Trudi tracked Samuel as he skimmed across the parking lot. She started counting. One two three four five six—she watched her ex-husband pause at the door to the warehouse, then slip inside—seven eight nine ten.
That was long enough, she decided. He must have known she wasn’t going to sit in the car like a helpless little girl and wonder what was happening inside. She slid out of the driver’s seat and made her way quietly across the pavement, following the same path her ex-husband had taken. Like him, she paused at the door and tried to discern what was going on inside.
She heard nothing. No sounds of a scuffle, no shouting, not anything.
I know I heard a gunshot, she said to herself. Didn’t I?
She unholstered her Beretta Tomcat from the back waistband of her jeans, then squeezed inside the warehouse. She found it empty, lights shining brightly overhead, everything packed, palleted, and prepared for business-as-usual in the morning. Trudi was almost disappointed. After the way Samuel had warned her about calling the police, she’d expected some kind of nefarious contents hidden in here—pirate treasure or illegal ivory or something. But there were just stacks of antique furniture, cases of books and clothes, and all kinds of oddities that soon would either populate the shelves of Mama’s store or be shipped to online customers longing for that one-of-a-kind gift for a loved one.
She stepped along a wall, ears straining to hear anything. A little farther in, she wondered why neither of the security guards she’d seen outside was anywhere in sight—and how Samuel could have disappeared so quickly too.
A few more steps and she thought she heard voices. She froze and listened intently, but it all sounded like mumbling and polite conversation. Is this the scene of a crime or not? she wondered. She crept closer to a tall row of metal shelves, still trying to make out the sounds coming from behind there.
She suddenly saw a large form stride into view, a man talking on a cell phone.
Samuel?
“. . . accident with a handgun,” he was saying. He stopped short when he saw Trudi, partly crouched with her Beretta Tomcat held at the ready. He rolled his eyes and motioned for her to put the gun away. “That’s right. It doesn’t seem serious, but I can’t tell if the bullet hit bone or just passed through. Yes. Yes. Thanks. Tell the paramedics we’ll wait for them in the back, by the warehouse entrance. Okay, bye.”
He ended the call and gave Trudi his “disapproving parent” look.
“Shut up,” she said. “I was worried about you.”
His face softened, but before he could say anything else, Mama Bliss rolled around the corner, cloaked in a worn, frumpy nightgown, followed by two security guards, one of them limping and being held up by the other. The left pant leg on the limping guard was cut into strips, and she could see a length of cloth had been cut out to hold a bandage around his ankle.
“I swear, Donnell,” Mama Bliss was saying, “if you hadn’t just shot yourself in the foot, I’d fire you on the spot. But now I’m obligated for worker’s compens—Trudi?” She stopped and looked at Samuel, then back at Trudi. “Samuel, you didn’t tell me Miss Trudi was with you. And wearing such a pretty necklace too. That from my movie collection?”
“Hi, Mama,” Trudi said uncomfortably, fingering the movie prop from The Lord of the Rings that Samuel had given her. She was suddenly glad she’d already re-holstered her pistol before Bliss had seen it. “Nice to see you again. Yes, Samuel gave it to me. I love it.”
Bliss’s eyes narrowed in Samuel’s direction, but to Trudi she said, “Well, come give Mama a hug, honey. It’s been too long.”
The limping security guard groaned.
“Give it a rest, Donnell,” Bliss said over Trudi’s shoulder as she received the quick hug. “You shot yourself in the ankle. You deserve a little suffering.” To Trudi she said, “He was trying to spin his Colt 1911 handgun like some Wild West cowboy.”
“Mama,” the security guard whined.
“Dropped the gun, it went off, and next thing you know the gang’s all here.” To Donnell she said, “When you get licensed to carry anyway? Darrent said you failed the marksman certification test and had to carry a stick for a while instead.”
“Mama . . .” Her name was a moan. “I’m bleeding.”
“Hush, now. Samuel wrapped you up all good and tight, and I can hear the ambulance siren already. You going to be fine.”
“He passed the test last week, Mama,” the second security guard volunteered. “Darrent just authorized him to carry on Tuesday.”
“All right. Go get fixed up now. Leave me to talk with our guests for a minute.”
The two security guards limped toward the warehouse door to meet the ambulance. After they were gone, Bliss looked at Samuel but spoke to Trudi. “Your ex-husband said he was out on a midnight drive to clear his head. As he was passing by the back entrance to my store, he heard a commotion and came a-running to make sure I was all right.”
Trudi figured it was time to throw her ex-husband under the bus. “That was the best you could do, Samuel?” she said. “You used to be an honest-to-goodness spy. What happened to you? If you’re going to lie, you should at least work up a good one. You know, like you did with me for so many years.”
Mama Bliss snorted a short laugh while Samuel looked betrayed. But Trudi could tell it had worked. Bliss’s suspicions had been alleviated, at least for the moment.
“So tell me,” Bliss said to them both, “why is Coffey & Hill Investigations sitting around in my parking lot in the middle of the night?”
Trudi looked at Samuel, not sure what to say at this point.
“Just following up on a lead,” he said. “Didn’t mean to intrude, but we heard the gunshot and, well, coming in to check it out just seemed the right thing to do.”
“You still on that Nevermore thing?” Mama said. She didn’t look pleased.
“Have you heard anything new, Mama?” Samuel said.
“I told you, Samuel Hill, it’s a hoax. A dead end. A nothing. Somebody talking up a ghost just to cut a better deal with the D.A.”
“Mama,” Trudi said, “what do you know about a street magician named The Raven?”
Bliss shrugged. “I don’t get out to Freedom Park much anymore, honey.”
“How about Councilman Max Roman?” Samuel said.
The old woman’s eyebrows rose at that name. “He’s going to be the next mayor of Atlanta,” she said. “So what?”
“He’s got a fundraiser coming up in a few weeks,” Samuel said. “In fact, Trudi’s been invited to attend his dinner as a guest. Are you a Roman supporter?”
Trudi watched storm clouds brew in Bliss’s face. “You know how I feel about politics, Samuel,” she said. “It’s all nonsense and corruption. I don’t give a mouse’s behind who’s mayor of Atlanta. Might as well elect Donnell out there, far as I’m concerned.”
“So you’re not going to the fundraiser?”
Mama sighed. “Samuel, honey, it’s late, and I’m tired. Trudi, it’s wonderful to see you again, but maybe it’s better if we catch up another time.”
Trudi could tell that her ex-husband wasn’t ready to leave, that he wasn’t sure what Mama Bliss was or wasn’t saying, and that he didn’t want to stop this mini-interrogation without getting some answers. But she could also tell that Bliss’s patience was gone, that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and that it was best for all if they put off this conversation until sometime during the day.
“Of course, Mama,” she said. “Come on, Samuel.”
Her ex-husband hesitated.
“Come on, Samuel,” she said again, and this time he responded to her voice. He leaned down and pecked Bliss on the cheek.
“Good night, Mama,” he said. “Sorry to have barged in this way. We’ll talk again soon.”
“It’s okay, Samuel
,” Bliss said. “You’re just doing your job, I know. And I know you came in here for me. I’m glad I can count on you to protect me, even in the middle of the night.”
Trudi shared her goodbyes, then followed Samuel out, leaving Mama Bliss sitting in her wheelchair in the middle of the warehouse. By the time they got to the door, Donnell and the ambulance had already gone, and the other security guard was standing vigil outside. He nodded when they left, then went back inside to Mama Bliss. This time he made sure the door was all the way shut and locked.
When they got in the car, Samuel was frowning.
“What?” Trudi said.
“Did you see any sign of that magician kid? The Raven.”
“No. Maybe it’s like you said earlier. Maybe he got scared and went out by a different exit.”
“That’s possible, I guess. But judging by the way Mama answered your question, I’m betting he’s still in there. And she knows it.”
“How do you figure?”
“When you asked if she knew him, she said she didn’t make it out to Freedom Park anymore. And the only way she’d know The Raven performed at Freedom Park is if she knew The Raven.”
Trudi nodded. That made sense, but why would Bliss want to keep something as innocuous as her knowledge of a street magician hidden from them?
“I’ve known Mama Bliss for a long time,” Samuel continued. “Sometimes she has secrets to keep. That just comes with her territory.”
“And?”
“Sometimes the secrets she keeps are deadly.”
28
Bliss
Atlanta, GA
Little Five Points
Friday, March 31, 12:51 a.m.
14 days to Nevermore
Bliss found the thief sitting at her table, waiting. She checked the desk and saw all three items she’d left were still there, untouched.
“I thought you’d be long gone by now,” she said. She rolled her chair into the office toward the desk, then stopped.
The boy was holding her picture.
“What’s this?” he said. He lifted Davis’s image for her to see.
Bliss instinctively patted the place where her breast pocket would be, even though her mind told her she’d emptied that pocket before going to bed.
“You’re a magician,” she snapped. “Read my mind and tell me.”
He stood up, slowly, asking for permission to walk toward her. She nodded. He moved to the desk and laid the picture on the edge where they both could see, but he laid it facedown, with the back clearly visible.
“Six names,” he said. “Four crossed off. Two left.”
Mama felt her heart suddenly beating like it would break. She wanted to lie down and let it stop its racing, let it settle back within her chest into the rock it normally was.
I’m just tired, William. I want to sleep.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”
He reached over and picked up the stack of cash, then turned to face her. “If you’ll still have me,” he said, “I’d like to accept that job offer. Is that still an option?”
She nodded, still feeling the uncertain rumble of her heart inside her chest.
“When should I start? Do you want me to come back tonight?”
She nodded again, still unable to speak. There was an awkward silence between them.
“What time should I come in?” he said.
She didn’t answer.
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, then he said, “That fifth name on your list. Can I ask you about that one?”
“Everybody dies,” she said softly. “We all deserve to die.”
“My daddy used to say that’s why we all need Jesus.”
Bliss looked up at him sharply.
“Sorry. My dad’s a pastor. Back in Oklahoma. Guess he’s still preaching at me even though we haven’t spoken in years.”
Bliss rolled her chair slowly around the desk. Preacher’s kid, she thought. Always the best and the worst of us, I think. She felt a great weight pressing on her chest, wondered briefly if that was her soul, then let her mind make the decision it had wanted to make all night long.
“Sit down, Raven,” she said as she moved. He obeyed, returning to his place at the table while she spun her chair into place behind the desk. She looked at him, looked at the clock, and then looked back at the picture lying facedown in front of her.
“You want to tell your story first, or you want me to tell mine?” he said. He seemed to be reading her thoughts. Maybe he was a good little magician, after all.
She sighed and closed her eyes, not wanting to see what was hidden behind them but not able to blind herself to that view either.
“His name was Davis,” she said out loud. She didn’t hear any response. If she hadn’t known The Raven was sitting just a few feet from her, she wouldn’t have guessed he was still in the room, he was that quiet. “Davis Walker Monroe, middle name taken after my maiden name. My daughter, Lenore, got pregnant her senior year in high school. They told her she could still finish school, but she dropped out anyway. She never liked school, and Davis was her excuse to quit. Few years later, she left. My husband was already gone by then, so I took Davis, and Lenore took the rest of the world.”
“Where’s she now?”
Bliss shrugged. “Who knows? Haven’t heard from her since . . . well, since I don’t know when. Maybe she’s dead too. I got no way of knowing.”
“So what happened to Davis?”
“My boy grew up. Grew into a man. He was going to be the first of us to go to college, going on an ROTC scholarship that would’ve made him an officer in the army after he got out. Summer before he was to start college, he took an internship at Roman Development Corporation.”
“Max Roman’s real estate company?”
“Mm-hmm. The Romanenko family business.” She opened her eyes and stared blankly across the room. “At first I thought Max was doing me a favor, keeping my grandson out of trouble until he could go off to school in the fall.”
“You and Max Roman are friends?”
She frowned. “Business associates. We do business. That’s it. But sometimes that business gets complicated. Sometimes he helps me in ways he wouldn’t normally be inclined, and sometimes I help him, usually with some political contribution or backdoor facilitation.”
“Backdoor facilitation? What’s—no, never mind. So what happened when Davis went to work for the Roman Corporation?”
“How much do you really want to know, boy?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
Mama Bliss nodded. It felt kind of good to finally get this story out of her. Almost therapeutic. She wondered how this would-be thief could have that effect on her. But what could he do, under Max Roman’s thumb and obviously on the outs with the police? Besides, maybe this was her confession. She’d never had much time for religion. Maybe this was the way she atoned for her sins.
“Max introduced Davis to some of his other ‘projects’ in the internship program at Roman Development Corporation. He calls it the Second-Chance Program, where he hires gang members, mostly Blood Kipo boys. He gives them jobs and claims to rehabilitate them from their criminal ways by pulling them out of poverty.”
“But he doesn’t really do that?”
“I guess for some it works. Enough to make the program look legitimate. But Max also uses those gang kids for other things. For work outside the law. Oh, not directly, of course. No one could ever tie Max Roman to any specific crimes or gang sets. But if he wants to buy a certain part of the city, you can bet that crime activity will spike significantly in that area for about two years before he makes an offer.”
“Gangs invade, cause trouble, and bring down real estate prices, then?”
“And when values are low, he buys low. Redevelops. Orders the gangs away. Prices rebound in his new ‘safe’ communities, and he sells at massive profits.”
“And Davis?”
�
�He sent Davis in to learn business with the Kipos. That was my grandson’s so-called internship. He put him in a gang, and they went out to rob a jewelry store.”
Mama Bliss felt lost again for a moment, reliving the memory. The Raven let silence be their guide, waiting until she was ready. Finally she spoke.
“Police put together the timeline of events afterward,” she said. “Seems about right to me.” She rattled off dates and times like she was reading a report. “March 10, 2009. At four o’clock a.m. my grandson and two other ‘interns’ stole illegal guns from an unguarded storage facility. Guns being laundered for overseas distribution.” She hesitated, then worked through the choking feeling in her throat. “Next he went to the home of one of the other gang members, where they slept until noon. At one-fifteen they went to a local bar, where they drank and played video games most of the afternoon.”
“Nobody asked for ID?” he interrupted.
“Not that kind of bar. Nobody asks any questions about anything over there.”
“I see.”
“Around six in the evening, they went out for pizza, then back to the gangbanger’s apartment. At 8:45 p.m., they arrived at Perimeter Mall up in Dunwoody. At 8:58, they stormed into Zales Jewelers, demanding jewelry and cash. What they didn’t know was that they’d been spotted ten minutes earlier by a suspicious security guard when they first entered the mall. That guard saw a trio of drunk, loud gang members up to no good, and he called the police. He also followed them to the jewelry store, talking to the 911 operator the whole time, narrating where they were and what was going on.
“At three minutes after nine o’clock, the police had them trapped inside the store, with hostages. SWAT arrived shortly after that. One of those drunk gang members panicked and fired a warning shot to keep the hostages subdued. Police thought the robbers were killing hostages, returned fire, and stormed the store.
“There was only one casualty—Davis Walker Monroe, age nineteen.” Bliss didn’t bother holding back the tears now. It just didn’t seem worth it. “My baby. My baby boy. He was supposed to change the world. He could have changed the world. And now he’s nothing but dust, dust, dust.”
