by Roy Glenn
Agent Rietman immediately picked up the phone and requested all information pertaining to the death of Mondrya Foster. As the agents looked over the client lists, Marcus and Carmen sat quietly, exchanging glances. At the moment, Agent Grant came into the room. She smiled at Marcus and Carmen as she walked over and whispered something to Agent Rietman. Whatever it was she told him raised an eyebrow. “We just got back the preliminary report on your car. Ms. Taylor, I see the car you were driving is registered to Roland Ferguson.”
“Yes, he's my brother-in-law. The car belonged to my sister.”
“Would you mind walking me through the accident, Ms. Taylor?”
“Okay, we had just left,” Carmen was about to mention Jamara's name, but remembered her reluctance to be involved with law enforcement. “Driving down Stone Mountain-Lithonia and I was about to stop at the light when I stepped on the brake and it didn't work.”
“How long have you been driving the car, Ms. Taylor?”
“A little more than a week, I guess.”
“Have you had the car serviced during that time?”
“No. What's this about?” Carmen asked.
Agent Grant sat down next to Carmen, “Ms. Taylor, we checked out the car and your brakes had been tampered with.”
“What did you say?” Marcus asked.
“The brakes on the car were tampered with,” Agent Grant said.
“How?” Carmen asked.
“The brake line was cut. And it was cut in such a way that it would be very hard to tell when it was done.”
“How is that, Agent Grant?” Agent DeBreeze inquired.
“The cut was so small that the brake fluid just leaked out over a period of time. You see, each time you stepped on the brake a little more fluid sprayed out until there was none left to stop the car.”
“Okay,” Carmen said slowly. “So what you're saying is that somebody tried to kill me?”
“Yes, Ms. Taylor,” Agent Grant said quietly. “That's exactly what I'm saying.”
Carmen dropped her head in her hands. Marcus gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Mr. Douglas, this is excellent work you've done here. If this disk contains what I think it does,” Agent Ward rose to his feet again. “We'll be putting Mr. Bill Hudson in jail where he belongs and for a very long time. But, there is one thing that bothers me.”
“What's that Agent Ward?”
“What does any of this have to do with Ms. Taylor's sister being murdered?”
Carmen looked up at Agent Ward. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is; Hudson and his company are involved in money laundering. And he is probably deeply involved in murder to cover up those activities. For instance, John Heard and Coleman Wilson, you heard of them? Wilson was a senior exec at Hudson.” Both Marcus and Carmen nodded their heads, remembering Joanne Henley mentioning their names in connection with the story she was working on. “Heard was an FTC investigator. I received a memo from him stating that Wilson was willing to go on record and tell all he knew about what's going on over there. But the very next day one hangs himself and the other chases sleeping pills with vodka. So we got Suzanne Collins found dead in her office, butt naked. Her husband Frank is the only suspect, but he commits suicide, case closed. Now you've made us aware of,” Agent ward looked around the room.
“Mondrya Foster,” Agent Grant said as she handed him what information they were able to get. “She gets this information to you, and she is shot in a robbery,” he glanced at the report. “No suspects. You folks following me yet? Ms. Taylor, you're sister was murdered violently. All of the other murders connected with this case all follow the same pattern. So I'll ask you again, what does any of this have to do with your investigation?”
Marcus looked at Carmen and then at Special Agent Ward. “Nothing.”
ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
Marcus and Carmen sat quietly in the back seat of Agent Grant's Crown Victoria as she drove them away from the federal building. Agent Grant glanced in the rear view mirror, she could see the dejected look on both of their faces as they contemplated the ramifications of Special Agent Ward's question. He was right. What did any of the goings on at Hudson Financial have to do with the murder of Desireé Ferguson? Special Agent Ward had made a valid point. Desireé was murdered violently. It was a crime of passion. Each of the murders connected to Hudson Financial were committed in such a way that it would minimize police involved.
Agent Grant turned into Marcus's driveway and turned off the car. Marcus thanked agent Grant for the ride and for all she had done. As he got out of the car, Carmen leaned forward and whispered to Agent Grant, “Can you take me somewhere else?”
“I'll take you where ever you need to go. And stay with you for as long as you need me to.”
“Good. Can you give me a minute?” Carmen jumped out of the car and caught up with Marcus. “Marcus, I'm going to have agent Grant take me home.”
“Okay,” Marcus turned and started back toward the car. “I'll go with you.”
“No, Marcus. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Are you gonna be alright?”
“I'll be fine, Marcus, really. Agent Grant is going to stay with me for as long as I need her to. I'll call you later tonight. Okay,” Carmen said and kissed Marcus on the cheek. Marcus opened the car door for her.
“Okay,” Marcus said reluctantly. “If you're sure you'll be alright.” He shut the door. “Call me tonight!”
“I will,” Carmen yelled back as Agent Grant pulled out of the driveway.
“Where do you want me to take you?” Agent Grant asked as she drove.
“Just drive for now, I need to text somebody,” Carmen replied, dialing her phone. Before to long the phone rang and Carmen answered. “Hello.”
“This Denny.”
“What's up Denny Boo?”
“Waz up, Carm. This your new number?”
“It sure is.”
“Hold up, let me save it. Now. Waz up, Carm? I ain't heard from you. I thought you went back across the water and all that was just talk on the radio about you shaking your groove thang at Bell Bottoms.”
“Nope. Still here. And I'll probably be her for a while. I'm thinking about buying a house.”
“No shit. You staying? That’s cool, Carm, maybe then you'll pencil me into your busy schedule.”
“Actually, Denny Boo, that's why I was calling. I need to see you.”
“When.”
“As soon as you can. I need a favor.”
“What you need?”
“I'd rather not say over the phone. I'll tell you when I see you. Can I meet you somewhere?”
“Yeah, why don't you meet me at Grant Park?”
“Grant park, huh?” Carmen said and a little smile came over her face.
“You remember our spot.”
“Yeah, I remember. You feeling a little nostalgic today?”
“Something like that. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I'll see you there,” Carmen said and pressed end on the phone. “Agent Grant, would you mind taking me to Grant Park?”
“Not a problem,” Agent Grant said as she made her way toward I-20. “Mind if I ask you a question, Ms. Taylor?”
“Sure go ahead.”
“I overheard parts of your conversation. You know, the part about not wanting to say over the phone. I know that you were very disappointed by what Agent Ward said. But please, don't do anything you might regret later.”
“Believe me, Agent Grant, I won't do anything stupid. There's just something that I need to get.”
When Agent Grant arrived at the park Denny was there waiting. He was sitting on the trunk of his car enjoying a drink and people watching. When he saw the black Crown Victoria stop behind him, he got up and started walking away. Carmen jumped out of the car. “Denny Boo!”
“Damn Carm, you scared the shit outta me.”
Carmen stuck her head back in the car. “Thanks for the ri
de Agent Grant.”
“Do you need me to stay and wait for you?”
“No, Agent Grant, I think I'll be safe with him. Safer with him then most places in the world,” Carmen said looking out at Denny. “But I want to thank you for everything.”
“Alright, Ms. Taylor. But please, take my card,” agent Grant handed Carmen her card. “Promise that you'll call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you. Agent Grant.” Carmen replied happily and accepted the card. “If I see anything out the way you'll be the first person that I call.”
“I'll be checking on you,” agent grant said and she drove away.
“What's going on, Denny Boo?”
“Waz up, Carmen. Who was that? Looked like a cop.”
“That's because she is a cop. That was Agent Azizah Grant of the FBI.”
“FBI! What you doing with the FBI? Better question, why you bring the FBI anywhere near me?”
“She was assigned to protect me. But I told her that I would be safe with you.”
“Why was she assigned to protect you?”
“Somebody tried to kill me.”
Denny listened as Carmen explained to him what she and Marcus had been working on and how she came to need the protection services of Agent Grant. “Marcus huh? That the stiff you brought to my mom’s house?”
“Yes, and he is not a stiff. Marcus is a very nice man.”
“Nice man, huh? Bet he ain't nothin' like me?”
“No, Denny Boo, he is nothing like you.”
“You probably ain't never got with a thug nigga like me. Have you, Carm?”
“To be honest with you boo, there was this one guy I used to date in New York that makes you look like a habitual J-walker.”
“Oh really. Habitual J-walker, huh? How you run up on him?”
“I met him when I first moved there after I left Spellman. You remember Jackie, stayed in the room next to me and Desireé?” Denny nodded. “She didn't go back to school in the fall, so I was staying with her off Jackson Avenue. So me and Jackie were hanging out in the valley one night and we took the train home. I looked up and there he was, standing over me. So he sat down next to me and we were talking. He was wearing a long black coat and I know he's got a gun in the pocket, because I could feel it bump against my leg every time the train stopped. And he was with this other guy. He was standing by the door and he's got a gun, too. Only his is in his hand, but he's holding his coat over it. So he asks me where I was going and I said to Jackson Ave.”
“I'm getting off there too.” He said.
“Do you live around there?”
“No. To be honest with you, I'm going there to kill somebody.”
“Kill somebody! Why?”
“Because they tried to kill me. But I don't want to talk about that. I'd much rather talk about you. Is that a Georgia accent I'm hearing?”
“Yes, I'm from Atlanta.”
“Atlanta is a nice city. What brings you to New York?”
“I came here because I needed a change. So I've been hanging out with my girl here. If I like it, I'll stay. Get back into school, see if I can pick up some work as a model.”
“You're a model?”
“I've done some modeling in Atlanta. Some print, some commercials, shows; that type of stuff.”
“Freeze,” he said glancing up at him. “Nevermind. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper, Carmen?”
“What do you want it for?”
“I want to give you the number of somebody who might be able to help you.”
“Okay,” Carmen said digging in her purse.
Carmen handed him the pen and paper and he wrote a name and number on it. “Here,” he said, handing the pen and paperback to Carmen. “This guy is a modeling agent. Call him and tell him what you've done and what you're interested in doing and he'll take care of you,” he said as the train approached the station.
“Thank you. I'll do that right away,” Carmen said as they got off the train and walked down the platform toward the steps.
When he got to the bottom of the steps he turned to Carmen. “It was nice talking to you, Carmen.”
“Hey!” Carmen yelled as he started to walk away. “What's your name?”
“My name is Mike Black. Just tell Calvin that I'd consider it a personal favor if he found you something.”
As Carmen and Denny walked the paths through the park that they used to all those years ago, she continued, “So I called the guy the next day and that was my first break.”
“So he hooked you up, huh?”
“He sure did. And I wanted to thank him. He never gave me his number, so I practically had to beg Calvin to tell me some way that I could get in touch with him.”
“Why did you have to beg him?”
“Because Calvin didn't think Vicious Black was the kind of man that I needed to be hanging around.”
“Vicious Black?” Denny asked curiously.
“That's' what some people call him, but he doesn't like it.”
“Why do they call him that?”
“He told me the story of how he got the name, but I won't bore you with the story, but he runs gambling and prostitution in the Bronx.”
“What's so vicious about that?”
“Oh, stop being a player hater, Denny boo. I told you when I met him he was on his way to kill somebody. Anyway, we only went out a few times. He was always busy. But he was my last thug nigga. But Denny Boo, you'll always be my favorite.”
“Yeah, whatever, Carm. So what you need me to do?”
“I need a gun.”
“What you need a gun for, Carm?”
“To protect myself. Marcus doesn't think I need one, but too many people are dying over this for me not to protect myself.”
“I don't know about this gun shit.”
“Why?”
“Carmen, you're a model. You don't need to be carryin' no gun.”
“Why, Denny? What? You think I don't remember how to shoot?”
“The thought had occurred to me.”
“Well, I'll tell you what, let's go to a shooting range and I'll prove I can shoot,” Carmen said confidently. “Will that satisfy you?”
“It'll prove you can shoot, but why can't you just go buy one if you just need it for protection?”
“Because I don't want to wait five days for a background check.”
“I know a place where you can get one today without going through all them changes. In fact, that would work out better. I don't want you anywhere near no gun I could get you. Ain't no tellin' who done what with them.”
Carmen and Denny walked back to his car and then drove Carmen to a little gun shop in Jonesboro. Denny knew the owner and had done business with him before. An hour later, Carmen walked out of the shop a new Kel-Tec P-3AT’s .380. One of the easiest to conceal handguns of an effective caliber that could be found. Denny still wanted Carmen to prove that she could handle the weapon, so he drove her to a gun range.
With her new gun tucked securely in her purse, Carmen had Denny drop her off at the Ritz Carlton in Buckhead. Once he drove off, Carmen got into a cab. It wasn't that she didn't trust Denny, but she didn't want to involve him in the mess she was in. She still wondered who would want to kill her, especially if Desireé's murder had nothing to do with Hudson Financial. But it didn't matter; if anybody came after her she would be ready.
PICK UP THE PIECES
Marcus wandered around his house like he was looking for something. But he wasn't. He was thinking about what Special Agent Ward told him and Carmen. There was a certain finality in his statement. What does any of this have to do with the murder of Desireé Ferguson?
Marcus walked over to the bar and poured a glass of Hennessy. With the bottle still in hand, he drained what he had poured and filled the glass again. He dragged himself to his chair and sat down. He couldn't help but to think about Carmen. When she drove away with Agent Grant, the smile that he had grown to love was gone.
Love.
Was he really in love with Carmen, or was it just the fact that they had been working so closely together? He didn't know, and at that moment, he didn't seem to care. Marcus picked up the phone and dialed Carmen's number, and hung up as quickly. “Give her time, Marcus. She said she needed some time.”
But suppose she really wanted me to contact her and she just needs a little push?
“Whatever, man,” he said and finished his drink.
He decided to make constructive use of his time. Marcus went into his office and got a pad and a pen. He returned to the living room and put Lee Morgan in the CD tray, poured himself another shot of Hennessy and began making notes of everything they had learned to this point. He wrote down the conclusion they had drawn from it and where that conclusion led them. In each case the conclusion led them closer to Hudson Financial. So if those conclusions were incorrect, he would have to consider alternate theories. He picked up the phone and called his office, Janise answered.
“Janise, is Tiffanie available?”
“She's not on her line, hold on, Marcus, I'll transfer you.”
“Tiffanie Powers.”
“Hello, Tiffanie, this is Marcus.”
“How you doing, Marcus?”
“I'm fine, Tiffanie, but I need your help.”
Tiffanie's eyes bucked open and she sat straight up in her chair. Being the ambitious woman that she is, Tiffanie had been looking for an opportunity to step up. “What can I help you with?”
“You know I've been looking into the murder of Desireé Ferguson, well, this morning I ran head first into a brick wall.”
“What happened?”
“It seems that we backed into a FBI/DEA investigation into money laundering activities at Hudson Financial and several murders that occurred to cover it up. I was sure that those murders were connected in some way to Desireé Ferguson, but now I'm not sure.”
“So how can I help?”
“I need a sounding board, Tiffanie.”
“Me?”
