by Glenn, Roy
“Just friends?”
Carmen tipped her head to one side and smiled. “Are you asking if me and Marcus are having sex?”
“Are you?”
Carmen dropped her head a little. “Yes.”
“You know what’s up with that?” Black asked.
“What’s up with what?”
“With Marcus and those women.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Marcus is fuckin’ them women silly.”
“He does have the package to do it.” Carmen took a shallow of her drink. “I know he fucked the shit outta me.” Carmen looked at Black playfully, and then she leaned forward. “If I had to compare, you being the biggest and the best man I ever had, he would be number two on that list.”
“I’m just honored I got a spot on the list.”
“The list ain’t that long. Trust me,” Carmen said and took a playful swing at him.
After the breakup, Carmen threw herself into modeling, and that left very little, if any, time for men. When she did get involved with a man, it wouldn’t be long before Carmen would get tired of him and end it. Except for Pierre, they met while she was working in Paris. They stayed together for almost two years. He spoke no English, and Carmen spoke just enough French to get by living in Paris. She ended it when he started learning to speak English.
If Carmen wanted to be honest, she’d have to admit that for years after they broke up, if a man wasn’t Mike Black, she didn’t want him. And while she was being honest, she might as well admit that not much had changed. “What about you, any woman in your life?”
Black didn’t answer right away. He thought about CeCe, and Jacara, and Mystique, and Jackie. Mercedes even crossed his mind. Then he said, “Yes.”
“Do I need to ask how many?”
“I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”
“No. For some reason, I don’t think I do. Any of them serious?”
“One.”
Hearing that Mike Black was serious about a woman, Carmen’s facial expression changed. “What’s her name?” she asked, feeling herself getting jealous and wondering why.
“Her name is Cameisha Collins.”
“Well if you’re serious about her, why isn’t she with you?” Carmen asked with a bit of an attitude.
“She was, but she had business in Nassau, so she left this afternoon. Right now she’s at my house in Nassau with Michelle.”
“You have a house in Nassau?”
“One in Freeport, too; my mother lives in that one.”
“If that adorable little girl and your woman are in Nassau, what are you doing here?” Carmen asked in that same tone of voice.
Black picked up on it and leaned forward before he spoke, “I came up here for a meeting a week ago. Then a friend of mine was murdered, and I believe we already talked about what happened with that. I had planned on going back to the island this afternoon with CeCe, when Wanda invited me to have dinner with her, and this very beautiful woman that I haven’t seen in seventeen years.”
Carmen’s angry and jealous mood softened a bit. “So when are you going back?”
“That depends on whether you’ll have lunch with me tomorrow.”
Carmen exhaled. “I’m tempted to say yes right away, but I have to work tomorrow. See, I’ve gotten a bit more responsible since the last time you saw me. I don’t lose my mind and drop everything just to be close to you,” Carmen said and thought about how much she’d like to do just that. Discipline, Carmen, she told herself as she’d done so many times in her life. “I’m covering a Panda at the Bronx Zoo. You should come.”
“As much as I’m tempted to say yes immediately, because dropping everything just to be close to you seems like a good idea to me,” Black said and Carmen blushed, “I’m going to say no.”
“Why?”
“I wouldn’t want to be a distraction.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Carmen said quickly and paused. “Who am I kidding? You would be a big distraction if you were there.”
It was past five am when Carmen decided it was time for her to go. She always could hold her liquor, but she did have work to do that day. And getting some sleep so she wouldn’t look like she’d been up all night drinking Bacardi with an old friend, was what she needed to do.
“As much as I hate to say this, I think I should call it a night,” Carmen said and drained her glass.
“I was just about to suggest that we go someplace and get something to eat. You still like grape jelly on your pancakes?”
“I do.” Carmen smiled. She was a little hungry, and she had been drinking all night. Getting some food in her stomach would probably be a good idea, but she followed the progression of how things would go if they left there together.
Since neither of them was in any shape to drive, they would have to take a cab to wherever they were going to eat. On the ride in the cab, they would sit close to each other, and would laugh and talk more about old times. And if he whispered in my ear, I would not be responsible for what would happen next. “No, Mr. Black. I’m going to have to take a rain check.”
“That’s twice you’ve turned down my invitation. You tryin’ to tell me something?”
“No,” Carmen said quickly. She stood up and came around the table. Carmen stood before Black and held out her hand. He stood up and Carmen touched his face. “I do want to see you again, but seeing you tonight after all this time—I just need a minute to process this.”
“I understand.” He kissed Carmen on the cheek. “You made my life complicated too.”
Chapter Seven
That next afternoon, Carmen went to the studio to speak with Louis, the managing editor, about doing a follow-up to the story. When she arrived, Louis was meeting with Steven McCain. When he came out, Steven walked up to Carmen. “He’ll see you now,” he said and rolled his eyes at her. She ignored him and went in.
“Have a seat, Carmen.”
“Thank you.”
“You did a good job the other night, Carmen.”
“Thank you, Louis. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Louis spun around in his chair and looked out the window. “Let me guess: You want to do a follow-up on the story, right?”
“That’s right.”
Louis thought for a minute, and then he spun around and looked at Carmen. They had spoken about her doing more than just fluff reporting, and each time, he turned her down. His excuse was always the same. “You’re not ready yet.” Since he just got through telling her what a good job she’d done, that excuse wouldn’t fly anymore. He understood all too well where this was going. If he didn’t give her what she wanted, it wouldn’t be too long before Carmen left for another station. Ratings had been up since Carmen joined the team, and he wasn’t about to let her go.
“What happened out there the other night?”
“I did the story,” Carmen replied sheepishly.
“That’s not what I mean. Steven said he didn’t make it because you gave him the wrong address.”
“I did.”
“Yes, Carmen, you did. You sent him to 8th Street.”
“Really? I’m sure I said eighteenth.”
Louis chastised her for giving the wrong directions to the crime reporter. Then he told her that she could do a follow-up since she had developed the contacts, but to give anything she finds to the crime reporter. Once he promised that she would get in some camera time on the story, Carmen agreed and left the office.
Her first stop was the police station. When she got there, Carmen asked to speak to either Detective Harmon or Detective Mitchell. Since neither of them was there, she hung around and tried to get some of the background information she needed. She had been there for the better part of an hour asking questions, and not getting anywhere, when the detectives returned.
“Detective Harmon, Detective Mitchell, can I get a minute?”
“Not right now, sweetie,” Detective Harmon said and kept walking past Carmen
on the way to his desk.
“Jerk,” Carmen said quietly.
“He can be sometimes, but he’s a good man,” Detective Mitchell said and smiled at Carmen.
“You heard that?”
“I hear everything, honey. What do you need?”
“Just a little information about the murder.”
“Walk with me,” the detective told her. “We don’t have much, but I can tell you that the victim’s name is Tangela House.” Carmen pulled out her recorder. “She’s from Lower Paxton, Pennsylvania. It’s a township outside of Harrisburg. She has two arrests: one for prostitution and the other for possession of heroin. Right now that’s all we got. And I would prefer that you don’t release info about her record.”
“Can I ask why?”
Detective Mitchell stopped and faced Carmen. “You were there that night, Ms. Taylor. You saw the type of people at the event. If we broadcast that the victim was just some junkie hooker, and not one of their own, how much cooperation do you think we’ll get?”
“I see your point.”
“Good. Because you’re the only one I’ve told; so if it gets out, I’m gonna know it’s you,” Mitchell told her.
“Why are you telling me then?”
“To be honest, it was the way Jack played you off. ‘Not right now, sweetie.’ That was so sexist. I know what it’s like not to be taken seriously because you’re a pretty woman.”
Carmen laughed a little. “Yeah, I guess you do,” she said, and the detective continued toward her office and Carmen walked along with her. “Has the coroner established that she was murdered?” she asked.
“The cause of death was asphyxiation with the strap of a purse. She had sex prior to her death.”
“Was the sex consensual?”
“Inconclusive. If you want my opinion, she was murdered while she was having sex. But that is just my opinion, and it is off the record,” Mitchell insisted.
“Do you have any suspects?”
“Oh, just half the society page was at the opening. We’re conducting interviews of the guests, but so far, we haven’t come up with anything.” Carmen thanked the detective for the info, but she decided to hang around the precinct for a while to see what else she could pick up.
Detective Harmon sat at his desk looking over Tangela House’s arrest record; Detective Kirkland approached his desk.
“Kirk? What are you doing here?”
“My partner and I were talking to your captain about a case we’re working,” Kirk said and sat down. “How’s it going, Jack?”
“Just trying to get back in to it.”
“Heard they gave you a rough time.”
“Yeah; you know how Internal Affairs does it, Kirk. They take you through a whole bunch of shit and then they say, sorry—”
“We were just doin’ our job,” Kirk said, finishing the sentence.
“You know the routine,” Detective Harmon said as Kirk’s partner, Detective Richards, stuck his head in the door.
“Kirk. We gotta roll.”
“What’s up?”
“Rain Robinson is conscious,” Richards said, and Kirk jumped up and followed his partner out the door.
When the detectives were gone, Harmon picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Hello.”
“Nick—it’s Jack. Rain Robinson is conscious.”
“She talk to anybody?” Nick needed to know.
“Kirk’s on his way there now.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Nick said and ended the call.
Harmon hung up the phone and left his desk. When he did, Carmen walked by the desk. Tangela House’s file was still on his desk. “Is it okay if I use the phone,” she asked, to know one in particular. When no one answered or even paid her any attention, Carmen sat down and picked up the phone. While she faked a conversation, Carmen took out her iPhone and took a picture of Tangela’s mug shot. She closed the file. “Thank you,” Carmen said and left the precinct.
Chapter Eight
Kirk and Richards arrived at the hospital to question Rain Robinson about what they assumed were a series of drug-related robbery/homicides which, that to this point, remained unsolved. They were on their way to question her once before, but they arrived just in time to see Rain get shot.
“Miss Robinson,” Kirk said when he walked in the room. “I’m Detective Kirkland and this is Detective Richards. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Am I under arrest?” Rain asked defiantly.
“No,” Kirk said.
“Then y’all can get the fuck on,” she said and rolled on her side.
Kirk pulled a chair next to the bed. “I want to talk to you about a series of what we think are drug-related robbery/homicides.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said unless I’m under arrest, y’all can get the fuck on,” Rain told the detectives without looking at them.
Richards walked around to the other side of the bed and got in Rain’s face. “We can do this any way you want, but you are going to talk to us.”
“Two words: Fuck and you.” She rolled over and looked at Kirk. “You better tell this cracker to get the fuck out my face.”
Kirk laughed. “Pat, why don’t you give me and Miss Robinson a few minutes?”
When Richards left the room, Rain sat up slowly in the bed. “So you’re Kirk, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“People tell me that you’re a right guy.”
“What people would that be?” Kirk asked. He assumed the source was Mike Black. When Black was accused of murdering his wife Cassandra, it was Kirk who took it upon himself to prove that Black didn’t do it. Black felt like he owed Kirk for that.
“Just people.”
“How are you feeling?”
“My chest hurts. I got shot, you know.”
“Can we talk about that?”
“What about it?”
“Why did Bernard Claxton shoot you?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Where’s Blue?”
“He’s dead.”
Rain smiled. That was one less person that she would have to kill when they let her out of the hospital. “How’d he die?” She still needed to know.
“I shot him.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, can you tell me what happened? Why did Blue shoot you?”
“We was havin’ an argument and the mutha fucka shot me.”
“What was the argument about?”
“I got robbed that night at the club, and I thought he was involved, so I stepped to him.”
“So your club got robbed and you accused him of being involved, so he shot you; is that what your telling me?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Do you know a man named Kenneth Rollins? Goes by the name KK Rockwell.”
“Yeah, I know Kay. What about him?”
“He was murdered along with five other men three days ago.” Kirk got a tip that KK Rockwell would be the next target of the drug-related robbery/homicides he was investigating. The bodies were still warm when he got there.
“That’s fucked up for Kay, but I don’t know anything about it,” Rain lied, knowing that she and Nick were responsible for three of those bodies.
“What about James Easely. Goes by the name Jay Easy; you know him?”
Rain laughed a little. “I know that nigga too.”
“He was murdered on the same night. As a matter of fact, they were both murdered on the same night that you got shot.”
“Busy night.” One of the robbers told Rain that Jay Easy had sent them, right before she shot him.
“They found his body in the street.” When Rain caught up with Jay Easy, she shot him in the head.
“What kind of car do you drive, Miss Robinson?” After Rain shot Jay Easy, she pushed his body out of the car.
“Red Lexus.”
“You don’t own a gray Taurus?”
“No. Why?
”
“I’ve got witnesses that said a woman matching your description, and a man, were seen leaving the scene of both murders in a late model, gray Taurus. And we found a car matching that description parked outside your club.”
She knew everybody knew her Lexus on sight, so she paid cash for the Taurus. “So you sayin’ I killed them niggas?”
“Did you?”
“No,” Rain smiled at the detective. “But you think I did, don’t you, Kirk?”
“I’m just asking questions, you know, to eliminate you as a suspect.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“I’d like to know where you were when Rollins and Easely were killed.”
“You know where I was. I was at my club getting robbed, and then I got shot by that bitch-ass Blue,” Rain said and Kirk laughed.
“Can you tell me about your relationship to Nick Simmons?”
“You ask a lot of fuckin’ questions.”
“I’m a cop, Miss Robinson; it’s what I do.”
“My daddy told me something once, a long time ago.”
“What’s that?”
“He said, ‘Lorraine, one day a cop is gonna ask you a bunch of questions because they think you committed a crime. But here’s the thing, cops only ask questions when they don’t have anything. If they had something, like evidence, they wouldn’t ask you shit. They’d just fuckin’ arrest you and be done with it’.”
“Your father was a smart man,” Kirk said, and knew that she was right. He had nothing to tie Rain to any of the murders. The woman, who saw her leaving the scene of Jay Easy’s murder, couldn’t pick Rain out of a photo array. There were no fingerprints at all in the gray Taurus, and it wasn’t registered in her name. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I know Nick.” Rain sat up as best as she could. “He dead too?” she asked, and hoped he’d say no.
“Not that I know of,” Kirk said, and Rain breathed a sigh of relief. “But let’s get back to Rollins and Easely. You asked me if I thought you killed them. Want me to tell you what I think?”
“Go ahead,” Rain said graciously.
“I don’t think you killed Rollins or KK Rockwell, or whatever stupid-ass name he called himself.”
