Pyramid Deception

by Austin S. Camacho

  “Orson, do you suppose we could save the official statements until after we get to some fresh clothes?”

  Rissik huffed out a sigh. “I suppose the statements can wait until tomorrow. I’ll be occupied questioning your assailants, even though they look more like the victims. Just tell me if you think they had anything to do with Monroe’s murder.”

  Hannibal chuckled. “Best I could gather, they think it was me. They came after me to avenge his death. But I’ve got one wild idea who the killer might be. I don’t think I can confirm it on my own, but if you could do a little digging into some government records for me…”

  “Why of course Mister Detective Man, of course I’ll do your research and legwork for you,” Rissik said, slapping Hannibal’s back. “Is there anything else I can do for you? A massage perhaps?”

  “Well, actually, do you suppose we could get a ride back to Crystal City? That’s where I left my car before these nitwits snatched us up.”

  A crisp fall breeze cut into Hannibal as he stepped out of Rissik’s car. Crystal City was a whole different place in the light of day. Being the commercial side of Arlington, traffic was dense on a Monday morning. The river of cars was slow but the tide was strong, the flow forcing its way down Route 1 toward the Pentagon or on into The District. Tributaries branched off to flow down into the underground parking lots. And Hannibal knew there was even more hustle and bustle underground where a mass of commuters poured out of the Metro trains into rented government space. Those offices filled the buildings on the east side of Route 1, AKA Richmond Highway, AKA Jefferson Davis Highway.

  There wasn’t that much foot traffic, but the people who were on the street all walked like they had someplace to be and were already late. Hannibal had to force his way into that flow to open the front passenger door for Cindy. She thanked Rissik for the ride, turned to take Hannibal’s outstretched hand, and stood as close to him as possible. As the car pulled away Hannibal looked down into her face, scrubbed clean and fresh. He loved her without makeup and with her hair just a little unruly.

  “You are lovely.”

  Her head fell forward into his chest. “Get me into your car.”

  “Self-conscious?”

  “Hannibal, I’m standing on the street wrapped in a…”

  “Mr. Jones!” A voice called from behind him. Cindy pulled even closer to him, muttering, “Oh, no,” under her breath.

  Hannibal turned to see the woman pushing through the crowd rushing to work, shoved downstream a bit but pushing back up to meet them at the curb.

  “Mrs. Thomas, what are you doing here?” Hannibal asked. He had imagined her a night person and expected her to sleep until noon. She wore casual clothes this time, black slacks with a plain white blouse and tennis shoes, but her hair and makeup were perfect. He felt Cindy cringe in self comparison.

  “Mr. Jones I had to see you, to apologize,” Sarah Thomas said. “Nasir called me, woke me up to tell me where he was and more important, what he had done. After I got finished cussing him out I knew I had to talk to you. I figured you’d have to come back for your car so I waited and…”

  The rush of Sarah’s words had taken Hannibal by surprise and frozen him in place. Now she paused, as if seeing them for the first time. Her mouth stayed open as she took in Cindy’s appearance. A revolving series of emotions played across her face: guilt, pity, sorrow, confusion, and back to guilt. Her right hand reached out but didn’t quite touch Cindy’s shoulder.

  “Oh my Lord, you poor child. You have had a horrible night and here I am running on and, well I know you have NEVER appeared in public looking like that. You must be… please, please come down in my office. We need to get you cleaned up, and I think I have some things in your size.”

  Sarah stepped back and directly into a marching businessman. He thumped into her, scowled, but then was swept away by the human current. Hannibal wrapped an arm around Cindy’s shoulders and guided her across the sidewalk. Sarah opened the door to The Lucent and waved them inside. Clearly she had been expecting them, since the door was already unlocked.

  Without patrons or workers, the place reminded Hannibal of a movie set. There was a sense that this place was not quite real. A faint scent of pine hung in the air and everything gleamed, even the poles. Sarah guided them to the elevator, followed only by the echo of their footsteps on the tile.

  The ride down was short and a bit claustrophobic. Hannibal was braced for action when the doors slid open but of course they faced nothing but an empty room. Sarah quickly ushered Cindy out and across her office to an almost hidden door. Hannibal stood for a moment, surprised to be left alone. When he heard a shower running he sat in the same chair he had used on his last visit. He followed his girl’s unseen actions by sound alone while replaying his last conversation in that room.

  The flowing water ended. Soft footsteps. Hangers scraped across a rod. Material ruffled. Muted conversation. A quiet giggle that could only be his girl. Hannibal smiled. And as he listened he mentally sorted through the clues Sarah had shared when they talked.

  When the two women reappeared Cindy was transformed. The simple, bright blue sleeveless dress fit her as if it were made for her. The wide belt accented her trim waist. Her hair had been curled and brushed out to give it life without calling attention to itself. Her face, her arms, her legs, all of her skin glowed with freshness. That, the lack of jewelry, and the fact that she was barefoot made her seem years younger to Hannibal. This was the Cindy Santiago he might have met in High School.

  “What are you staring at lover?” Cindy asked. Hannibal just smiled, and after a moment, Cindy giggled a bit. Like a schoolgirl.

  “Come over here, honey,” Sarah said. “Let’s finish off that look.” She guided Cindy to a vanity with a three-part mirror. She sat Cindy facing the mirrors and began to work her hair with a brush and short spurts of hairspray.

  “I’ve got a feeling you wish The Lord had sent you a little girl,” Hannibal said.

  “That’s why I kept trying,” Sarah said, smiling at him in the mirror. “But you know I love my boys, every one of them.”

  “I’m sure of it. That’s why I was going to visit you later today anyway. I think you’d do just about anything to help Darryl, Eddie and Nas out of the trouble they’ve gotten themselves in.”

  Sarah moved the brush a little more slowly. “Look I know they did wrong but I was hoping we could find a way to get past this business. They didn’t really hurt you…”

  Hannibal waved her words away. “Last night is small stuff. I don’t intend to press any charges if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

  “I knew you were a right guy.”

  “But that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Hannibal said. “Your boys are implicated in a couple of murders.”

  Sarah’s face clouded up. “You think my boys really killed somebody?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They made it clear to me that they really cared about Wash, so it’s hard for me to imagine them hurting him. But the court might not see it the way I do.”

  “What can I do?” Sarah asked. Cindy’s hair was almost perfectly styled as Sarah’s expert hands moved of their own accord. “There must be something… some way I can help my boys.”

  “Actually, there is something.” Hannibal locked eyes with Sarah in the mirror. “If you will help me get access to some official records, I think I can figure this all out and maybe keep Darryl and Eddie and Nas from facing a life sentence.”

  -20-

  Hannibal grinned, and then admitted to himself that the oddest things would make him smile. In this case he was thinking about government euphemisms. People passed away instead of dying. Fanatics didn’t commit genocide but instead engaged in ethnic cleansing. Women had pregnancy terminations instead of abortions. And Fairfax County, Virginia didn’t have a jail. No, they had an Adult Detention Center.

  Hannibal got as comfortable as he could in a purposely uncomfortable chair in the visiting area of
that Center, which was almost within shouting distance of Rissik’s office. The stark gray blocks of the jail sat right next door to the imposing brick county courthouse building with its trio of three-story arches on the front. County police offices also shared the grounds of the Public Safety Center – whose name gave Hannibal another smile.

  While he waited Hannibal stared at the blank, beige wall of the visitors’ area, replaying the week’s events like an old, sepia-toned movie. A week had passed since his visit with Sarah, and it had been a challenging week for him and Cindy. Monday she had returned to work, playing catch-up on the cases she was working before her world had collapsed. Hannibal had a mountain of correspondence he had ignored, but while he tended to it he continued to dig into the dark corners of the life of George Washington Monroe. He was sure that was the path to understanding his death.

  A deputy swung the door open and Hannibal stayed quiet as Darryl limped into the room. It saddened Hannibal to see how natural Darryl looked in a bright orange jumpsuit. The prisoner settled into the chair across the table and glared at his visitor.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” Hannibal said.

  “Wanted to see mama.”

  “Of course,” Hannibal said. “She’s talking with Nas right now. And I know Sarah told you to let me talk to you.” He also knew she was taking care of her boys. Darryl was clean shaven, his hair was brushed and Hannibal could smell a very masculine cologne. Personal hygiene was one way an inmate could hang onto his humanity when surrounded by animals.

  “Yeah.” Darryl almost spit the word. “Now I got to wait a week to see her. One visitor a week. You better have something mighty damn worthy to say to show why it ought to be you.”

  “I do. Unless you like the idea of being stuck in here. Is this your idea of a nice vacation?”

  “Very funny,” Darryl said. “I hate this place.”

  “Yeah, you and thirteen hundred other knuckleheads. Except maybe you don’t deserve to be here.”

  To his credit, Darryl stared straight into Hannibal’s eyes. “No, man. We did what we did. Kidnapping is what it was, and I’ll take the rap for what I did. But it was me, alright? I forced Eddie and Nas into it.”

  Hannibal brushed the lie out of the air with his hand. “What you did to me, that’s not even the point, man.”

  “So what is the point?” Darryl leaned in, the edge of his hands slapping the table.

  “The point?” Hannibal repeated through clenched teeth. “The point is the woman. The woman who was gunned down right in front of me. I can’t just let that go.”

  “So?”

  “So? You do realize I’ve got enough on you to pin that murder to you, don’t you?”

  Hannibal figured Darryl must play a lot of poker. He closed his eyes for half a second, but betrayed no concern. He just said, “Maybe.”

  Hannibal was a poker player too, and knew how to play a weak hand. “No maybe about it, moron. I can make sure you go down for this.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Darryl said, leaning back. “I ain’t kill nobody.”

  “I don’t think you did,” Hannibal said in a quieter tone. “but I think you can help me figure out who did.”

  A new light appeared in Darryl’s eyes, a light he rushed to hide. “No, I don’t think I can.”

  “Don’t think you can, or don’t think you will?”

  “No, I can’t,” Darryl said, shaking his head. “I just can’t. And even if I could, why the hell would I want to help you? Your bitch stabbed me in the leg.”

  Hannibal looked down and took a breath. When he looked up he bared his teeth. “You don’t disrespect her.”

  “She shouldn’t have stabbed me.”

  “You shouldn’t have pointed a gun at me.”

  “You shouldn’t have killed Papa Wash.”

  Hannibal rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Jesus, you’re an idiot. Look, you want to see your mama today or not?”

  “Sure I do, but so what?” Darryl asked. “You ain’t no cop. You ain’t nobody. You ain’t got the juice to get me allowed a second visitor today.”

  “No,” Hannibal said, “But I know somebody who’s got the juice to take you out of here for a couple hours. Now what do you say?”

  -21-

  “I don’t know, Hannibal,” Cindy said, massaging his shoulders. “Do you really think this will work? I mean, it made sense when you laid it out for me this morning, but…”

  Sitting in his desk chair Hannibal reached up to cover her hands with his own. “What you’re really asking me is, can I read people. That’s what it comes down to, babe. If he’s the man I think he is, it will work.”

  “I should just go with you,” she said, bending to speak into his ear. “Things may not go as planned.”

  “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go with me,” Hannibal said. “When the time comes, I’ll need my officer-of-the-court type witness in a safe, neutral corner.”

  A solid knock on Hannibal’s office door interrupted her. Orson Rissik called, “Are we going to do this or not?”

  The Lucent was hopping when Hannibal arrived. The music was louder than it was on his previous visit, and nearly twice as many people packed the tables. He thought the lights were lower but it could have been the effect of the deeper crowd. The bar was three deep and the girls slipped through the crowd like quick, slender fish to serve the tables. He stood at the door for a moment, taking in the atmosphere and tapping his foot to the go-go beat that was driving the dancers’ hips around their poles. Then one of the curvy servers, a tall brunette, spotted him and rerouted her path to cruise past the door.

  “Good evening, Tahnee,” Hannibal said. “Nice to see you again.”

  Her face reflected surprise that he remembered her name. Tahnee winked and smiled, but kept moving. “Table twelve. Front left.”

  She moved on across the floor with Hannibal barely able to keep her in sight. He managed to avoid bumping into anyone despite the fact that most of the men on their feet were watching the stage, not where they were going. When he came within sight of his target he slowed and let Tahnee continue on her rounds. He took a couple of deep breaths, watching his quarry sip cognac.

  Show time.

  Hannibal walked past the table, spun, and dropped into the chair facing Kevin Larson.

  “What’s up, Kevin?”

  Kevin was dressed for Saturday night: inexpensive but well-fitted chocolate suit and alligator shoes. His eyes stayed on the show over Hannibal’s shoulder for a second before he recognized that he had company.”

  “Mister Jones. How you doing this evening? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I’ve been here once or twice before,” Hannibal said. He wondered where his wife thought he was. “This a regular stop for you?”

  “Time to time,” Kevin said, sipping his drink. Hannibal knew he had been invited there this particular night to meet someone.

  “I do like this place,” Hannibal said, “but tonight I’m not here to watch the girls work the pole. I’m here to see you.”

  Kevin blinked and Hannibal caught a glimpse of a cleverness he had not noticed in those eyes before. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I don’t get it. Why would you come looking for me?”

  “I wanted to talk a little more about Wash and his poor wife. About how they came to be dead.”

  “Uh-huh. How’d you find me, anyway?”

  Hannibal shrugged. “I’m a detective.”

  “Yeah, you said. And I guess you must be pretty good at it.” Kevin looked around himself as if he imagined spies in every corner. Hannibal leaned in a little closer.

  “Damn straight, bud. But it don’t pay as good as you might think. That’s why I want to talk to you about the whole Wash thing.”

  Kevin put the edges of his hands on the table in the universal sign for openness. “Look, I’m a simple man. You’re going to have to be a lot clearer than that.”

  “I will,” Hannibal said, standing. “But not here. At least
not out here in the open.”

  “Well I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Chill, man,” Hannibal said. “I’ve got a deal here with the management.” Hannibal raised his hand and gave a small wave. In seconds Tahnee was beside the table. Hannibal waved her closer, handed her a wad of bills and spoke in low tones.

  “I need a room with some privacy,” he said. “No girls, just a space for a little meeting.”

  Tahnee nodded, thought for a second, and waved to Hannibal to follow her. As she walked away, Hannibal stood and motioned with his head for Kevin to join them.

  “And why should I go anywhere with you?” Kevin asked, leaning back.

  Hannibal rested both palms on the table and leaned in. “Because, trust me, your life will turn to shit if you don’t.” Then he turned and walked toward the stage, keeping Tahnee’s shapely behind in sight. At the very front of the room he turned left and looked back. Kevin was following at a discreet distance, looking puzzled and trying hard to hide his still significant limp.

  Tahnee led them through a door and down a short hall. She stopped at a door and produced a key from someplace and unlocked it. Then she continued down the hall. Hannibal stepped into the room and left the door standing open. Kevin followed, closing the door behind himself.

  The space was plain with dull gray walls and a wooden floor. Four comfortable looking chairs faced each other with plenty of space between them and a small table beside each one. Lighting was dim, but not so low one could overlook the four-poster bed at the far end. It wasn’t quite a separate room, but partial walls a couple of feet wide on either side gave the bed its own little alcove. Close-set strings of beads hung to the floor across the wide central opening. Hannibal guessed this was the place for very private lap dances with an option for more. He settled into a chair. The table beside it held a bottle of Hennessy and a pair of glasses.

  “I observed that you are a cognac man, right?”

  Kevin stayed by the door. “All right, I’m here. So what’s this all about?”