The Best Possible Angle

by Lloyd Johnson

  Kendrick’s smile dimmed. “You don’t think they’ll renege, do you?”

  “Nope. Kevin’s movies usually do well at the box office, so they aren’t taking a huge risk. Trust me, they’ll make their money back. And then, I’ll get my return from my investment.”

  Kendrick dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. All the hard work had finally paid off. He was now playing in the big leagues.

  “And you thought I wouldn’t deliver.”

  “There was never a doubt in my mind. I knew you’d work your magic.” He rose from the floor and pulled Brenda close. He kissed her tenderly. “How are we doing with time?” he asked.

  Brenda looked at her watch. “We’re good. Why?”

  “Because I was thinking about taking you in the bedroom and putting it on you. When’s the flight?”

  “At one. By the way, I got some good news for myself. I finally was able to schedule a meeting with a potential new client I’ve been after.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Devon Thomas. Know him?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “I’m meeting with him tonight.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’ll be in there in a minute,” she said, finishing the packing of her makeup.

  Kendrick went over to plug in his phone to the charger, passing a mirror. He froze, not recognizing the man staring back at him. He was just about to sleep with the woman who had threatened to do harm to his mother.

  She said she didn’t mean it, he thought as he pulled the black cashmere turtleneck over his head. He caught his reflection again. How can I sex her when earlier I wanted to break her damn neck? Kendrick closed his eyes, and imagined signing contracts, and the number of zeros added to his bank account. “Guess I got more Hollywood in me than I thought,” he muttered.

  The intercom erupted with loud incessant chirps. Kendrick put his shirt back on and ran to answer before the intercom chirped again.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Mr. Black, there’s a couple of detectives on the way up to speak to you,” the doorman said.

  A pounding in his chest was instantaneous. He walked toward the elevator doors as though he were being led to the gallows.

  When the doors opened, Detectives VanDrunen and Ramirez emerged. Like every other time Kendrick saw them, both wore serious expressions.

  “Mr. Black?” Ramirez said.

  “Yes?”

  “We’d like you to know that we found the person responsible for the death of your sister. It was Ashley Hunter.”

  Kendrick’s face relaxed. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. We have a full confession.”

  “Revenge?”

  “More or less,” VanDrunen said, noticing the luggage propped against the wall. “Someone going somewhere?”

  “Yes, we’re heading back to California this afternoon,” Brenda said, entering the room.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Black won’t be going anywhere with you.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Kendrick said.

  “Sir, we’re going to need you to come down to the station with us,” Ramirez said.

  “For what?”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions regarding your involvement in the vehicular homicide of Kayla Jones.”

  “This is outrageous! The only involvement my client has with Kayla Jones is forking over $2,000,000 to the family so they can get on with their lives the best way they can,” Brenda said.

  VanDrunen turned to Brenda. “Are you his attorney?”

  “No, his publicist and agent.”

  “Then, Miss…”

  “Vaughn.”

  “Miss Vaughn, if you have no legal reason to speak on his behalf, I suggest you stay out of this.”

  “Absolutely not! My client will not be speaking with you until he’s conferred with an attorney first.”

  Both detectives looked at Kendrick, who averted his eyes.

  “You saying he’s guilty?” Ramirez asked.

  Choosing her words carefully, Brenda said, “Uh, no. I’m just thinking about the optics of the situation. We wouldn’t want tabloids running stories that aren’t based in fact. How do I know someone down at your precinct won’t leak lies to the press?”

  “With all due respect, Miss Vaughn, if he was so concerned with his image, he should’ve went to the police immediately following the accident. Look, we have it on good authority that he was involved. In fact, the informant was more than happy to blow the whistle on him.”

  “It would be nice if everyone stopped talking about me as though I ain’t even here!” Kendrick said.

  “You don’t have to say anything to them,” Brenda said.

  Kendrick turned to face Brenda. He saw fear in her eyes. “I’m going to go with them. I’ll get back to L.A. on my own.”

  He tried putting forth a calm demeanor in hopes that she would not find the likelihood of that to be nonexistent.

  “Okay, fine. I’m still going to contact your lawyer.”

  There was a peace that settled on Kendrick’s face that she took as him accepting his fate. The last thing she saw him do was put on his heavy coat before following the detectives into the waiting elevator. His back remained to her as the doors closed.

  The tears were immediate, though Brenda had no idea what she was crying for. Was it the loss of her investment? Or was it that this delectable man had made her feel beautiful again, if only fleetingly? She doubted she would get another chance at happiness with such a premium specimen.

  Brenda called her driver to tell him to come earlier. No sense in waiting around a place that now felt as though she were trespassing. As she went throughout the apartment to make sure she had everything, she heard the distant ringing of a phone coming from where Kendrick had plugged it to charge it. Its screen was lit up, showing the number of the incoming call. She pulled the phone from its charger and answered it.

  “This is Kendrick Black’s phone.”

  There was a long pause, with activity going on in the background.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “May I please speak to Kenny?” a panicked voice asked.

  “Who the hell is this?” Brenda asked. Insecurities of not being good enough resurfaced.

  “This is Tammy. And who is this?”

  “This is Mr. Black’s publicist. What do you need, Tammy?”

  “I need to talk to Kenny.”

  “Kendrick is unavailable right now.”

  “Well, can you please tell him to call me back? I need help.” The woman’s fear seemed genuine.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I think Sabathany is gonna try to kill me.”

  “Are you two still in San Diego?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I just know. Are you?”

  The line went dead.

  Brenda stared into the phone after the call ended.

  “I see the bitch made good on her threat,” she said to herself. “This is all Sabathany’s fault. Now I’m out a whole lotta money thanks to her!”

  Taking Kendrick’s phone with her, she went back to the living room and put the phone in her purse. She reached in further and pulled out her own phone. Scrolling her contacts, she came to the number she was looking for, and dialed.

  “Hey, Blu! Been a long time, Baby. Say, is that friend of yours still out in San Diego? He is? Good. I’ve got a little situation.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  From the moment Kendrick left his apartment with the detectives, he had every intention of coming clean. The Jones family came to mind, and how relieved they would be to know he was in custody. He hoped they would receive solace from that. He would finally enjoy sleep uninterrupted by a decomposing phantom-child. However, by the time he arrived at the police station, something changed. He remembered the great news Brenda had shared, and all that awaited him in L.A
.

  When he was brought into the interrogation room, he decided to stand mute. The detectives were tickled.

  “Do you know what I like most about my job?” VanDrunen asked.

  Kendrick sat across from his captors, arms folded.

  “I like that sometimes, not often, a miracle happens where I get to kill two birds with one stone. Basically, solve two disparate cases at once.”

  VanDrunen searched Kendrick’s otherwise expressionless face for any sign of emotion. His experience told him it was there, but he would need to dig a little deeper for it. He gave Ramirez a look, prompting her to slide a manila folder in front of Kendrick.

  “Open it,” she said.

  Kendrick looked down at it, but was otherwise still.

  She flipped open the folder, and took out four large photographs taken at the accident site. Each photo was of Kayla’s corpse. She laid them out, side by side. “Look at them,” she demanded.

  Kendrick peered at the photos. Kayla looked unlike what he thought she would. She was lying on her back, head turned to the side. There was no twisted, bloodied heap of flesh lying in the street. There was blood and a vacant stare, the only two things that resembled what appeared in his mind’s eye. He took comfort that her body had not been broken horribly, considering the damage to the front of the Escalade.

  “Everyone in this room knows you did this,” Ramirez said, pulling the reports from the folder. “We know, because Lenox was willing to give you up to save himself.”

  Kendrick’s face showed mild surprise. “Wow,” he said.

  “See, he begged us to cut him a deal, especially now that he’s all his kids have now. Funny how he didn’t give a shit about this kid right here,” VanDrunen said, tapping the photo closest to himself. “Minimally he’s looking at possible obstruction with aiding and abetting, so he was more than willing to throw you under the bus. Little does he know there’s not gonna be any deal. For him…or you.”

  Kendrick began to breathe hard. His eyes became moist.

  “We know Lenox Hunter was the first person you contacted after the accident. We know you ultimately gave him the okay to junk the vehicle for $10,000,” Ramirez said.

  “Yeah, but the funny thing is,” VanDrunen said with a chuckle. “You wasted your money. They never junked it!”

  “What do you mean they never junked it?”

  “Just what I said. In fact, they fixed the Escalade and had plans to illegally sell it. So not only did they pocket your ten grand, but had we not gotten to them first, they stood to gain a profit from an illegal sale of a vehicle that was used during the commission of a crime. You really shouldn’t feel bad,” VanDrunen said with a cool smirk, “You’re not the only one getting nailed for this.”

  Kendrick again looked at the photos, finding it easier to look at the deceased than at the detectives who were taking pleasure in bringing him down.

  The thought of his two homes sitting uninhabited materialized in his mind. He also envisioned the contract to star in a Kevin Hart film going up in flames. But he was okay with it. He had to be. He thought of Yvette, who looked so emaciated and detached. He thought of his sister, and how he still thought her murder was God’s punishment stretched over an entire family. Tears fell onto one of the photos.

  “I wanted to come forward so many times, but people kept telling me the money would cover everything. After a while, I started to believe them.”

  Ramirez frowned. “Nobody here feels bad for you. The only reason you’re crying is because you got caught. Pure and simple. How do you even sleep at night knowing what you did?”

  Kendrick glared at her, taking the detective by surprise. “How in the hell do you know I sleep at all? This isn’t who I am. I wanted out of that Hollywood life where everybody is in it for themselves. I kept telling myself that somehow I wasn’t like those people, when all along I was just as bad. Right before you guys came to get me, I was about to make love to a woman who the day before had threatened to bring harm to my mother.” Kendrick shook his head. “I ain’t no better than any of them.”

  “What woman?”

  Brenda’s face came to Kendrick’s mind. He imagined her chartered jet ascending into the skies as he sat in the police station. “Nobody important.”

  As Det. VanDrunen read him his rights, Kendrick barely heard a word said to him. Closing his eyes, he could hear Kayla’s effervescent laughter. Although he never did as she had asked him by turning himself in, the police got him anyway. He wondered whether she forgave him despite that. Then, he doubted it.

  FORTY-SIX

  It was late afternoon. Sabathany spent much of the day by the hotel pool, sipping La Jolla Breezes, wondering what to do about a situation named Tammy?

  She watched Tammy sit at the outdoor bar, inebriated, and making ugly, drunk faces. Sabathany knew Tammy well. The only times she had seen Tammy drink to this extent was when she was bothered about something. In this case, it was the guilt she felt for double-crossing her friend.

  After dinner the previous evening, Tammy spent all night trying to make amends for what she did. It was guilt keeping her in San Diego long after she knew she had served her usefulness. However, despite Sabathany’s sudden change of heart, she still did not trust Sabathany’s intentions, fearing there would be a hit out on her once she returned to Los Angeles. After an unsuccessful call to Kendrick for help, Tammy thought it safer to stick close to Sabathany’s side until she knew how safe she was.

  Sabathany continued sipping her drink, observing Tammy’s pitiful attempts at flirtation with three men at the bar. One of the men made it clear from his brooding and constant watch checking that he was not interested. Unfazed, Tammy set her sights on the two men sitting to her right. They were businessmen using their last day in San Diego to catch sun and sex. The men had enough booze floating in their systems to be open to any sexual adventure presented.

  Sabathany continued watching what she viewed as Tammy’s buffoonery. It was a shame they had arrived at this place of distrust. Tammy had always been such a loyal, hardworking underling of a friend. However, those qualities went out the window when she aligned herself with Kendrick, purporting to be on Sabathany’s side. Not to mention the moment in South Dakota that changed everything—receiving confirmation that Sabathany brought about her own mother’s demise. That confession could go no further. As Sabathany watched a woman who had no idea this day was to be her last, one question orbited her brain. How was she going to kill Tammy? Her attention shifted toward the height of the hotel just beyond the verdant trees and brush. That’s when the possibility dawned on her of an intoxicated Tammy having an accident over the ledge of the hotel room balcony.

  “Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” Sabathany said, approaching Tammy. She made sure to speak loud enough for the businessmen to hear.

  “I’m trying to enjoy myself. Why? What are you doing?” Tammy responded in the same insolent tone that had been like nails down a chalk board to Sabathany.

  “I think you’d better slow down. You’re getting sloppy. You could hurt yourself.”

  “And I think you’d better stop killing my action with these sexy men!”

  Sabathany glared. She would enjoy watching Tammy’s body plummet to the ground, hearing it splatter like ground meat upon the pavement.

  Tammy caught something in Sabathany’s visage that said she crossed the line. Her own sloppy hostility turned into contrition as quickly as a once crying baby began to laugh. She sat back in her stool, her body seemed to deflate. Tammy squinted to pull her double vision into a singular image. Bad news for her in that it meant she would soon be sick.

  “Let me stop. I’m sorry,” she said, fighting with her tongue to formulate words without slurring them.

  Sabathany noticed the standoffish man at the end of the bar was watching them, paying closest attention to her. He looked suddenly captivated. She relaxed her face and calmed her tone. “You know what? You’ll have plenty of time to sleep that off. Stay
awhile and have your fun.”

  “Nah, I need to go upstairs,” Tammy said, almost losing her footing as she stood up. With a determined look on her face, she turned to face the path which led back to the hotel.

  “Aren’t you going to help her?” one of the businessmen asked.

  “I know, right? Some friend,” the other cracked.

  “Listen, don’t let her appearance fool you. She’s tough,” Sabathany said, not really caring what those fools thought. She was buying herself a little time. Better to have witnesses confirm that Tammy had been inebriated and had wandered off alone. These same witnesses could also vouch for the fact that she remained at the bar, and later she would be sure to pop her head inside the gift shop. It was a perfect timeline to forge an alibi.

  “She’s only going upstairs. She’ll be fine.” Sabathany said assuredly, finishing the last of her drink. “Bartender, may I have another, please?” After she received her drink, she turned seductively in the direction of the handsome man who caught her eye, but he was gone.

  The moment Tammy set foot back inside the hotel, she knew she would not make it upstairs to the room. She made a dash into the public toilet, falling into an open stall. When she opened her mouth, a stream of chunky vomit splashed into the toilet. She hugged the toilet, for odd comfort, unconcerned how dirty it was. Her eyes watered from the sudden lurch forward; her stomach tightened. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and looked directly at the motion sensor on the toilet. She could see with some clarity, though the sickened feeling remained close.

  “You okay in there?” a woman called to Tammy from outside the stall. “Want me to call somebody?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Tammy heard the restroom door swing open and hit the wall, followed by heavy footsteps.

  “Uh, yeah. I’ll be going,” the woman said before scampering off.

  The toilet flushed as soon as Tammy stood up. She tucked her shirt into her pants, then opened the stall door. A man stood on the other side, glaring and waiting. She recognized him as the one from the bar, sitting off by himself. His massive hand found its place around her neck, stifling her ability to cry out. He pushed her back into the stall and slammed shut the door. With a broad sweeping motion, he swung her around, backing her against the door. Tammy caught the gleam of a knife through her peripheral view.