I thought about the parade of people that have attempted to kill me over the past year. An ax murderer, a knife-wielding crack addict, an incestuous obstetrician, and a freckle-faced pimp that looked like Howdy Doody. Not to mention Mario and his gang of merry men. It was getting old.
I picked up the Smith & Wesson and turned to the clerk. “How much?”
*****
On the way back from Caperelli’s we stopped off at a children’s store to get some things for Chrissy. “It’s important that we stimulate her intellectually,” Fran told me. “I don’t want her to get bored.”
“Fran, she’s a month old. Her idea of a good time is eating her feet. Ooh, look, a slinky!”
I picked out a stuffed pink hippo for my goddaughter and a pair of booties in the shape of cupcakes. Then, I wandered over to the older kids’ section. A black and white hobby horse was stationed at the end of an aisle. A little boy, about two years old was strapped into the plastic saddle, and he was rocking back and forth. A woman stood next to him, her cart filled to the brim with toddler toys.
My thoughts wandered back to Sherese’s little boy, riding the back of the filthy couch that was parked in front of their house. On impulse, I walked over and checked the price on the hobby horse. It was way too extravagant a purchase for someone recently unemployed. I picked up the box and tossed it into my cart.
One Easy Bake Oven, one Baby Einstein, three board games and six classic children’s books later my cart was filled to overflowing as well. I got to the checkout counter and whipped out my credit card. I’d worry about how I’d pay it off later. It would give me something to do when I was living out of my car.
“What’s all this?” Fran came up behind me and began unloading her cart.
“I got a few things for Marios’ kids. They have nothing, Fran. And don’t say it. I know it won’t change their lives. It’s just something I wanted to do, okay?”
“Did I say anything? Here.” She lifted a large box of diapers off a rack behind her and plunked them down with the rest of her purchases. “You said she had a two-year old, right? These should fit.”
I cut her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
She shrugged it off, embarrassed. Fran is mush, pure and simple. But if you tried to acknowledge it in any way, she’d kill you where you stand.
Vince called as we were loading her car up with our packages.
“I checked out your lead on the burn victim,” he told me. “You were right, per usual. He was a part time guard at the hospital. You ever get tired of being right?”
“I’ll get back to you on that. What was his name?”
“Calvin Doyle.”
It was all falling into place. They must’ve met at the hospital when Donte was working for the ambulance company. They got to talking, discovered their mutual love of blood sports and turned to dog fighting for fun and profit. But something must’ve gone horribly wrong after the last dog fight, and Donte decided to terminate the partnership. Permanently.
I shared my theory with Vince as I shoved the rest of my purchases into the trunk and slammed it shut.
“Beats me, kiddo. But the sooner we locate Lewis the sooner we can put all this to rest. Speaking of which, finding the motherfucker that shot at you and DiCarlo is our number one priority.”
I hoped so. Because I hated to see what would happen if Nick found him first.
*****
Fran dropped me off in front of Nick’s building. “Do you need help carrying everything up?”
“Nah. My car is parked across the street. I can just transfer it into the trunk.”
“Oh. Okay.” She seemed disappointed.
“Uh, Fran, would you like to come upstairs for a while? I’m sure Nick wouldn’t mind.” Actually, I had no idea if he’d mind. But she seemed to really want to.
She shot me a wistful look, a rarity for Fran. “Could I? We won’t stay long. It would just be nice to sit on a couch that doesn’t smell like baby vomit.”
I used the key Nick gave me to unlock his front door. It was cool and dark in the apartment, with a hint of spice in the air. Nutmeg.
Adrian and the puppy were sacked out near the bay window. Adrian swished his tail in a half-hearted wag and closed his eyes.
“Wow.” Fran said, taking in the high beam ceilings and wall to wall book shelves. “This is…nice.”
A door opened down the hall and Nick emerged from his bedroom. He was freshly showered, his hair hanging in damp clusters around his shoulders. Faded blue jeans clung to his muscled legs. He was wearing a dark blue work shirt, unbuttoned all the way, exposing the most recent scar on his chest.
Fran’s mouth formed a perfect, silent O, followed by an equally quiet, but just as emphatic “My God.”
Nick buttoned his shirt and walked over to me and kissed me hello. I could taste mint tooth paste on his breath. He turned to Fran and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Franny.” Nick’s eyes settled on my goddaughter. “Hello, Christina Brandy. You are beautiful.”
Surprise registered on Fran’s face, and I could see Nick’s stock skyrocket. He’d remembered her baby’s name. And he called her beautiful.
“I took the dogs for a run,” he informed me, “and everyone’s been fed. I’ve got some business in West Philly, and then I’m meeting Sal at Mic’s House of Billiards. “You’re both welcome to join us.”
I appreciated the invitation, but I was determined not to cramp his style. And anyway, I had some plans of my own.
Nick finished getting dressed and walked with Franny to the elevator. He was holding baby Chrissy in his arms. In that moment, he never looked sexier.
I closed the apartment door and picked up my phone to make a call.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s Brandy. I was hoping you’d keep me company tonight.”
Chapter Twelve
“Depends on what you got in mind, Sweetcakes.”
I could hear the laughter in Alphonso’s voice and thought back to a year ago, when he was commissioned by Nick to baby sit me. We’d come a long way since that first meeting. Alphonso is my companion of choice when I need brawn and brains to watch my back. Plus, he’s got a really cool Hummer. And while I do feel a bit guilty about the sheer excess of it all, it’s a nice change of pace from the granny mobile I usually drive around in.
“Relax, Jackson. It’s nothing illegal or life threatening.”
“Man, where’s the fun in that?”
“Okay, it could be a little life threatening,” I confessed, remembering the day Mario’s girlfriend introduced her fist to my face. “Does that sweeten the pot at all?”
“I’m gonna need some details.”
Two hours later, under cover of darkness, Alphonso pulled his Hummer up to the curb directly in front of Mario Lewis’ house. The scant light of the moon did nothing to enhance the atmosphere there. I glanced across the street to the Kings’ home. Their neatly manicured lawn and cheerful painted exterior reminded me that hope was not completely forsaken in this part of town.
Alphonso cut the engine and hopped out of the car. I hesitated briefly and then followed suit. Sherese’s old couch still occupied its place on the sidewalk, joined now by a disgustingly gross looking double mattress. Both were rain soaked victims of the last big storm. The air reeked of mildew.
“I can handle this,” Alphonso offered. “Why don’t you stay in the car?”
“It’ll be faster if we both go.”
The house was dark. According to Roger, Sherese spent most of her time lying around in the living room in a drug-induced haze. We’d do what we’d come to do and leave. What could go wrong?
Alphonso bent over the trunk and began unloading its contents. I could see the top of his Glock tucked discreetly into the waistband of his pants. It was an abrupt reminder of exactly what could go wrong.
He grabbed the largest box and set it down on the curb and piled the rest of the toys on top. Lifting them chest high he started walking up the path. His biceps bulged
under the weight. I took a moment to admire them, and then I grabbed the box of diapers with my one good arm and dragged it across the lawn.
We arranged the boxes on the front porch, carefully tucking them behind the posts, so that they wouldn’t be visible from the street. The house remained shrouded in silence. No crying babies, no television blaring from inside. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Which made the sound of a shrill female voice, within spitting distance of our heads, that much more startling.
“You trespassing, mutha fuckers. You move and I’ll bash your fucking heads in.”
Crap. A quick glance told me Sherese had materialized from the side gate. It had been closed up tight when we’d arrived. Now, it swung open just wide enough for her to slip on though. She moved unsteadily toward us wielding a metal baseball bat.
I dropped the diapers to the ground and flattened my back against the house, in order to get out of Alphonso’s way, in case he felt inclined to save me. Apparently, he didn’t see any urgency in the situation. He just stood back, arms crossed, and let me take the lead. So I did.
“Hi, Sherese. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Brandy. We met awhile back.” My tone was casual, social, even. We could have been two neighborhood acquaintances who happened to run into each other at the grocery store, having chatted previously at a party.
Alphonso cast me a withered frown that said, “What the hell are you bringing that up for?” But I’d already gotten her attention.
She squinched up her eyes and struggled for the second time in as many weeks to place me.
“It wasn’t under the best of circumstances,” I admitted, having inexplicably chosen that moment to become scrupulously honest.
The reminder did the trick, and suddenly the bat was headed my way. Alphonso casually reached out and ripped it out of her grip, only inches from my face. He tossed it onto the porch and grinned.
“Took you long enough,” I muttered.
Sherese lunged for her weapon, but Alphonso was quicker. He caught her by the waist and yanked her off the step. In return, she spit and clawed at his face, just missing his eye. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek.
“God damn it.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.
“Sherese,” I broke in. “We’re not here to hurt you, so knock it off. I just wanted to bring your kids some toys. That’s all.”
She stopped squirming and craned her neck beyond Alphonso’s massive arms to the stack of boxes on the porch.
“Why’d you bring this shit?” She thrust her chin out, defiant, yet curious. “I can take care of my kids just fine. We don’t need your charity.”
“We could all use a little charity, every once in a while. Look,” I said, my voice softening, “I know you blame me for Mario’s death. And I know his being gone must cause you a lot of pain.”
Her face contorted into a heartbreaking expression of grief and vulnerability. “You don’t know nothin’,” she screamed, and yet there was no heat to her words now.
Alphonso let her go, and she slumped down on the steps. She wrapped her arms around her bare knees, and I watched in silence as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You don’t know nothin’,” she repeated, more to herself than for my benefit. And suddenly it hit me. Sherese was grieving, all right. Only not for Mario.
Alphonso and I exchanged awkward glances. “Well,” he said, taking charge. “We’ve got to be going.”
“Sherese,” I offered. “Would you like some help taking these things into the house?” I wish I could say I was driven by compassion, but the truth was I had to pee.
Ignoring me, she lifted her head and wiped the snot from her nose with the corner of her sleeve. Then she hoisted herself up by the crumbling wood railing and walked into the house. Alphonso shrugged and gathered up the presents. I took the diapers and followed him in.
There was a table lamp near the door, and I switched it on, illuminating the small interior. Fast food wrappers littered the living room rug. A pile of unwashed clothes sat in a corner, smelling of sour milk. A beat up, old fan hung precariously from the window. Someone had jammed a crayon into the ancient, rusted blades.
Sherese pointed in the direction of the bathroom and flopped down on the couch. A half-eaten bologna sandwich and a scoopful of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese sat on a plate on the coffee table in front of her. The cheese had long since congealed, turning it a crusty brown.
She lit a cigarette and leaned back, staring into space. Alphonso stood at the doorway and pulled his phone from his pocket. He raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed something. It looked like “Hurry up.”
I walked toward the bathroom and nearly tripped over the toddler. He was asleep on the floor in the hallway, sprawled on his back. A tiny bit of baby drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth. I peeked around the corner and spied his sister, curled up on a an unmade mattress in a small, airless bedroom. They deserved better. Then again, so did their mom.
When I got back to the living room, Alphonso was on his hands and knees. He’d taken a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and was now putting together the hobby horse. I had a thought that made me smile, but if I verbalized it, he’d probably kill me. Alphonso would make a great dad.
There was nowhere to sit but the sofa, so I pushed aside a fat, paper bound manual to make room for myself. I glanced at the cover. It was a GED prep book. Was Sherese studying for her high school diploma?
I was about to ask her, when her eyes filled up again. She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. “He didn’t deserve to die. Not like that,” she stated, flatly.
“I’m sorry about Mario,” I said, just to be polite. The truth is I wasn’t one bit sorry. Mario was a festering sore on the universe, and Sherese and the kids were better off without him.
Sherese’s head shot up. “You think I’m crying over that asshole?” She snorted, as if she simply couldn’t believe how naive I was. “That man was too dumb to live. He made my life miserable. If Donte hadn’t of killed him I would’ve.”
“Then who—” I let the question hang in the air, as something else caught my attention. The GED book had fallen open onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and saw two words written on the inside flap. Calvin Doyle.
Holy cow. Sherese and Calvin Doyle? Man, I so did not see that coming.
Sherese took the book from me and rubbed her finger lightly over his name. She spoke without anger. Only a deep sadness. “Cal thought I was smart. Smart enough to get my high school diploma. Maybe even go to college. Sometimes he’d come around when Mario wasn’t here and we’d just talk. He was nice to me and the kids.”
Alphonso finished putting together the hobby horse and stood back to look at his handiwork. The newness of it looked incongruous in the dingy apartment. “Okay, that’s all done. Well…”
He gave me the eye and cocked his head toward the front door, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Not when things were just getting interesting. I shook my head in response. He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. “I’ll be outside.”
The screen door closed behind him, and I turned back to Sherese. Maybe I shouldn’t have pried, but she really seemed to want to talk. Either that or I was just being nosy. “Did you meet Cal through Donte?”
Sherese nodded. “Donte. What a worthless piece of shit. He met Cal when he worked for the ambulance company. One day they came over to talk to Mario. They had some business they wanted to do. That was before Mario started using so heavy. But even then, he was never too bright. Donte could talk him into doing any fool thing. You know what I’m talkin’ about?”
Having checked out the photos on Donte’s Facebook page, I knew exactly what she was talkin’ about. “Was Cal the one in charge of the dog fighting business?” Maybe I’d feel better about the way he’d died if I could blame him for something truly despicable.
Sherese stubbed out her cigarette in the middle of the corroded Mac n’ Cheese. “Hell, no. Cal wasn’t into that shit. He w
as always gettin’ on Donte and Mario to stop. He didn’t think it was right what they did to them dogs and didn’t want nothin’ to do with it. He even give my kids a puppy. It was a real sweet little thing. Had a heart on its butt. My daughter called him Lovey. Dumbass name if you ask me, but she insisted.”
I looked around. “Where’s Lovey now?”
Sherese lit another cigarette. “Dead, probably. One night Donte and Cal got mad at Mario for getting’ high all the time and fucking up their business. They beat him senseless and then took the dogs away. Mario got so desperate for drug money he took the puppy and set him in the trunk of his car, figuring he’d make a few bucks by trunking. That’s what he was doin’ the day you shot him.”
I was so caught up in Sherese’s story it took me a full minute to connect the dots. Popeye was her family pet. It served no purpose to mention his fate. Instead I asked, “Sherese, you said Cal wasn’t involved in dog fighting. But now you say he was mad that Mario was fucking up their business.”
“They was in another business together. And before you ask me, I don’t know nothin’ bout it. All I do know is it was some big damn secret that was supposed to make them rich. Cal promised to take me on a cruise when the money started coming in.”
She paused for a moment. Then, “Cal and Donte hated that Mario was high all the time. I heard them talking one night when they thought I was asleep in the bedroom. Cal said he was sorry he’d ever got started with Mario. And if the boss found out, they’d all be dead.”
And now they all were. Or pretty near. “Sherese,” I said, as an idea worked its way through my brain, “The police believe Donte killed Cal. Do you?”
“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t put it past him.” She stared down at the food encrusted dishes, lost in thought.
After a full minute of silence I figured I’d outstayed my welcome. “Well, I guess I should be going, now.” I started for the door, but she called me back. Her voice, devoid of rancor, was surprisingly soft and girlish.
“About them toys you got my kids? It was nice and all. But you didn’t have to do that.”
No Such Thing as a Lost Cause Page 16
