The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  Her smile told him that she was happy with herself.

  Nicola couldn’t blink. He stared at her in disbelief. PREGNANT.

  Walking over to the cabinet in the corner where their medicines were housed, she pulled out a small gift box and brought it over to him. “You weren’t the only one keeping a secret. I wanted to wait until our anniversary to tell you but with everything going on, I felt it best just to put it out there.”

  Nicola opened the box to find an EPT test. His long fingers grasped the white handle of the test as he stared. It was positive. He swallowed hard and looked down at his wife. “How long…how far along are you?” He was truly lost for words.

  “Seven weeks,” she said with a small smile. Leaning into him, she smirked. “This is the part where you jump for joy or commit suicide.”

  “Commit suicide? Why?” Nicola reached down and picked her up in her arms. Swinging her around, he screamed out. “That’s why you’ve been so crazy! You’re knocked up again! Damn, I hope it’s a girl, baby.”

  Ivy laughed and then caught herself. “Wait. What do you mean I’ve been acting crazy?”

  Nicola set her down and kissed her forehead. “I mean rabid ass, strait-jacket crazy.” He kissed her again.

  “I want a girl, too,” she said quickly. “And this is our last one. I want my tubes tied.” She pointed at him like this was all his fault.

  “Why?” Nicola asked sarcastically.

  “Because my vagina can’t take one more of your Agosto seeds,” she laughed. “And I think we have enough now. We won’t be able to fit them all at the table soon.”

  Nicola looked over at his sons. “A table full of Agosto’s,” he joked. “Damn, baby. I’m so happy. I mean…” he was lost for words. “This is amazing. You know, we said we wanted a big family when we got married and now look. We’re at number five in six years.”

  “It’s cult like,” Ivy said under her breath.

  “Who knows already? I know that you told someone. You can’t hold water. Man…we have to celebrate,” he said, rubbing through her hair affectionately.

  “I figured that you should be the first to know,” she said, walking over to the children. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “Not even Trina?” Nicola asked of her best friend and sister-in-law.

  “No one,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “Not a soul. And I talked to Trina just today. She called and we spent about an hour on the phone talking about the kids, Emerald and Brooks.”

  He really wished that his dead friend was here to celebrate with them, but he quickly pushed the painful thought out of his head. “I’m breaking out a bottle of the good shit, and after dinner I’m going to give you a big girl massage with that thing I bought you for your anniversary and then we’re going to….”

  “Daddy, you cursed,” Adam said with a frown.

  Nicola winked at his son. “What did I say?” he asked sarcastically.

  “You said shit,” Michael answered as clear as a bell while he dug in his nose.

  “Michael Agosto!” Ivy admonished, narrowing her eyes on her son. “You do not use that language in this house. I don’t care what your father says.”

  “Aww, let the boy say shit. It should be his favorite word from the look of his underwear. He uses his draws like tissue paper,” Nicola said, going back to the stove to fix their plates.

  “You are not helping,” Ivy said, trying to repress a laugh.

  Just then the doorbell rang. The echo of it clanged through the house like the sound of broken glass.

  Ivy turned around and looked towards the doorway.

  “I’ll get it,” Nicola said, putting down the plate.

  “Who could that be at this hour?” she asked, looking at her watch. It was nearly nine.

  “Don’t know. That’s why I’ll get it,” Nicola said, walking out of the kitchen.

  As Nicola peered out of the front door peep, he cursed. “Fuck,” he said, opening the door.

  Johnson smiled. “Hello to you, too, beautiful. Can I come inside?” He leaned against the door opening.

  Nicola stepped back and opened the door wider. “Sure.” Closing the door behind them, he pulled his department cell phone from his pant’s pocket and frowned. “I didn’t get a call. Is there another body?” His chest constricted.

  “You could say that,” Johnson said, looking around the large house. “Damn, is your wife rich or something?”

  “No, we both work for a living,” Nicola said, trying to get his attention. “So why are you here and how did you find me?”

  “I got your info from Cory at the office,” Johnson said, shaking his head. He looked back at Nicola. “Somebody somewhere has to be rich in order for you to afford this, man. We don’t get paid nearly enough to…”

  “Johnson, please just fucking concentrate,” Nicola said, snapping his fingers. “Why are you here, man? Is this a social visit? You having problems?”

  “Homicide just found Twist’s body inside of a car, blown to shit downtown. I wanted to get down there to check it out before it was completely processed.”

  “Twist is dead,” Nicola repeated, rolling his eyes. He let out a sigh. “Fuck!” Wiping his face, he grabbed his boots from the corner and sat down on the bench to put them on. “This is not coming at a good time. I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for my babies; my wife…”

  Ivy came around the corner, looking curiously at the man who stood in her doorway. She wiped her fingers on the kitchen towel clutched in her hand and spied Nicola putting on his shoes.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” she asked. “Where are you going?” Her frown was unmistakable.

  Nicola stood up and walked over to her. “Baby, I’m sorry. I gotta go.”

  “You just got home,” she growled. “And what about the news I just gave you?”

  He held her slender shoulders in his hands. “I know. It’s fucked up. I know, but I promise not to be too long. I’ve gotta go. I think I just lost my only lead in this case.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes.

  Johnson looked over at them with shock and awe in his eyes. Agosto had a black wife…a fine black wife. Who would have ever thought it? He always pegged him as being married to a small, blonde woman - a Becky, an Amy, a Cathy but not a sister.

  Ivy looked over at Johnson for an explanation of who he was and why he was in her house.

  “Detective Johnson, ma’am,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Ivy Agosto, Nicola’s wife,” Ivy said, seeing the surprise in his eyes. She was used to it after six years of marriage to a white man in the city where Dr. King was assassinated. Some things just never went over well.

  “Sorry, baby,” Nicola said, motioning to Johnson. “This is my new partner.” He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

  “Nice to meet you,” Ivy said, trailing her intense gaze back to Nicola. “Don’t be all night, Nicky. You and I have unfinished business.” Her voice was flat now, knowing that she could demand all she wanted, but more than likely it wouldn’t happen.

  “I won’t.” Nicola kissed her on her forehead. “I promise.” He blinked as he said it. How could he tell her anything but that even though he knew it might not be true? He would try his best. That was the truth.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs…” Johnson paused.

  “You’re his war partner. You can just call me Ivy,” she said with a half-smile. “Watch his back out there okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Johnson said, saluting her.

  7

  Nicola followed Johnson’s unmarked squad car in his truck with the lights flashing as they barreled through the city streets to downtown Memphis off of Madison Avenue directly across from the Madison Hotel, where a parking garage had been quartered off by the police.

  Onlookers from the hotel, the law school directly across the main thoroughfare and the gym gathered around speculating and pointing, while anxious news crews tried to get a glimpse of the action for a live
shot.

  Pulling up out front of the crime scene, Johnson and Nicola quickly jumped out, waved their badges and went under the tape.

  “What time did they find him?” Nicola asked as they walked past detectives standing around talking.

  “I got the call fifteen minutes before I came to your place. So, not too long before that,” Johnson answered, nodding towards a detective he knew. “Where’s the body?” he asked the guy.

  “Second floor,” the detective said, pointing up. “Can’t miss it.”

  On the second floor of the garage in the nearly vacant lot, flashing lights from crime scene cameras danced around the concrete structure as a woman in a black top and jeans took more pictures.

  Nicola and Johnson walked up to the Range Rover, covered with bullet holes and broken glass and stopped.

  “Why do these motherfuckers always drive Land Rovers?” Johnson asked quizzically.

  “They are normally good urban warfare vehicles. They can maneuver in just about any terrain," Nicola answered.

  “So can a Hummer,” Johnson said, taking his eyes off the dead man to look at the woman as she bent over to take photos of the blood dripping from the interior of the truck to the ground.

  “Well, he got fucked off regardless, didn’t he?” Nicola said, rolling his eyes.

  “You think,” Johnson said, tilting his head and looking inside of the window at the dead body. “Looks like buck shot,” he said, looking at Nicola.

  “12-gauge pump more than likely,” Nicola said, putting his hand on his hip. He exhaled a sigh. “Cane’s favorite. The bastard was right under our nose.”

  “So you believe he killed him over our case?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Nicola said with a frown.”

  “Hey, don’t fuck with my crime scene, gentlemen,” Detective Aubrey Graham said, walking up to the men. Graham was a mid-forties, black heavy-set woman with dark skin, black glasses, a thing against wearing make-up and a mean streak. Barely five feet tall, she had a reputation for being a hard ass on the streets but everyone loved her on the force. She nodded at Johnson and then stuck her hand out to shake Agosto’s hand. “So, do you think that this guy had something to do with the Baby Boy murders? Cuz I was told you guys weren’t working shit else until you solved it.”

  “He may have had some useful information that could have helped us,” Agosto said, careful not to give too much away. “Why’d you call Johnson on this?”

  Johnson looked over at Nicola and scratched the back of his neck. Where was the trust?

  Detective Graham smiled at Johnson. “He asked me to give him a call on any murders until he cracked the case.” She turned looking at Twist. “So you think he had something to do with it?” She asked again, just in case Nicola didn’t hear her the first time.

  “No,” Nicola answered finally. “I just think that he could have helped.”

  “Any possible idea of who might have killed him?” she asked, yawning. “I scratch your back. You scratch mine.”

  Nicola rested his hands on the back of his head and yawned also. “Cane. His partner. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. You might want to start by dusting the truck for his prints. I’m sure you’ll find them, and I’m sure that he’ll say that they lived together and shared the damned thing.”

  “When you say partner?” she looked over at Nicola suggestively.

  “I mean business partner,” Nicola said, shaking his head.

  “Hey, it’s a new world. You have to be very specific these days,” she said with a chuckle.

  Nicola stepped closer to the scene. “Did you find anything in his truck? Any data devices or anything?” He looked back at her.

  “Not yet, but I’ll let you know once we haul it in to check it out,” Graham said, seeing that one of her detectives needed her elsewhere. “I’ll get back with you boys later.”

  Nicola moved closer to the truck and looked inside without contaminating the scene.

  Twist’s eyes were still open. His dead gaze was set on the wall across from him. Evidently, someone had stepped in front of the car and gotten his attention. But the shot that had ended his life, came from the driver side window. Blood splatter indicated it and the large hole on the side of his head and body. His right hand was still clenching the gun but the poor bastard never got a shot off.

  While Nicola was looking inside, Johnson gave Graham the skinny on The Fly Boys and their operations before they gracefully bowed out.

  “You want to go down to the coroner’s office with the body?” Johnson asked.

  “Nah,” Nicola said, looking at his watch. Damn it was getting late. “Just tell Amy to call me if she finds anything that might be useful.”

  “Will do,” Johnson said, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “So…you wanna tell me how you got to be rich?”

  “I’m not rich,” Nicola said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Well, how’d you get the house?” Johnson probed.

  Nicola spun around aggravated at Johnson and the hour.

  Johnson put up his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m a detective. You can’t expect me not to be naturally curious. If you’re on the take, then just…”

  Nicola wouldn’t even let him finish that statement. “My family has money. I have money. My wife makes a good life for herself, over six digits. We’re blessed. Now end of discussion about my finances. I haven’t been on the take, and I’m not ever going to be on the fucking take. I’d rather die first.” He raised his brow. “Anything else, detective. You wanna know if I’m a boxers or brief kind of guy?”

  “Yeah as a matter of fact, I do have one more question. Does your wife have a sister…with money?” Johnson asked with a smile.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Nicola said, shaking his head. “No, she doesn’t, but she does have a very beautiful brother if you’re in to that sort of thing.”

  Johnson laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that you’ve heard this a thousand times before, but you have a beautiful house, a beautiful wife and a seemingly beautiful life. That’s hard to come by this day and age. I know dudes on the force who have been married like four times by forty.”

  “I’m not fucking forty,” Nicola protested.

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “Look, don’t think I don’t know that I’ve got it made at home. Okay, I had to basically jump through a fire-blazing hoop with gasoline on my balls to get my wife,” Nicola said, pointing at Johnson as he made his point. “That’s why I try my best to protect my family. I’ve got two sets of twin boys who think the world of me. I’m there fucking Superman. That’s why my home life has to be completely separate from my work. I don’t like to mix ’em. So, showing up at the house is a no-no unless it’s a social call. Call me on my cell. Let me come to you. I don’t like to get the wife worried, and trust me. She is a worry wart. She’ll be texting me all damn day.”

  “I’ll remember that in the future,” Johnson huffed. He quickly shifted gears again. “Well, I never thought you’d be married to a black woman,” Johnson said out of the blue. “That shit blew my mind. When she came walking around the corner in your house, I was like…damn! You just don’t seem like the type.”

  “And what’s the type?” Agosto asked defensively. He had been told the same thing a hundred times and it always rubbed him the wrong way.

  Johnson shrugged again, turning up his lips as he did. “I don’t know…open minded.”

  Agosto laughed. “Yeah, well since you’re into getting personal, just what the fuck are you?”

  Johnson wiped his mouth off and looked up in the air. “What do I look like?”

  “You look like fucking…Vin Diesel,” Agosto joked. “A broke-ass, wanna be, cock strong Vin Diesel stunt double.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not broke. But you hit the nail on the head. Italian and Black all the way baby. Which means my dick is twice as long as yours. And considering the pedigree, don’t be surprised if your kids don’t end up looking
like me when they grow up, a bunch of Vin Diesel look alikes. ”

  “Shiiittt. My kids will never be that ugly,” Agosto said. He let out a sigh. Without intention his mind had drifted back to Ivy and her news. He was going to be a father…again. The idea excited him and overwhelmed him, but the timing was way off. Plus, he knew that she was at home stewing over him having to leave again and disrupt their night. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make things up to her, but he knew that he was going to somehow.

  “I know how this sounds before I even say it, so I’m just going to go on and put the disclaimer out there that this case means as much to me as it does to you,” Nicola said, turning towards Johnson.

  “I think it means more to you based up on that scene at the Naples house.”

  “Ivy’s pregnant. She just broke the news to me tonight and we didn’t even have a full conversation before you rang the doorbell. I really need to get back to her before long. You know how women are. Me leaving can’t be the lasting memory in her head about my final kid.”

  “Final?”

  “So she says.”

  “Hell, with four already, I don’t blame her. But yeah, okay. Let’s get a move on. Congrats by the way. You’re a daddy again. I’ll have to buy you a drink sometime. You still can get out, right? You’re not on one of those off-hour lockdowns where you can’t leave the house unless it’s work related.”

  Nicola shook his head. “No. Ivy’s normally really cool about anything I want to do. It’s just the situation. A drink sounds cool.”

  Johnson nodded. “So where are we going? Back to Twist’s place?”

  “For what? You really think Cane’s gonna tell us anything now? Fuck that. I doubt they’ll have surveillance tapes of the murder. They would have been smart not to leave any evidence over here. This was set-up, planned. Plus, all we have is a theory about the buckshot. We can’t just show up there at his place now. The best thing we can do is track his phone, see if we can get a number and try to find out if anyone will come forward.”

  “You don’t really think that the Molly dealer is going to come forward now, do you? That would be suicide and for what? He doesn’t get anything out of it. His boss is dead, just in case you haven’t noticed,” Johnson said pointing back at Twist. “Best thing is to kick this dude’s door in and drag him downtown.”