The Man in 3B

by Weber, Carl

  Seeing him in this condition was heartbreaking. I couldn’t sit here and make small talk with him, so I let my emotions go where they wanted to. Through my tears I asked, “Why, Ben? Why did you confess to killing Daryl? I know you’re not that type of man. You couldn’t have done it.”

  “You calling me a liar, Nancy?” He sat back in his chair and glared at me.

  His reaction really confused me. I would expect someone to be angry about being accused of murder, but he seemed more upset about being accused of lying. It was weird. Something else was going on here, and I wasn’t going to give up until he told me what it was.

  “I wanna know why you’re doing this.”

  He pressed his lips together, as if to say, You can’t make me talk. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms, raised my eyebrows, and stared him down. He was being stubborn, but I could be too. At this point, it was a battle of wills to see who would surrender first. Ben did.

  “Okay, you’re right,” he finally said.

  “What do you mean, I’m right?”

  I guess I’d raised my voice out of frustration because he leaned in and shushed me. “Keep your voice down.” He smiled at the guards who were looking in our direction.

  “Right about what?” I whispered it this time.

  “I didn’t kill Daryl.”

  Now things were getting interesting.

  “Then why are you here? Why would you say you killed the man if you didn’t?”

  “Because I know who did, and I’d rather it be me in here than him. I have to protect him. It’s my job.”

  “Oh, please. Your job is to put out fires, not take a bid for some murderer. I mean, who are you indebted to like that, Ben? Who are you protecting?” And that’s when it hit me. There was only one person Ben would protect with his life.

  I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, trying to wrap my head around this whole surreal experience. “You’re doing this for Benny, aren’t you?”

  There was a silent pause, then he nodded. “Look, I confessed to the murder. Live with it, because that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  Now I was even more confused. “Benny couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. He and Daryl were…” I almost fixed my lips to say, “lovers,” but the verdict was still out on that one. I didn’t want to go bearing false witness—which was exactly what Ben was doing. “You can’t take the rap for this, Ben. How do you know he did it anyway? Did he tell you he did it?”

  Ben glanced in the direction of the guards again, but they weren’t paying us any mind. Thank God, because if they had been, Ben might have clammed up, and now that I had him talking, I needed to know everything.

  “No, he didn’t tell me. I just know.”

  I shook my head. “Not good enough, Ben. You could spend the rest of your life in jail, thinking you’re protecting your son, and you don’t even know that he really did it.”

  “He did it!” Now he was the one getting loud. He caught himself and calmed his tone. “Remember when I used to take Benny upstate on the Fourth of July?”

  I nodded. I’d hated that holiday ever since Ben and I began our affair, because it meant he would be out of town with his son.

  He continued, “One time on that trip, I showed him how to make homemade fireworks.”

  “So what? Daryl died by fire, Ben, not by fireworks.”

  “No,” he said. “It wasn’t the fire.”

  “Ben, you’re not making any sense. I’m worried about you.” I was starting to think he could plead temporary insanity.

  “When they were interrogating me, the cops revealed some of the evidence they had. I think they were just trying to scare me into confessing.”

  “Well, I guess it worked, didn’t it?” I said. “I still don’t see how any of this convinced you that it was Benny.”

  “The fire was set to cover up the murder. Daryl was already dead when the blaze started.”

  That was tragic, but I still wasn’t getting his point. I guess he could see from my face that I was confused because he continued his explanation.

  “The fire investigators said the fire was started with kerosene and graphite.”

  “Okay…,” I said, still not putting the pieces together.

  “The homemade fireworks Benny and I used to make were made with kerosene and graphite.”

  Okay, now it was becoming clearer.

  “When the cops searched my place, guess what they found?”

  It felt like my heart stopped as I finally understood the whole picture. “Kerosene and graphite,” I whispered breathlessly.

  “That’s right. And now that you have this information, what conclusion do you come up with?”

  “That either you or Benny killed Daryl,” I said, speaking words I never dreamed would come out of my mouth.

  “Bingo. And if I didn’t do it…”

  I swallowed hard. “Then Benny had to have done it.”

  “And I’m not letting my son spend the rest of his life in prison. He’s got too much going for him. So I killed Daryl Graham. That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.” He leaned back. “Now leave it alone, Nancy.”

  “Do you really expect me to leave it alone while the man I love sits in here and rots?”

  Ben’s eyebrows rose. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me. I said I’m not going to leave it alone.”

  “No. Before that. The part about the man you what?”

  Suddenly it dawned on me that I’d confessed my love to him. And I didn’t regret it one bit. “I said, ‘the man I love.’ ” I reached for his hand across the table. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Ben, and hearing what you are willing to do for your son, that only makes me love you more.”

  Ben looked down at our intertwined hands, then up into my eyes, but he never said the words I wanted to hear: I love you too. Part of me understood. He was in jail and it looked like his only son was a murderer, so there probably wasn’t much room in his heart for mushy emotions right now. But I had to believe that if he was out of jail—like I hoped he would be one day soon—he would tell me he loved me too.

  Getting past the awkward moment of silence, Ben said, “Please, Nancy, promise me you won’t say anything.”

  I stayed silent.

  “If you really love me, you won’t interfere. Let me do what I have to do.”

  Did he realize what he was asking of me? He was asking me to let him go to prison. He was asking me to give him up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do right now, Ben,” I said, and that was the truth. “You must really love that kid of yours to be willing to do something like this.”

  “I do with every ounce of my being.”

  “Well, I can’t sit by and watch you throw your life away. I’m not making any promises, but I think I know somebody who can help us.”

  I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which told me that even though he’d do it for his son’s sake, Ben did not want to go to prison.

  I visited with Ben until they had to damn near kick me out. We were allowed one good-bye kiss, and I was still holding onto the memory of that kiss as I took my seat on the bus from Rikers Island headed to Queens Plaza. Halfway through the ride, I took out my phone and called the only person I could think of to ask for help.

  “Hello.”

  “Detective Thomas, this is Nancy Williams. You were right. Ben Wilkins didn’t kill Daryl Graham, but it’s possible I know who did.”

  Krystal

  45

  The Mercedes was parked out in front of the building with the top down when I walked outside to see Slim off on his trip. He was going down to Virginia to take care of some business. Although I was sure I’d eventually miss him, I couldn’t wait to have some time to myself to chill out and get high—the latter of which I planned to do extensively, thanks to the two-week supply of blue boxes he’d given me. Yep, it was gonna be a good two weeks.

  I leaned over the passenger’s side door to kiss him good-bye.
r />   “Oh, shit. Just what I don’t need,” he said under his breath.

  I straightened up, a little insulted that he hadn’t kissed me back. “What, Slim?” He didn’t reply, didn’t even look my way because his eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. I turned to the rear of the car, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that he saw. It didn’t take but a second to realize what had caused his reaction.

  An unmarked police car had pulled up behind the convertible. The next thing I knew, there was a second marked car pulling up behind the first one. I knew something serious was about to go down when a third cop car pulled up alongside us, blocking Slim in. My fears were only confirmed when Detective Thomas and another very serious-looking white cop sporting a crew cut got out of the first car. They approached us, followed by at least six other cops, who looked like they were ready for business. My only hope was that, like the arrest at the wake, they weren’t looking for either of us. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case this time.

  “Good afternoon, folks,” Detective Thomas greeted us. The crew cut cop was on the driver’s side, and Thomas was behind me on the passenger’s side. The other cops had spread out in various positions around the car.

  “What do you want?” Slim asked in a tone that sounded a little too cocky to me. The fact that he never carried drugs or anything illegal in the car when he traveled probably had him feeling confident—too damn confident, if you asked me.

  “We can start with your license and registration,” Thomas said.

  “For what? I haven’t even moved.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Crew Cut chimed in. “But the keys are in the ignition and you’re sitting behind the steering wheel. In the state of New York, that makes you a driver. So can I have your license and registration, please?”

  Slim rolled his eyes, then reached for the glove compartment. Every cop surrounding the car tensed, ready to blow his ass away. I sighed thankfully when he lifted up his wallet for everyone to see.

  “Here,” Slim said, handing Crew Cut the paperwork.

  He studied Slim’s license and the registration like he’d be taking a test on it later that afternoon.

  “By the way, real nice ride you got here.” Thomas stepped up to the car, inspecting it as if he was about to make us an offer on it. “Where’d you get it?”

  “My father gave it to us,” I answered nervously.

  “Your father’s Avery Mack, isn’t he?” Crew Cut asked. I didn’t like the idea that he knew who my father was, and the disdain in his voice made me think he knew something about my father’s latest activities.

  “And who exactly are you?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You two haven’t met,” Thomas said. “This is Sergeant Ryan of the Major Crimes Unit. He’s been looking for your father for a while now.”

  “Yes,” Ryan said. “And you haven’t returned any of my calls, Ms. Mack, so Thomas offered to bring me over here to talk to you. Nice of him, wasn’t it?”

  Slim and I shared a frightened glance, then looked at the cops silently.

  This bold motherfucker Ryan opened Slim’s door. “Now that we’ve been officially introduced, why don’t you join your girlfriend on the sidewalk so we can have a little chat?”

  Slim stepped out of the car and made his way to my side. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was thinking: What the fuck did the Major Crimes Unit want with us? Slim had assured me that his little criminal enterprise was way off the New York police radar.

  “You folks mind if we search the car?” Ryan asked.

  “You got a warrant?” Slim replied.

  “Your paperwork says this car is registered to a man who’s wanted for major crimes. I can get a warrant here in fifteen minutes,” Ryan said. He was all in Slim’s face. “Do I have to get one, or are you going to make this easy?”

  “I never do anything easy,” Slim responded, folding his arms.

  Of course, you know the peanut gallery on the stoop was growing by the minute. When I first came out of the house, the only one there was Bertha. Now there had to be fifteen people on our stoop and half a dozen in the windows.

  “What do we have here?” Thomas had been leaning over the convertible looking in.

  Slim’s face went pale and his voice cracked. “Hey, you can’t touch that. I didn’t give you permission to search the car.”

  My knees almost gave out on me when Thomas turned toward us holding an empty blue box. He ran his finger along the inside and then held it up for us to see the layer of white powder.

  “Didn’t need permission,” Thomas said. “It’s a suspicious package in plain sight. That gives us probable cause to search the vehicle.”

  Thomas handed the package to Ryan, who turned and spoke to the two officers standing near the back of the car. “Search the car completely. I want everything bagged and tagged. Oh, and I’ll be getting a search warrant for their apartment. I got a feeling we’re going to find enough in there to send someone away for a long time.” He was looking directly at me as he spoke. I got an instant chill when I heard him.

  Benny

  46

  I’d just made a quick trip to the liquor store, and when I returned to the building, I could hear the laughter and joking halfway down the block. Those damn cackling, conniving, low-life wenches on the stoop were half the reason I hadn’t been out of my apartment in over a week and a half. I swear their gossip seemed to be even more vicious than before the fire, especially now that they had my father’s arrest to talk about. It had gotten so bad they didn’t even bother to stop the conversation when they saw me on the corner. They didn’t care that I was hurting inside and trying to get through the day. I suppose they were all competing to take Nancy’s spot as queen bee now that she was no longer hanging out there with them.

  When I got within a few feet of the stoop, they finally decided to show some common sense and stop talking, but they couldn’t have been more obvious about it. It was like the needle had been snatched off a record as every single voice came to a complete halt. Whatever they had been saying about me must have been pretty bad because not one of the hags could even make eye contact with me as I walked up the stairs. Since when had any of those broads ever been speechless?

  Once inside the building, I could hear them start up again. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I could imagine the hateful words, and that was bad enough. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. It wasn’t like I had the money to move out of the building, and I couldn’t hide inside forever. Sooner or later I’d have to start going out again, and I wasn’t about to walk through that gauntlet of gossipers every single time. I made up my mind right then and there to put an end to it.

  Straightening my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I went back out on to the stoop. They turned to look at me, and again all conversation came to a screeching halt.

  “You ugly-ass bitches got something to say, then say it to my face! Otherwise, keep my motherfucking name out your mouth!” I waited for a response, but not one of them opened her mouth. “Now, y’all have a nice day.” I left them with their jaws hanging open and stormed back into the building.

  Back in my apartment, I sat down on the sofa, trying to fight back tears. As much as they deserved it, I felt bad about the way I’d spoken to them. It wasn’t in my character to be that disrespectful—at least I wasn’t that kind of person before Daryl’s death. Ever since then, the pressure building inside of me was almost too intense to bear. I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be. I wished I could turn back to a more innocent time, before I met Daryl, when Pop and I were close and life seemed simple.

  My eyes locked in on a picture of my dad in full uniform, and I felt my heart swell with sadness. I wanted to hate him more than anything in this world for what he’d done, but I couldn’t. He was my father, and I missed him. He was the one person I used to be able to turn to whenever I had a problem. But now who did I have? Pop had taken everything from me, including himself. How f
ucked up is that? I had no one. I was completely alone, and I had nothing to live for.

  With tears streaming down my face, I went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. I clumsily knocked things out of the way, letting them clatter from the cabinet into the sink, until I found what I was looking for—Percocet.

  I carried the bottle into the kitchen and set it down on the table while I scribbled out a note.

  To whom it may concern:

  I can’t take it anymore. The guilt of Daryl’s death and the incarceration of my father have made life unbearable. I want everyone to know that the blame for Daryl’s death is squarely on my shoulders. I’m sorry.

  Benny

  It was my hope that once they found my note, it would cast doubt on Pop’s confession and they would release him. He’d be mad at first, but hopefully he’d be able to live out the rest of his life in happiness. Who knows? Maybe he could retire and move away somewhere with Nancy and be happy. I knew I was ready to go to a happier place. Hopefully I’d see Daryl there.

  I opened the bottle of Percocet, emptying the contents into my hand. There looked to be about twenty or so left from a thirty-day prescription. From what I had read, twenty was plenty. Then I reached for the bottle of Hennessy that I’d purchased specifically for this purpose. When the guy at the liquor store put it in the bag for me, he said, “Enjoy.” I doubted I’d even taste it going down. I’d only bought it to speed up this whole process, to get it over with.

  My heart was beating so hard that it took me a minute to determine that the loud thud I’d heard wasn’t my heartbeat, but instead a knock on the door. The first person that came to mind was Nancy. She’d been trying to get me to talk to her ever since Pop was arrested. I twisted the cap off the bottle, figuring Nancy would get the hint and go away. But it wasn’t her.

  “Benny, open the door. It’s Connie. I got a surprise for you.”

  “Connie,” I said softly.

  In the past week and a half, she had been the only one, other than Nancy, who’d come to see about me. She’d brought me food and lent a listening ear when I let her in, which wasn’t often. She’d been so nice to me, hadn’t questioned or judged me once. She only listened. Considering how she felt about Daryl, she could have hated me because of what Pop did. But she never said one bad word about Pop, and she showed me more kindness than I felt I even deserved.