The Green Line

by E. C. Diskin

  There were fist bumps all around and half hugs with Darnel and Fat D.

  “What’s going on?” He wasn’t sure how he was going to get into it yet.

  “Same shit, different day, Marcus.”

  “Fuckin’ cold, ain’t it? I still ain’t use to this wind.”

  “Couldn’t have been much different in New York though, right?” Darnel asked.

  “No. It was cold. But it seemed like we had more places to be inside on nights like this. There was this one bar—owner was cool. We just brought in our own shit and hung out. He didn’t care.”

  “Like Reggie’s,” Fat D said. Several of the boys nodded in agreement.

  Perfect. “Yeah, let’s go there. I haven’t been there in weeks.”

  Darnel was quick to stop him. “Didn’t you hear? They shut it down.”

  “What the fuck? Just because of that dead bitch?”

  Darnel answered. “You know how it works; they just take the buildings when they find drugs. There was a load in there that night.”

  Marcus continued, faking ignorance. “I had only been there a couple of times. I never saw anything going on.”

  A big guy with a small black diamond tattoo on the side of his neck chimed in. “That’s cuz there wasn’t. It’s bullshit.” Marcus didn’t recognize him, but the design told him he was one of the Four Corner Hustlers.

  He had them talking now. “What do you mean?”

  The big guy continued: “Freddy had a deal with Leon, the bartender. He’d keep that shit out of the place and Leon would be cool about everything else.”

  Marcus didn’t know Freddy, but he got the gist.

  He played it through. “So what happened with Leon? Did he get busted?”

  Darnel answered. “He did. And the fucker wasn’t even there!” Everyone laughed.

  Another kid wondered aloud, “How was he not there? It was open. He’s the only employee.”

  Darnel had the scoop. “He says he was sent on a wild goose chase.”

  “What do you mean?” Marcus asked.

  “Some cop came in that night. Leon said he sent him out for olives or some bullshit.”

  “Olives?” All the boys were laughing.

  Darnel continued. “I’m serious. Some cop came in, told him to go get him some shit, and Leon left. He went about four blocks up the road, got pulled over for jaywalking, was harassed for like twenty minutes, and then let go. When he got back, the place was surrounded and he was arrested.”

  Fat D had the same thought as Marcus. “Why’d he leave his bar with that cop inside?”

  “Cause the fucker was a repeat customer. Leon said it was the same fucker who came in a few weeks back.”

  The gossip was passing the time well and Marcus and the others were huddled in a circle, keeping out the chill.

  “How’d you hear all this?” Marcus asked Darnel.

  “Leon’s out on bond. Stayin’ at Rickie’s. Awaiting grand jury hearing. I smoked a J with him yesterday.”

  Marcus wanted to talk to Leon.

  “Yeah, he’s screwed. Arrested twice in the last six weeks for drug trafficking. He’s got no chance.”

  “Twice?” Maybe Leon was a dealer and these arrests were legitimate.

  Fat D broke in. “Yeah, my brother was with him the first time. Fuckin’ psycho cops came into Reggie’s. No uniforms, but all wearing their bullet proof vests. Except one of them. Anyway, they threw shit, broke some chairs, beer bottles, tossed the picture of Malcolm X across the room. Put guns to their heads. Had ’em on the floor as they wailed about wanting to find the drugs.”

  “Did they?”

  “One of them went in the back and came back with a big bag ’a shit in one hand. They arrested Leon for dealing.”

  Another kid broke in: “I known Leon for a long time. That guy smokes weed every day, but he would never deal.”

  Another one added, “He couldn’t handle the math.”

  Everyone laughed. The jokes continued at Leon’s expense and Marcus processed the information. He wanted to look up the arrest record as soon as possible. He wanted to know who those cops were.

  Marcus needed a bit more. “Well, I hope I don’t run into those cops anytime soon. What’d they look like?”

  “My brother said they was Nazi-like muthefuckas. White, crew cuts, light hair. ’Cept one. He had kind of wavy, blond hair.”

  It clicked right away. Marcus turned to Fat D and Darnel. “Hey, ’member the other week we was hangin’ out at Carter’s and that white cop came in and you said he was bad shit. He had wavy hair. Was it him?”

  No one could answer. It was all second-hand information and no one had been with Leon either night.

  Several of the boys were finishing their cigarettes. The big one said they were heading to Suga’ Ray’s on North for some food. Darnel and Fat D agreed to go. Marcus said he needed some beer, said good-bye, and headed home.

  SIXTEEN

  ABBY spent Saturday and Sunday at the firm. She finished Neil’s draft Saturday night, but spent most of Sunday sorting through the Dalcon Laboratories documents. By four o’clock, it was getting dark and she headed home.

  The snow had melted off the sidewalks, leaving just the giant mounds pushed to the curb by the snow plows. Abby stopped at the mini-mart on the corner for some much-needed groceries and as she rounded the corner at Texas Star Fajita Bar, she noticed a kid outside her front gate. He looked a lot like the kid Mrs. Tanor had described. There were no young twenty-somethings who lived in the building.

  “Hey!” Abby shuffled toward the gate, juggling her groceries and briefcase.

  The boy looked in Abby’s direction and ran the other way.

  “Wait! Who are you? What do you want!” She was yelling and running as fast as she could, but the boy was faster. In no time, he was long gone.

  Abby stopped at her gate, just in time to catch the milk, now busting out of the bottom of her grocery bag.

  Abby rang Mrs. Tanor’s, wondering if she’d seen him and called police, but no one answered. She fumbled with her keys, lost the delicate balance of bags, and watched as the eggs splat onto the concrete.

  “Goddammit.” This was not her day. In fact, she thought, 2004 was not feeling like her year.

  ON Monday morning, Abby stood in the security line at the Dirksen Federal Building, emptying out her pockets in anticipation of the metal detector.

  “Ms. Donovan?”

  Abby turned to the voice behind her.

  “Yes?” Abby did not recognize the short, graying man in the blue suit who now stood smiling behind her.

  He offered his hand. “Hello. I’m Ted Gottlieb. You sent me that forfeiture matter a few weeks back.”

  “Oh sure. Hello.” Abby extended her hand to shake. “But how did you know who I was?”

  “I just caught a glimpse of the ID tag on your briefcase.”

  “Right,” Abby said with a smile and turned back to move forward in line.

  Gottlieb continued. “Ms. Donovan, I’m glad that I ran into you.”

  Abby turned back. “Why’s that?”

  “I have some personal effects from Mr. Rashid. I know you didn’t know him too well, but you knew him better than I. I wonder if there’s anyone I should call.”

  “What do you have?” Gottlieb and Ali had only met the one time, as she recalled.

  “Well, Mr. Rashid brought me some videotapes from the surveillance camera in his shop.”

  “Oh.” Abby thought about this. “Did he have footage from the drug-trafficking arrests?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d really appreciate getting those from you. There are issues about his case that I’m still involved in.” It wasn’t a total lie.

  “Sure.” He gave her his business card. “Just call my secretary and she’ll messenger them to your office later today.”

  “That’s fabulous. Well, it was really nice meeting you. And if I ever hear of another person needing a criminal defense lawyer, I’ll pass on
your name.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  They both loaded their briefcases onto the conveyer belt, moved through the security area, and said good-bye at the elevator bank. Abby hit 4 to go to Judge Coreus’s courtroom.

  There were about fifteen people in the courtroom. Attorneys mostly, waiting for their turn to present the judge with their motions. The judge walked in just as Abby was entering, so she took a seat in the back. Fortunately, Nate’s case was the first to be called, Ramirez vs. City of Chicago, et al. Nate presented his motion to the judge and the defense counsel stood, ready to argue. Nate wanted additional time for discovery because he had not received all requested documents from the defense and had been unable to complete his depositions. The defense was quick to assert code provisions regarding time limits and Nate fired back about stonewalling and the defense’s failure to respond. The judge cut them off quickly and fired questions at both attorneys. He ordered the parties to re-set the trial date, continue with discovery for another sixty days, and threw out some vague warnings about abiding by the rules for full disclosure and cooperation.

  As Nate returned to his client, he looked pleased. Abby caught his eye and waved. Nate nodded and ushered his client toward the exit. Abby followed them into the hall.

  “Abby!” Nate gave her a warm and knowing smile.

  “Isabel, this is Abigail Donovan. She’s another attorney who’s going to be working with us.”

  Abby shot Nate a look since she hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but he just grinned. Abby offered her hand to the woman. The woman, who stood a couple of inches above Abby, offered a tentative smile and shook Abby’s hand weakly. She had on an orange parka, a bright white church-going polyester dress, and giant boots.

  Nate turned his attention to his client. “That went well. Thanks for meeting me here. I’ll call you later this week and give you an update. Get some rest.”

  The woman smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Walters.”

  He stopped her. “Isabel, come on. If I’m going to call you Isabel, you have to call me Nate.”

  “Okay, Nate. And nice to meet you, Ms. Donovan.”

  Abby smiled. “You too. And please call me Abby.”

  Isabel walked to the elevator with tentative steps and nearly jumped from the movements of others in the hall.

  Nate turned to Abby. “You came!”

  “Yeah, yeah, so what is this all about?”

  “Here.” Nate pulled a document from his briefcase. “This is a copy of the testimony she gave me when this first began. Read it over. It’ll make your blood boil.”

  Abby took the paper. “So why’d she come today?”

  “She’s not employed right now. She’s scared at home. I think it gives her a sense of security to meet me and see that the case is active. Even if we’re just in the pre-trial stage.”

  Abby could understand that. They headed for the elevators.

  “Besides, I kind of like reminding the judge and the opposing counsel of the face of this case. Everyone gets caught up in the game and maneuvering. I want them to see this woman’s face all the time.”

  “So, what now?” Abby asked. They were walking back into the sea of bodies on the main floor.

  “Now I go over to Judge Moore’s chambers on another matter.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I better get moving.”

  “Okay, well, have a good day, Nate. I’ll call you later.”

  “You better.” He was already halfway down the hall. “Welcome aboard!”

  Abby shook her head in slight disbelief that she was even here. She followed a mass of people leaving the elevator banks toward the exit. The line for the metal detectors now extended to the front doors. Officer Reilly walked in. He was in uniform, walking with another officer. It made her stomach jump. He was probably here to testify in a case, but she felt afraid. He’d been nothing but nice to her, but now she wondered. Was he a crooked cop? She remained behind the other people walking toward the exit and tried to blend in with the crowd. As she got through the revolving door, she looked back. He was chatting casually with another officer.

  Stepping out into the sunshine, she grabbed her sunglasses and tried to relax, while a sea of people headed toward her and the courthouse. And then she saw him. It was hard to miss him. He had a swagger and his wavy blond hair almost sparkled in the sunshine. She looked down immediately, wondering if he’d recognize her, wondering why he never called, wondering if he’d seen her naked. What if they had slept together? Just a sleazy one-night stand. Of course he wouldn’t call. He probably left as soon as we finished.

  What was he doing here? He was heading toward her. Just say hello, she silently commanded. Act confident and ask for a date. She reached to remove her sunglasses and opened her mouth but froze as a wave of insecurity took over. What if he didn’t remember her? What if he blew her off? Her ego couldn’t take it. She quickly looked away and bent over, like she was pulling something out of her bag. She hoped he didn’t notice her.

  He walked right past her and through the revolving door. Should I call him? She tried to remember what she had done with that cocktail napkin.

  · · ·

  TRIP removed his coat, readying himself for the detector. Waiting in line with the other civilians, he looked over at the officers and attorneys going through their own shorter, faster security checkpoint. That was really the only thing he missed. He saw a few familiar faces and said hello and spotted Mike leaning against the wall by the elevators. Trip pushed the button and they both waited in silence. When the doors opened, several people entered and Mike pushed the button for the third floor. Trip followed Mike toward the first courtroom. It was empty. They sat in the back row by the door.

  Mike turned to Trip. “The judge will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Trip pulled the envelope from his back pocket and said, “Two thousand.”

  The giant courtroom echoed. Mike responded in a hushed voice. “I thought you said it would be four.”

  “This is just for Quick Mart. I was hoping we’d be done with Reggie’s by now. When’s the auction?”

  Mike looked around and put the money away. “Why are we meeting here, anyway? I don’t think we should be seen together.”

  “First of all, we’re here because you needed to be here this morning, right? And I have some properties to see in the neighborhood. And the room’s empty. Besides, who cares if people see us? We were friends on the force, we’re still friends. No crime in that.”

  “This has gotten more serious, Trip, and you know it.”

  “Mike, you didn’t do anything. You made some arrests. Moved forward for seizure. It’s your job. What’s the big deal?”

  Mike looked at Trip. He wasn’t going to say it out loud. But Trip could tell this was about the murders. The death of some useless hooker and some fucking terrorists. There was no reason to panic.

  “What if someone connects these cases?”

  “Who? Really, what are you afraid of? You’ve brought in big scores of drugs, you’ve seized some buildings, and the department will get a nice profit. Hardly a cause for investigation.”

  “But that bartender at Reggie’s—I mean, what are the chances that charge is gonna stick? There are no prior convictions. No eyewitness to dealings. We’re just talking about possession.”

  “First of all, who cares if the charges stick? You know it doesn’t affect the case. Besides, Leon’s got more than possession. It was a lot. That’s possession with intent. And we’ve got three cops that will testify to finding drugs on his person several weeks ago. What better testimony could you ask for?”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Don’t you worry. You didn’t really think you were the only cop I was counting on, did you? This is no small gig. I’ve got friends in all sorts of places. And we both know cops don’t make enough money.”

  Mike continued to look at the door. He wouldn’t sit still.

  “Mike, come on. Relax. How’s it coming with the Madison pro
perty? Have you reported any suspicious activity yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I want the trail set by March. If I can get in there by summer, it’ll be ready to flip in the fall.”

  He looked at Mike for confirmation and grew impatient as he waited. “Mike, your mother doing better these days?”

  “Why?”

  “I know you can use the money, that’s all. Now focus. Let’s clear Reggie’s and this next one. I’m sure that will help with her medical bills.”

  “I don’t even know when you’ll get Reggie’s. Owners filed a claim fighting the forfeiture.”

  “Leon can’t fight this case. We’ve got him for trafficking.”

  “Turns out Leon’s father is the owner.”

  Trip slammed his fist against the bench in front of them. “Goddammit! You investigated title! How could you not know that?”

  “They have the same name. I didn’t realize.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Sorry, Trip. It was an honest mistake. The property is still an instrument of the crime. The owner will still have to prove he couldn’t have known. He’ll lose. It’s just going to take a while longer.”

  Now Trip couldn’t sit still. He was talking to himself as much as Mike. “That just fucks with my plans. I was counting on that property. I’ve invested money and time already.” He looked at Mike then. “I better get that property.”

  Mike looked away. People were starting to pour in.

  Trip shook his head in disbelief and stood to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Mike leaned over. “Hey, you sure that Abigail Donovan is nothing to worry about?”

  Trip wasn’t sure of anything anymore; that’s why he’d been moving forward in dealing with her. Just in case. “Why?”

  “I saw her a few minutes ago, downstairs. Made me think of it.”