29
PHILADELPHIA, 30th STREET AMTRAK STATION
“The reporter went for it,” Mabel said, and frowned. She handed McKenzey the evening edition of the newspaper, and pointed to the article.
They were sitting in the busy 30th Street Amtrak station. Just two women waiting on a train headed down south because they hated to fly.
“That’s not just any reporter, though, Mabel. He’s Ravonne Lemmelle’s best friend,” McKenzey tucked his weave hair behind his ear as smoothly as any woman does. “Getting him all mixed into this for a measly $15,000 was a brilliant idea.” McKenzey went into his purse and pulled out a shot bottle of bourbon, and handed one to his accomplice. “One for you, and one for me,” he said and opened both bottles.
“Oh, my favorite,” Mabel said and drank the entire bottle in one gulp.
“I know. I got it just for you,” McKenzey said and blew her a fake kiss. “Hang out here a minute, I have to use the restroom.”
“I’ll be right here. How about another shot?”
“No, you won’t be needing anymore,” McKenzey told her and walked off.
30
PHILADELPHIA, RAVONNE’S CAR
“I hope you’re right about this,” Ravonne said to Aramis sitting in his car. He had no desire to be surprised.
“Come on, Ray Ray. Do not treat me like some sort of witness. The woman found dead at the train station was the same woman that brought me the conspiracy theory. And that big ass woman sitting with her was McKenzey.”
“What the fuck have you gotten us into? I knew this was a bad fucking idea, man.” Ravonne was pissed. “News reports suggested that the woman was poisoned by an unknown woman. Now you need to come clean and confess that that was no woman, but America’s Most Wanted, former DEA Agent Lucas McKenzey.”
“Yup, I guess I do.”
“Don’t sound all innocent now, Aramis. You know better than to do this kind of shit for money. I told you that it was a bad idea from the door. Now this woman is dead and you helped send her to meet her maker.”
“Why are you so fucking pissed? I am the one in deep shit.”
Ravonne leaned his head back and tossed his arm over his face. They were parked at the corner of Broad Street and Spring Garden Street across from the Benjamin Franklin High School. High school students that attended the night school program there walked by them, and Ravonne wished that he was one of them. Just a high schooler with one worry; going to school and getting an education. He had no idea what was going to happen next, but he was fully aware that he was in the thick of this incident which included murder. What the fuck is the prosecutor going to say when this hits the fan? How the hell will the judge react to the prosecutor’s complaint? What if they force me off the case? Then what will happen to my client who doubles as my younger cousin? This is fucking absurd. And all over money,” he thought, and shook his head. He was disgusted.
“You have no idea how involved in this I will become. Some dead woman gave my best friend a story to run about one of my cases. Not any case, one of the biggest one’s going on in the city right now. This will cause a lot of problems for my case. I just filed a Motion to Dismiss, Aramis, and now you get involved in this.”
“This won’t affect your case, bro.”
“Don’t bro me.” Ravonne slammed his hand on his steering wheel. “I have to go.” He needed to get away from Aramis because at that point he could slap the hell out of him so hard that his head would slam against the passenger window.
“What are you going to do, Ray Ray?”
“Just think. What the fuck else can I do?”
“I do not know what to say,” Aramis said and got out of the car. He walked around to the driver’s side of the car, and looked his best friend square in the eyes. “I am sorry, Ray Ray. This is undoubtedly the greatest mistake that I have ever made on my journey to obtain success.”
Ravonne kept his eyes forward and shifted the car into drive. “Sadly, I don’t believe that this will be the last thing that you’ll do on this so-called road.”
Ravonne slowly moved into the traffic and left his best friend there to ponder. Ravonne wasn’t mad, but he had to force Aramis to understand that he just could not do things for money. Fast money was why he had a job as a criminal defense attorney. The last thing he needed was his best friend out on a limb for money. Risk your career for free if you really want it, he thought.
31
CAMDEN, DRE’S HIDEOUT
Andre heard an obnoxious bang at the door, and was sure that it was Rock. It had to be. No other person in that building had the balls to bang on his door with such authority. Rock had a lot of chutzpah to come to Andre’s hideout making his presence so obvious. Andre signaled with head for Mack to open the door.
Mack was a tall man, built like a NBA small forward. He was often underestimated because he was a light toned man, but he was a ruthless animal that work diligently to prove that. He had about the same IQ as a chipmunk when it came to critical thinking, planning and common sense. He was only good at selling drugs, killing people and following Andre Bezel’s orders.
When the door swung open Mack looked at Rock with an air of disgust. Rock didn’t care.
Rock’s hand was in his pocket and wrapped tightly around his pistol. He was prepared to kill the three men that he had known and worked with for over 5 years. None of that mattered, though.
“Yo, I got to piss like a race horse,” Rock said and headed down a long hallway which lead to two bedrooms and a bathroom. “I’ll be right back, so we can get shit on the roll.”
Rock went into the bathroom, turned on the water and began to piss. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a message to Yolanda: I will be sending some shit down in a second. Be on point. Do not reply. His street smarts kicked in and he deleted the message.
Rock left the water running and then peaked out of the bathroom door. He slipped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom on the left side of the hallway, which had windows leading down to the back driveway, where he had Yolanda parked. He went straight to the closet, opened the door and then from the corner of his eye he saw Andre standing in the doorway with a gun pointed at him. Within seconds Dook was there with another gun in Rock’s face before Mack hit Rock with a deadly overhand right that sent Rock crashing to the floor. His shoulder slammed into the dresser before his head hit the floor.
Dre kicked him and said, “Get the fuck up, pussy.” He spit in his face, and with venom, he said, “You planned on coming in here and robbing me. You must think that I am some kind of fool.”
“Nah, man.” Rock pleaded. “It wasn’t even like that, man,” he said, and then punched Mack in the face. He stumbled back and Rock hit him with another combination, and watched him fall to the ground. Pulling out his gun, he aimed it at Andre.
“What you want me to do, Dre?” Dook asked through clinched teeth. Spit flew out of his mouth, and anger was spread across his face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mack asked from the floor. “Y’all mutha fuckas are going to kill me now.” Mack shimmied his body toward the wall and pushed himself up some, before he sent a silenced shot into Dook’s face. He then jerked against the wall as Dre shot him in the shoulder.
Rock tried to raise his gun at Dre, but Mack blasted Rock in his face. Mack did not have a silencer and the shot bounced off the walls echoing through the building.
“What the fuck?” Dre yelled. Looking hard at Mack. “What the fuck, dawg? Where the hell is ya silencer? The whole damn Camden probably heard that shot.” He rushed over to the window and raised it up. He looked down and saw a car parked with its head lights on, and knew that someone had to be in it. “Oh well,” he said and grabbed Rock under his arms. “Grab his feet, Mack.”
* * *
Yolanda told her handler where she was, and he had told her to stay in the car. He was sending back up to watch over her just in case things had gotten ugly.
“Don’t blow your cover by trying to get
to much information to quickly. If you try to get too close you may cause him to back off or think that you’re too clingy,” he told her.
“Or a cop,” she said and laughed.
“You’re laughing, but it just may be that he is smart enough to see through you and play you. I am definitely going to dispatch a team to the projects, and squat on it.” Agent Malvoy knew that she could handle herself, but he was being proactive and protecting his investment. If she was able to crack the case and get Andre Bezel behind bars once and for all, his unit would receive all kinds of awards and honors.
“Oh, really. You know that this projects has all sort of hoodlums milling about. They are kinda crafty and may be able to spot us a mile away. Just make sure the agents know that. I am sure Andre Bezel has paid them well to watch out for him. After all he’s in a projects with practically one way up because no one is taking them steps to the top floors of the building.”
“Come on, Special Agent. This is what we do. I have snitches everywhere. I can get the exact apartment that they are in before you even leave the building,” he said and then heard a loud noise. “What the fuck was that, special agent?”
“Get the local police here, sir. That was Rock that just landed on the hood of my car.”
“That much rock cocaine. It caused that much noise. It seemed to me like your whole car was smashed.”
“No, sir,” she said and hopped out of the driver’s seat. “Rock. My perp was just dropped out of the window and he landed on the hood of my car. I am leaving the scene as we speak. Get the police here now, while I head to the front to see if any known suspects come out of the building.”
“Do not go in there, Special Agent. You wait for local PD and just observe the place. Like you said, just see who’s coming and going.”
“I got it sir,” she said and sped around the corner. “I am hanging up to use my phone to take pictures and things. And, uh, boss?”
“Yes.”
“I am going to make you proud.”
32
PHILADELPHIA, RAVONNE’S HOME
Ravonne walked into his home and Brandon ran over to the door and jumped on him.
“Dad,” he said and hugged his father tightly. “I missed you so much.”
“Okay, I missed you too,” Ravonne told him and rubbed his head. “Where’s Daddy D?”
“He left me here by myself,” Brandon said and hopped on the sofa. He had a Dr. Suess book sitting there that he picked up, and waved in the air. “I need some new books, Dad, by the way.”
“By the way,” Dajuan said walking into the living room. “What I tell you about being grown, Brandon?” he asked and walked over to hug Ravonne.
“Oh,” Ravonne said and slipped into his moccasin slippers. “Has he been acting up?”
“Well, yes and no,” Dajuan said and looked at Brandon who had a frown on his face. “Teachers say that he is beginning to be talkative, albeit bright. He blurts outs answers and do not give other children a chance to reply when she clearly asks people to raise their hands to answer questions.”
“No I don’t dad. They take long to answer,” Brandon said and folded his arms. “I just try to help the teacher out, so that she can keep going.”
“See, that’s what the teacher means. No one was talking to you, Brandon. We had a chat about you being in grown folks business already now didn’t we?” Dajuan asked Brandon.
Brandon sat there silently and closed his eyes.
“I asked you a question, King B. Now you can speak and you don’t want to, but you want to interrupt your teachers.”
“I do not do that, Dad. I’m trying to help the teacher out by knowing all the answers.”
“You hear this?” Dajuan asked. “Sounds like you for some reason. He’s just a mini you,” Dajuan said, and then added, “At this time, I am not sure that’s a great idea.”
“Well, me either,” Ravonne said and walked over to Brandon. He asked his son, “Do you understand what Dajuan has been saying, Brandon?”
“Yes, but...”
“No, buts, just listen and stop answering questions in class unless the teacher calls on you. You got that?”
“Yes, Daddy R.”
“Cool, now go to your room, while your dad and I talk.”
Brandon skated out of the room, and Dajuan grabbed Ravonne and gave him a tight hug. He wore a tank top and Ravonne ran his hands along his muscular biceps. Dajuan was naturally built, but playing the piano added to the strength in his arms.
“What’s for dinner, Baby?” Ravonne asked.
“Is that all you want to know with ya greedy self?”
“Yes,” Ravonne said and kissed him. He pulled away from him and then picked up his briefcase. “I have had the worse day. It seems McKenzey is alive and running around Philadelphia dressed in drag.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Dajuan said and grabbed Ravonne’s plate out of the kitchen. “I’ll be walking around with a gun, because if he comes anywhere near this house, I am going to blast his ass. I am telling you that right now. No if ands or buts. I am not taking any chances on Brandon being kidnapped.”
“Calm down, Babe. I don’t think that he wants to kill me or harm Brandon. He is out to get Kareem and Andre for all of the drama that they had caused him.”
“You don’t know that,” Dajuan said and placed a hot plate in front of Ravonne. “Coq au vin, just for you.”
“Oh, you played chef today?” Ravonne cut into his chicken.
“Don’t try to change the subject.” Dajuan knew Ravonne like a book. There was no way he would get away from the agent McKenzey topic.
“I am not. This is good, though.” I don’t know why I even mentioned this.
“Nice, but I am strapping myself, and I am demanding that you start taking your gun with you whenever you leave the house.”
“Come on, DJ. I don’t think I am his target. He has poisoned some woman that he convinced to approach Aramis and sell him some wild conspiracy theory. Aramis had it printed in the paper, and then McKenzey killed her.”
“I saw that on the news. He did that?” Oh, I am definitely pulling my gun out of the closet. Putting that shit right in my robe pocket and will be walking around my house with it.
“Yup, and now I have to figure out what the hell he is going to do.” While I am at it, I pray that he is not out to get me and my family. I had better be on point about that because things never seemed to catch me off guard as an attorney, this couldn’t be any different.
“Okay,” Dajuan said and then winked at Ravonne. “Figure that out, and get into the bedroom, so that we can, you know what.”
“Listen to you.”
“Yes, listen to me. I waited all day for you to get here.”
“Good, as I anticipated making love to you, as well.”
33
PHILADELPHIA, HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS
Kareem sat in his cell writing a letter to Jean-Mary, the one person that he owed an explanation to for his actions. He was beaten too badly as expected after he assaulted the CO. They had been a tad nice since they had witnessed what he was capable of. The CO’s had a new level of respect for him, which made him think of the one person that he loved, respected and admired the most.
He looked at the letter’s length, a half page, and figured that although he had gotten straight to the point, he had to clear up some other things.
He read the letter back:
Dear Granny,
There are really no words to express what has happened to me and my life. What I do know is that since I chose to go down the road that I am going down I have really messed up your life not just my own. Having to worry about me, and be concerned with my general well-being is just wrong, and I am sorry. I never meant to get mixed into this crap, grandmom. I mean, the feds kicked in your door twice. Once for me and once for my brother, and that was just wrong. You could have had a heart attack dealing with this nonsense that I am involved in. I once promised to never put you through the
same BS my dad did, and now look at me, writing a letter from jail, just like him. I am wrong grandmom and I am sorry. I know that you love and forgive me, and when I get out of this mess, I am going to take care of you and this will never happen again. I promise you that. I am done fooling around with the law and police. As far as my current situation. I cannot tell you because I am in here, and they may read my mail, but just know that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and not involved with any of the lies that I am sure they are telling in the news. Yes, I was in the riot fighting, but that was only because someone hit me for no reason. Lastly, Ravonne came to see me, and he seems to think that he has a bona fide way to get me out of here. I do not belong in here, grandmom. I am so sorry, as I am nearly in tears as I write this. Please forgive me. I love you. Kareem
Kareem stared at the letter, folded it and stuffed it in an envelope. He wiped a lone tear from his eye, before he got up from the bunk, and stuck the letter in the door. He prayed that the officers would send the letter out, even if they read it. He barely sent out mail, but he had heard about how the police made other inmate’s mail disappear.
A CO stopped at Kareem’s cell and pulled the letter out of the door. He then slid it under the door.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Kareem asked. He was pissed. “I need to mail that to my grandmom, CO. I am not trying to go through this. You all win.”
“Calm down, Bezel. I am not fucking with you. Pack up your shit, the feds is coming to get you tomorrow, so I can’t send out this letter. Hell, you may be sending out word to ya folks to kidnap you.”
“Oh,” Kareem said and thought about it. The staff never let inmates that were being transferred make calls or send mail because they could cause trouble for sheriffs and marshals during the transfer. “I have nothing to pack,” Kareem said. He picked up the letter to his grandmother, tore it up, and flushed it. “I love you, grandmom, and I am so sorry,” he mouthed out loud looking in the mirror.
Last Laugh Page 8
