Black Lace (20 page)

Lane said sharply, “Wait a minute, Ms. Green!”

Everyone froze.

He came to stand beside her. “Look at the bottom of the box. Is that blood?”

Drake cursed.

Lacy stepped away and Drake moved to the box. The entire bottom box inside of the shiny paper was wet and red. Drake opened it carefully. The contents were filled with the carcasses of dismembered cats and dogs. Uttering a shocked curse, he turned away. Lacy came to see and felt her stomach churn.

Drake said to her grimly, “Pack a bag. You’re out of here until we find this man.”

Lacy didn’t argue.

Cruise put the box into a large trash bag. “I’ll take this to the precinct. I can’t imagine there are any clues in here but you never know.”

Before leaving the building, they stopped by Wanda’s office and told her about the package. She was appalled.

Lacy asked, “Can you check with the guard and see if he remembers who delivered it?”

“I’ll check.”

While they waited, Lacy looked at Drake. The
anger on his face was plain to see. Lacy was angry too, but she was also scared. Madison had to be the culprit, she just hoped the guard had gotten a license number.

But he hadn’t.

Wanda returned and said with disgust, “His ass was sleep! There’s no one registered on the log. I promise you, he’ll be fired. I’m so sorry.”

Tight-lipped Lacy nodded and she and the others left the building.

Lacy spent the night with Drake at the mansion.

Lenny and his boy Gerald got out of the truck and looked around the deserted construction site. Some of the big fancy houses were completed while others were nothing more than stud encased shells. Overhead the night sky was cloudy and that was in their favor; they didn’t need the moon shining on their business. Lenny grabbed one of the red gas cans from the back of the truck, and Gerald, the truck’s owner, grabbed the other.

“Let’s go,” Lenny whispered harshly.

They were both dressed in black, their faces hidden beneath ski masks. With the hoods of their sweatshirts pulled up to further mask their identity they moved across the field like shadows. This would be their second stop tonight. Lenny planned to do this last one, then go back into hiding. He’d heard about Parker’s indictment, but for Lenny, it wasn’t enough punishment. He wanted Parker’s whole life to go to hell first, and then he would kill him.

“If Madison knows where I live, I need to move until he’s caught.”

It was just before lunch the next day and Ida had come into the office to hand Lacy some papers to sign.

“Come stay with me and Herbert. You know he’s sweet on you anyway.”

Lacy chuckled inside. Ida had been kind enough to have Lacy over for dinner more than a few times when Lacy first moved to town. Her husband Herbert was a big old teddy bear and an even bigger flirt, but he loved Ida like pancakes loved syrup, so Lacy knew not to take his teasing seriously. “You sure it won’t be any trouble.”

“We’d love the company, and you won’t have to worry about Madison. I’m not bad mouthing the mayor or Walter but that place you’re living in is too big to be trying to protect somebody. Single family house like mine is easier to lock down and secure.” This was Ida the former Marine talking now.

“That makes sense.”

“So can we expect you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Tonight?”

“You can ride home with me.”

“Okay.”

That evening Lacy, Ida and her husband Herbert, and Walter McGhee were watching TV in Ida’s living room after a fine spaghetti dinner.

Two news stories made Lacy sit up and take notice.
One had to do with the mayor’s speeding ticket on Sunday. The anchors treated the story with amusement, wondering if the mayor would be driving that fast to his wedding to his new lady friend. Lacy rolled her eyes. Ida grinned.

The next story was far more serious. It began with a night shot of a huge fire at a partially finished suburban subdivision. Fire departments had to be brought in to fight the blaze and it took hours to get it under control. According to the reporter a similar fire was reported a few miles away just hours later. The smell of kerosene was strong at both sites and the authorities were guessing arson. What drew Lacy’s interest the most was when the reporter said, “Both sites are owned by Reynard Parker, currently under indictment for charges relating to his trucking company. Mr. Parker was unavailable for comment.”

“Wow,” Lacy whispered.

Ida nodded. “You got that right.”

Parker was unavailable for comment because he had nothing to say, except words that couldn’t be printed or shown on the news. His preliminary hearing was tomorrow and his lawyer told him to be prepared for a lot of protestors in front of the courthouse. Parker knew he was going to be the scapegoat for all the city’s ills and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make it stop. The governor stopped taking his calls the day the indictment came down, and none of the other politicians whose pockets he’d lined and greased over the years wanted to have anything to do
with him now, either. He had one ace up his sleeve however, the only one he had left. Fish. If he gave him up, the prosecutor might be more inclined to do a deal. He planned to tell them that Fish killed Wheeler and the Curtis broad on his own and that he, Peterson, hadn’t known anything at all until Fish confessed after the fact. It was crunch time. All bets were off. Friendship and loyalty didn’t mean a thing when you’re looking at hard time. It was every man for himself now and Parker was looking out for Number One.

Lacy, Walter and Ida walked over to the courthouse to watch the preliminary hearings on the Parker case. It was a beautiful May day. The breeze was warm off the river and the sunshine coated the water like a blanket of shimmering diamonds. They’d opted to walk because the ladies both needed the exercise.

They heard the chanting two blocks away and by the time they reached the corner the words, “Parker! Parker! Traitor To His Race!” were loud and clear. People carrying picket signs were marching up and down the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, but they were just one part of the large crowd. Mounted police were visible, as were TV cameras from the local affiliates. People wearing T-shirts sporting environmental slogans and logos were handing out literature. Lacy saw men and women wearing BAD T-shirts carrying other signs, but they were all chanting: “Parker! Parker! Traitor To His Race!” He had dumped poison in his own neighborhoods and people wanted his head.

Walter opted to wait outside and enjoy the sunshine and the show. Lacy and Ida had to show ID in order to get past the ropes separating the protestors from the court steps. With each passing minute the crowd seemed to grow and the chanting grew stronger. Lacy hoped Parker and his lawyer were already inside, because if they weren’t the police could have a situation on their hands.

Lacy was a bit surprised to see how packed the large courtroom was; there wasn’t a seat left vacant. She spotted a small gaggle of TV reporters and journalists in the back taking notes while they interviewed someone. Because of the backs of the reporters she couldn’t see who it was, but when they parted and the man stepped away, Lacy’s almost fell over.

Ida whispered in a concerned voice, “What’s wrong?”

“My ex.”

Ida snapped around. “That’s Wilton Cox. You were married to him?”

“Yeah.” She wondered why he was here? Then answered her own question. He was here because the cameras were. Forget the issues. Her ex was always looking for a photo op. Lacy now understood the circus outside. More than likely his people had put that together. The ringmaster was in town.

The proceedings began shortly thereafter and Lacy studied Reynard Parker as he stood beside his White female lawyer. He was well over six feet tall and was almost as wide. He had an average face and looked to
be in his mid fifties. He was dressed well though. That was no Sears suit he was wearing. The fit looked tailored and the white shirt and expensive tie added to the illusion of a wealthy and powerful businessman.

Lacy had been avoiding looking Wilton’s way. She figured that if he didn’t see her she wouldn’t have to be polite and speak to him, but when she glanced over, his eyes were waiting and they were filled with surprise and a smile. Lacy inclined her head but that was it. She turned her attention back to the case.

The person representing the EPA was one of their criminal investigation agents and he testified to what was found in the barrels dumped on the southwest side back in April. “Flammable used solvents, Your Honor. Chemicals like toluene, methyl ethyl ketone and xylene. All highly dangerous and toxic to both humans and the environment.”

Some people in the audience booed loudly. Shouting other folks took Parker’s name in vain.

The judge banged her gavel and called for order. In the end, Parker was bound over for trial. The date was set for September.

Lacy tried her best to leave the courtroom quickly to avoid having to talk to Wilton but with all the people inside it was impossible. When she and Ida finally exited the courtroom he stepped right in front of her.

“Lacy? Is that you? Look at you. You’re all grown up.”

“Hello, Wilton. This is my friend, Ida Richardson.”

“Friend as in buddy, or friend as in significant
other?” he grinned, eyeing Lacy like she was a popsicle on a hot day.

Lacy didn’t need a reminder as to why she disliked him so much but the comment brought it home. “What brings you to town?” As if she didn’t know.

“The Parker case, of course. It represents the struggles all inner city residents face when polluters target our neighborhoods. My being here will bring national coverage to the city and this problem.”

Lacy knew that he lived in a barely integrated suburb outside of Atlanta, and that no one was dumping anything in his neighborhood. “Well, have a pleasant stay. I have to get back to work.”

“I was thinking we could have dinner.”

Lacy began to walk to the door. She could feel Ida fuming beside her. “I’m thinking we won’t.”

“Aw Lacy, come on. For old times’ sake?”

She stopped and studied him. He was now over forty-five, balding, and no longer slim. The lines of his once-handsome dark face were starting to break down and soften. The suit was a good one. Not as good as Drake’s or Mr. Parker’s but way better than one worn by a man who really lived in the neighborhoods Wilton claimed to be championing. In spite of all his talk of unity, and the protests he led, Wilton was as fake as a porn star’s boobs. There were a whole lot of things she could say to him, but since none of it was nice, she said simply, “Enjoy Detroit, Wilton. Let’s go, Ida.”

Outside the circus was in full swing. The protestors
were still marching and chanting and it took her and Ida a few minutes to clear the steps. Walter walked up and asked, “How’d it go in there?”

Before Lacy could respond, Ida fumed. “He wanted to know if Lacy and I were lesbians!”

Walter looked confused and he almost laughed but Ida’s fuming seemed to keep him in check. “Who?”

“My ex. Wilton Cox.”

That made Walter stop. “You were married to Wilton Cox?
The
Wilton Cox.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did he think you all were lesbians?”

Lacy said, “Because he’s a jerk. I’ll explain later.”

Walter shook his head, and they started for the office, but when Lacy looked back at the courthouse she saw Wilton standing on the steps watching them.

That evening Drake joined the
Richardsons for dinner. Afterward he and Lacy sat out on the back porch. The early spring tulips and daffodils in Ida’s large tilled garden were on their last legs, and were being replaced by the daisies and early roses of mid-May. “You know your ex is in town?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“He paid me a visit this afternoon. Said he came to lend his support to the issue of urban dumping.”

“Pompous ass.” Wilton had been on Lacy’s mind most of the day. He represented a time in her life when she was neither strong nor confident.

Drake smiled. “Not one of your favorite people.”

She turned to him. “He wanted me to get breast implants after we married. Said I looked like a boy.”

Drake leaned over and kissed her, then slid an
arousing finger over her breast. “I like them just the way they are.”

Her anger over the old memory faded under the pleasure that instantly arose from his touch. “I do too. Wilton thought he and I should have dinner.”

“And you said?”

“No.”

“Good. We Vachon men can be jealous.”

“Oh, really?”

He kissed her again. “Very.”

“Good to know.” Lacy could feel herself melting. She loved him so much. Unlike Wilton’s fake behind, Drake was as real as her heartbeat.

Drake had his back braced against the porch column, with Lacy snuggled into his side. The peace of the evening was as close to perfect as it could be. He would love to come home to something like this at the end of each of his hectic days, he thought. “When do you want to get married?”

She looked up into his eyes, studied him for a moment, then asked, “Is that a proposal?”

“Yep,” he said confidently.

Lacy laughed. “Then you need you to ask me formally and properly before I can answer.”

He grinned and met her eyes in the fading light. He stood up, took her hand, moved down to the step below her and got down on one knee. Looking up into her serious face, he said softly, “Lacy Green, I want to spend every waking moment of the rest of my life with you. When you’re away I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I’ve never ever felt this way about a woman be
fore, so will you do me the honor of being my wife? Till death do us part?”

His words held so much emotion and moved Lacy so much that she couldn’t speak. After a moment she nodded and replied in a tone that mirrored his, “I would love to have you as my husband, Drake. Till death do us part.”

He grinned and stood. Filled with his love for her, he asked, “May I kiss the bride?”

“As often and as long as you want.”

Their kiss permanently sealed the agreement, then Drake led her back into the house so they could tell everyone their news.

That night after he went home, the still floating-on-air Lacy called her mother. Valerie Garner Green was in Heathrow Airport waiting for a flight back to the States. After the initial hellos, Lacy said, “Sit down, Mama. Got something to tell you.”

“I’m down. Go ahead.”

“I’m getting married.”

Val gave such a great shout of joy, she must have startled some people nearby because Lacy heard her say, “My daughter’s getting married!”

Lacy laughed and shook her head.

Val and Lacy spent the next forty minutes talking and laughing.

She then gave her mother an update on the Madison case. “No, they still haven’t found him,” Lacy said, “but I’ve been assured they will.”

The happiness surrounding the wedding news had been dampened a bit by the Madison story and Lacy
didn’t want the conversation to end on a note of worry. “When can you and Daddy come visit, so you can meet Drake?”

That put the perk back in her mother’s voice. “I’ll be back home tomorrow, and after that I’m free.”

“Okay. Well, soon as you get home and rested up, give me a call and we’ll pick a date. I want you and Daddy here as soon as you can get here.” And she did. She couldn’t wait to share the man she loved with her parents.

“I will definitely do that. Now, it must be pretty late where you are, so go on to bed.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And Lacy?”

“Yes?”

“Keep yourself safe, baby. Okay? I don’t want to have to come up there and turn that city out.”

Lacy chuckled. “I will. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

They clicked off.

Lacy put the phone down and immediately realized she’d forgotten to tell her mother about Wilton being in town, but decided it didn’t matter. Her mother cared even less about him than she did. Smiling, she pulled the quilts up around her ears and closed her eyes.
What a day.

The next evening, she and Drake were driving around Belle Isle, the 704-acre island park in the center of the Detroit River designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, who’d also designed New York City’s Central Park. It
was her first time seeing the pastoral location, and she was surprised to learn from Drake that during the days when the French founded the city back in the 1700s, the Isle, as the residents called it, had been called Hog Island and home to legions of wild pigs. “Are there any left?” she asked, watching the river flow by them.

Drake laughed. “If there were, they were put on a barbecue pit a long time ago.”

They parked the car in a quiet spot and he turned off the engine. Instantly, the silence overtook them, and Lacy felt a peace she’d been needing for a long while.

He looked her way. “Want to get out?”

“Yes.”

Outside, surrounded by nothing but the water lapping gently against the shore and the high-pitched call of a lone gull, they held hands and set off down the sandy water’s edge. There was a bench a few feet away, so they headed toward it, then sat. Nothing was said because no words were needed.

Drake finally broke the companionable silence. “Brought you something.” He reached into his shirt pocket. “Close your eyes.”

She started to protest, but he kissed her on the nose and said softly, “Close your eyes, woman.”

A smiling Lacy did as she was told.

“And keep them closed until I say different.”

Her eyes closed, she gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”

He took her by the hand, and she felt a gentle pressure as he slid a ring onto the third ring finger. “Now, you can open them.”

Lacy opened her eyes, and the sight of the beautiful sapphire ring sparkling against her skin left her speechless.

He grinned. “Well? Say something.”

“Oh, Drake. This is beautiful.”

“A beautiful ring for a beautiful girl.”

She pulled him to her and gave him a long loving kiss that knocked him for a loop.

When he could speak again, he told her, “If you want a traditional diamond—”

“Oh, no. I plan to keep this one. Look at the deep color.”

Drake looked at his ring on her finger and said, “You know, my grandmother once told Myk and me the story of when my many greats grandfather Galen married his wife Hester. He gave her a fabulous string of sapphires to match her blue hands.”

Lacy stared. “Blue hands?” She studied him skeptically. “I don’t know about this family of yours. You’ve told me some pretty wild stories.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “Her hands were blue because she was a slave on an indigo plantation, and working the dye turned your hands that color.”

“Oh,” Lacy said, understanding now. “Okay, so what about the sapphires?”

“I just wish they were still in the family so I could give them to you. Hester was supposedly a dark-skinned honey like you.”

Lacy grinned. “That’s sweet, Drake. What happened to them?”

“She sold them right after the Civil War to help pay
off Galen’s debts. I guess he owned a big-time shipping business in New Orleans, and the war just about wiped him out. Gran said some of the other jewels he gave her were sold to help build schools for the freed slaves.”

“Sounds like a very kindhearted woman. She must have loved him very much to sell her jewelry like that.”

Drake smiled back. “And he worshipped the ground she walked on. Gran still has some of his letters to her.”

He circled his arm around her, and Lacy asked, “I wonder if our many greats grandchildren will talk about our marriage?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Something to think about, though.”

“Yes it is.”

“Maybe I should start writing you love letters?”

“I’d like that.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m too much of an e-mail junkie.”

“So am I.”

They both laughed. Lacy looked at his ring. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“Thank you for wearing it so beautifully. I need to get you back to Ida’s.”

“On your way to the airport?”

“Yep, Malcolm is waiting at the mansion now, probably wondering where the hell I am. I’ll call him in a few minutes.”

He took her in his arms. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

“I will. You take care of yourself, too.”

The threat of Madison stood between them, but they didn’t address it; they didn’t want to. Instead, he kissed her again, this time so passionately that when he reluctantly pulled away, Lacy was left a bit woozy.

He held her against his heart and whispered, “Will that hold you until I get back?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He gave her a wink and they walked back to the car.

When he drove away from Ida’s Lacy began missing him immediately.

Across town, Reynard Parker’s world had gone to hell, and he had the two burned-out construction sites to prove it. The police had no suspects, and neither did he. He’d made plenty of enemies on his ride to the top, but none that carried kerosene cans. That it might be Fish had crossed his mind. Parker hadn’t seen him in days, and his absence was troubling only because Parker couldn’t point the finger at him if he wasn’t around to take the blame. His attorney had an appointment with the prosecutor next week to try and work out a deal. If Parker had his way, Fish would be going down.

Meanwhile, the dogs were still sniffing around his landfills looking for Wheeler; the IRS and the EPA had subpoenaed all of his financial and business records; and the bitch calling herself his wife served him with divorce papers last night during dinner. It pleased him that she wouldn’t get a dime of settlement, however, because finding any money in his ac
counts after the feds got done was going to be as hard as picking up raindrops.

Fish was pushing a broom in the city employees’ parking lot. Wearing the generic blue coveralls that he’d worn in a janitorial job at the airport a few years back, and some dark glasses to hide his signature eyes, he was as faceless as the pavement he was sweeping. He knew that few people paid any attention to workers like him, and in a city the size of Detroit, there were myriad contracts with cleaning companies all over the place. For the past week no one had challenged his right to push the cigarette butts, gum wrappers, and discarded water bottles into his dust pan and deposit them in the trash can he’d taken off the third level to legitimize his persona. He even had the old ID badge he’d used at the airport clipped to the front pocket of his uniform. No one ever came close enough to read what it said. All they saw was a man wearing ID and sweeping, and that’s all he wanted them to see.

Pretending to be someone else was one of Fish’s ways of getting the information he needed for whatever he was running. He’d robbed senior citizens while pretending to be everything from a sewer worker to a pastor at the church around the corner. Claiming to be a cable man checking the line of a neighboring home had gained him entry into suburban homes so he could case them for future B&Es. The information he’d needed on the Green woman had been the kind of car she drove and where she lived. Being bent over his broom and acting uninterested in the comings and
goings of the people walking to their cars had given him that information. After learning what she drove, it had been easy to park across the street from the lot, wait for her to exit, drive by him, and then slide in behind her into the traffic. He’d been careful to stay a few cars back, and because she lived so close to her job, the tailing had quickly paid off.

Lately, though, she’d been leaving work with the fireplug woman with the gold Cadillac and a tall menacing-looking brother in a leather coat, and she hadn’t gone home to her apartment. Any ideas Fish had of jumping the women in the lot died once he got a look at the man. He walked and looked like security, and Fish was sure he was armed. He preferred a blade for its grace and efficiency, but knew that a knife was useless in a shootout.

But time was running out. Each tick of the clock brought him closer to a fate he didn’t want. If the police had no witnesses to the Curtis murder, they’d have a harder time proving he’d done it. Lacy Green’s death would raise suspicions, of course, but by then he wouldn’t be around and the investigation would become just another cold case. Today he planned to follow the gold Caddy when it left the lot and see where it led. If Green was sleeping someplace else, he’d find a way to get her, because it was time for him to get out of Dodge.

After work Ida, Lacy and Walter were heading to Ida’s home when Ida said, “Ladies and gents, I think we’re being followed.”

Lacy leaned down and looked into the mirror mounted on her side of the car.

Walter, in the backseat, said, “You sure? I don’t want to turn around and maybe scare ’em off.”

“Pretty sure. He’s hanging back, but he’s been with us ever since we left downtown. Now, maybe it’s just some dude going home too, but every time I change lanes, he does too.”

“What’s he driving?”

“Beat-up green van. Commercial type.”

“Okay, get off at the next exit and let’s see what he does.”

Ida got over into the far right lane. “Here he comes,” she said with her eyes raised to the mirror. “He’s behind a Focus and an old Firebird.”

They climbed the exit, and the van got in behind a couple of cars and followed them off the freeway. Ida turned right onto Van Dyke, passed Kettering High School, and the tail did the same. “Shall I take him on a slow trip to China?”

“Yeah. Do you know where the closest precinct is?”