More Money for Good (14 page)

When Tavious came back with the key I was pretty much going back and forth from watching a show about housewives who live in Atlanta and listening to the ladies screaming at one another through the bathroom door. There was not that much difference in the two and both were getting on my damn nerves.

Tavious didn't say a word when he walked past me and toward the locked door but I did hear him huff a few times like he was agitated. Saadia called out to him as she heard the key begin to negotiate the lock. When it was open she came out. She looked around while running her hand through her hair and took a deep breath.

Joyce was standing close with piercing eyes but not close enough where she could get punched.

“You are lucky I don't press charges against your stupid ass,” Saadia told her.

“Okay, let's go,” Tavious told Saadia.

“No, we need to address this,” Saadia said. Tavious began to push her by her waist. “No, we don't—let's go. You ready, West?”

Joyce wouldn't stop. “Yeah, get her outta here, so I can take me a bath,” Joyce said. “Get all this filth off me from standing too close to her.”

Tavious was literally pushing Saadia by the waist out the door. He couldn't get out of the house quick enough.

“Yeah, right, bitch, you're the only one dirty up in here,” Saadia said back. “I'm a grown-ass woman; you don't lock me up in your house!” Saadia didn't waste any time leaving the house. She jumped in her car without another word.

 

Tavious thought about calling her on the ride back home but decided he was going to give her some time. On the drive back Tavious didn't have much to say.

“Man, don't sweat it,” I told him. “You've missed the entire revolution of women while you were locked up. Women today say what's on their mind and they make sure it's heard. There's no way you could have seen that coming. Your mother is just watching your back because, after all, Saadia is a reporter and they haven't put that case to bed yet,” I let him know.

“I get all that, man—but Ely is going to have to be dealt with.”

I looked over at Tavious as I made a left-hand turn.

“West, that fool tried to play me tonight,” he said.

“How's that?”

“When I went back to the kennels to get the key, he put one of his dogs on me.”

I quickly looked Tavious over because I hadn't noticed him acting as though he had been hurt in any way.

“No, no, I'm good. But when I walked in the office he put the dog in a ready position, to attack me.”

“So, what happened?”

“He called the dog off but not before he asked about the money again. The money that I don't have.”

“So, what'd you tell him?”

“Not much, West. I just made sure he locked that dog gate back up and got the key from him to unlock the door. After that I let him know that he should have never, ever done that to me.”

Rossi had already let it be known that he was going to continue with his incessant hustle of playing poker and taking his winnings and losings with a grain of salt. But this night his card game losses were bigger than usual. All he wanted to do was get home. His close-to-drunken stroll through the parking lot back to his BMW was met with surprise. He faintly hears hollow-sounding words in the garage of a controlled ruckus nearby.

“You're going to keep your mouth shut, motherfucka—do you understand?” Rossi overheard followed by two hard, echoing slaps and reacted grunts.

It wasn't long before Rossi could focus on the commotion. Two men were standing over a man. He was doubled over, holding his stomach, trying to find the air to answer his assailants. They were about fifteen steps away from Rossi's car.

“Seems like he don't wanna answer, Mac,” one of the men said.

Rossi could only see the back of their bodies. The men giving out the beating were standing, looking down at their victim. Without provocation they started whaling on the defenseless man again. This time Rossi could see the punches being delivered. Some of the punches were to his head. The others were flush against his body, making a thumping sound when they landed. When the men stopped to admire their body of work they chatted between themselves while the beaten man on the ground hacked and coughed. He spit out blood, too.

Rossi unlocked his car doors, which made his alarm device do a double screeching sound that echoed through the parking garage. The two men turned around and noticed Rossi, who still hadn't taken his eyes off the action.

“Hey, man, what're you lookin' at?” one of the men asked.

This time Rossi could see a bit of his face through the somewhat dark light. He was white with a full head of hair. He was wearing a suit. He had bulging eyes. Rossi only noticed because he was trying to stare Rossi down.

The other man turned away from looking at Rossi. He was black and had on a suit too. He didn't care and went back to work and punched the already-beaten man again. Then he looked back at Rossi. “Oh—you lookin' at that?” He punched him again and again while the man lay coughing. He stopped, asked for a light for his smoke dangling from his lip. His partner gave him matches. The black guy lit his cigarette himself and threw the match down on the man. After he took two puffs he whacked the guy again. “What about that, motherfucka?” the man turned and asked Rossi.

They were on their way to putting the finishing touches on their punching bag, all the while calling Rossi a nosey-ass bitch. The white man pulled the beaten man up by his arms and held him, making him an exposed punching bag for his partner. He went Thomas Hearns on the defenseless man.

Rossi had opened his car door by now and used the door as a leaning post. He was glad that he left the last shot of cognac at the bar. “Looks like he's had enough. Why don't you guys give him a break?” Rossi damn near slurred.

When they heard Rossi's words the larger man released the arms of the man. They watched him fall to the ground and they both turned to look at Rossi. Without even speaking they began to walk toward him.

“Look, I don't want any trouble,” Rossi said.

“Too got-damn late,” the smaller of the two said.

“Tonight is just not your night,” the other proclaimed.

Seeing that they continued to walk toward him Rossi bent down into his car and pulled out his pistol. Without warning he shot one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. “Like I said, enough,” Rossi repeated. Then he checked around to make sure no one saw what he did.

“Motherfucka shot me!” the little black one shouted. “Oh shit, I'm shot!” he called out. The echo he created in the garage seemed to relay three or four times. He started limping away as fast as he possibly could so Rossi couldn't cap him again.

The white guy holding his shoulder saw the blood oozing from his body and started to cry. By now it was dripping through his hand down to the ground. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “You fuckin' son of a bitch,” he repeated, trying to deal with the pain.

“C'mon, this way to the car,” the black guy yelled to his partner. “Take me to the hospital!”

Using his bloody hand the white guy pointed in the other direction, “No, it's this way, got-damn it!”

Rossi watched them limp away, licking their wounds, trying to figure out the way to their car. He placed his gun back in the car. Rossi glanced over at the man who took the beating. He was pretty sure that he would be okay when he noticed the man struggling to stand. When Rossi proceeded to get in his car to finally go home, he stopped cold when he heard the man say, “Thanks, Rossi.”

It was early in the morning—way too early—but I had no other choice than to listen to the shocking news that was being told to me. Ely had been murdered. Beaten to a pulp and left to die in his kennel. His face was so unrecognizable that when Joyce walked out to the kennel to see what was keeping him, she could barely recognize him.

Tavious along with Saadia knocked on my door with the news. Saadia found out about the murder first. She overheard it on her police scanner that she used to keep a step ahead of other reporters on the beat. When she called Tavious he didn't believe that Ely was dead and wanted to ride out to Henry County to see what was going on for himself. Saadia was able to talk him over to my place so we could figure out what the best plan of action would be for Tavious, because by this time the police probably knew everyone Ely had been in contact with over the past few hours. That wasn't good because it put Tavious at the murder scene when he went out back to get the key to unlock Saadia from the bathroom. Tavious was in deep now. If they couldn't pin him down in Amara's case they damn sure had a better chance with Ely. Without a doubt we all knew he went out to the kennel for the key and I wanted to find out every detail about what happened, so I asked.

“Just like I said, West. I went out back to get the key and he put the dog on me before he gave me the key to unlock the door for Saadia.” Tavious took a shot of whiskey and was very used to it by now.

“And after that?” I asked. Saadia was standing next to him, rubbing his shoulders.

“I already told you, man.” Tavious was already pouring another drink and looked at me hard.

“Tell me again,” I asked.

Tavious put the bottle down then looked at me then Saadia.

Saadia pushed, “Go ahead, baby, you don't have anything to hide.”

Tavious exhaled then scanned us again before he spoke. “Ely put the dog in the cage, okay? And when he came back I pushed him. I told him he had made a mistake by putting that dog on me.”

“Just a shove?” I only asked because I wanted to be clear, not because I didn't believe him.

“That's it, West. I could see the fear in his eyes. I was mad, man, but I didn't kill 'im. I just snatched the key from him and came back to the house.”

Saadia was still relieving stress in his shoulders and moved forward just enough to look him in the eyes. “Was there anyone else in the kennel?”

“I don't think so. I'm pretty sure there wasn't—as crazy as that dog was he would have found them. That dog was a real medieval son'bitch. ”

We went around and around close to an hour trying to figure out what the right path for Tavious would be. Tavious wanted to go back out to the house or even to the police and clear his name as soon as possible. I knew ultimately it was his decision, but if he did, there were a few things I didn't want him to mention: shoving Ely, or the dog incident. That alone would have given him motive, and with his record he'd be locked back up for sure.

“And don't tell them about the money either,” Saadia said.

I gave Tavious a look of “how in the hell does she know?” when Saadia mentioned the money.

His hands turn upside down toward the ceiling. “I told her, man. I mean it's long gone so it's not even an issue anymore—right?”

For the first time I truly believed 100 percent that he was whipped and the revelation almost made me grab the bottle for a little snort.

Out of the blue my doorbell rang.

Tavious looked at his watch; it was a little past five in the morning. “Too damn early for Jehovah's Witnesses,” he said. “That's gotta be the police.”

I looked out my window to see who it was. There was no movement on the street, but I saw a man on the porch, looking out toward the street with his back toward my front door. It was Rossi.

At first gance at Rossi no one could tell me he hadn't been drinking. The telltale signs were all in his speech, walk, and sloppy appearance. I had been able to keep the house at a low volume with Tavious and Saadia inside at such an early hour, but all bets were off when Rossi halfway stumbled inside. He took center stage, all the while, in a matter of seconds, accomplishing something I was trying not to do: wake Lauren.

When Lauren heard Rossi's loud voice as he greeted us, she came down into the room we were in, rubbing her eyes and gathering her robe all at the same time.

“Did . . . I . . . wake ... you . . . L-boogie . . . ?” Rossi whined and teased.

No one had to tell her he'd had a few. His eyes said it all. His smile a little more. Lauren got her bearings, looked around, and noticed the whole room of guests. She did a double take on Saadia because she was sitting on Tavious's lap, kissing his face, telling him everything was going to be okay.

Saadia picked up on Lauren's attention. “Hi, again.”

“Hey . . .” Lauren sang back.

Tavious found a way from her kisses and smiled at Lauren. He points to Saadia. “My lover.”

“Aww geez,” Rossi mumbled; then he leaned up against the wall. “We know . . . we know.”

“West, what's going on?” Lauren made her way over to me and I began to fill her in.

“Well, Tavious and Saadia came over because Tavious's mother's husband Ely has been murdered.” Rossi and Lauren comment at the same time. They wonder what happened and when. After I tell them I continue. “And we are trying to figure out the best way for Tavious to approach it since, after all, he could be the last person to see him alive.”

I could see Lauren giving Tavious the once-over. She was like everyone else, wanting to know how the man ended up dead.

“I didn't kill him . . . I swear,” Tavious said.

“Well what happened?” Lauren asked.

“They found him beaten to death,” Saadia said.

“And you know this how?”

“I heard it on my police scanner,” she said. “I'm a reporter.”

“Right. Well, if Tavious didn't do it, then he can go to the police and let them know.”

“I do that and I'm locked up for sure on my record alone. No can do, I'm not going back to jail. I need a place to lay my head.”

“You can stay with me, babe,” Saadia suggested, right before she kissed him on the cheek. There was a pause while the two whispered sweet somethings.

Lauren changed the loving mood and turned to Rossi. “And what's your problem?”

Rossi waited a few beats before he spoke. “I just shot two guys in a parking lot.”