No Such Thing as a Lost Cause (21 page)

Alphonso cast me a withered frown that said, “What the hell are you bringing that
up for?” But I’d already gotten her attention.

She squinched up her eyes and struggled for the second time in as many weeks to place
me.

“It wasn’t under the best of circumstances,” I admitted, having inexplicably chosen
that moment to become scrupulously honest.

The reminder did the trick, and suddenly the bat was headed my way. Alphonso casually
reached out and ripped it out of her grip, only inches from my face. He tossed it
onto the porch and grinned.

“Took you long enough,” I muttered.

Sherese lunged for her weapon, but Alphonso was quicker. He caught her by the waist
and yanked her off the step. In return, she spit and clawed at his face, just missing
his eye. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek.

“God damn it.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back.

“Sherese,” I broke in. “We’re not here to hurt you, so knock it off. I just wanted
to bring your kids some toys. That’s all.”

She stopped squirming and craned her neck beyond Alphonso’s massive arms to the stack
of boxes on the porch.

“Why’d you bring this shit?” She thrust her chin out, defiant, yet curious. “I can
take care of my kids just fine. We don’t need your charity.”

“We could all use a little charity, every once in a while. Look,” I said, my voice
softening, “I know you blame me for Mario’s death. And I know his being gone must
cause you a lot of pain.”

Her face contorted into a heartbreaking expression of grief and vulnerability. “You
don’t know nothin’,” she screamed, and yet there was no heat to her words now.

Alphonso let her go, and she slumped down on the steps. She wrapped her arms around
her bare knees, and I watched in silence as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You don’t
know nothin’,” she repeated, more to herself than for my benefit. And suddenly it
hit me. Sherese was grieving, all right. Only not for Mario.

Alphonso and I exchanged awkward glances. “Well,” he said, taking charge. “We’ve got
to be going.”

“Sherese,” I offered. “Would you like some help taking these things into the house?”
I wish I could say I was driven by compassion, but the truth was I had to pee.

Ignoring me, she lifted her head and wiped the snot from her nose with the corner
of her sleeve. Then she hoisted herself up by the crumbling wood railing and walked
into the house. Alphonso shrugged and gathered up the presents. I took the diapers
and followed him in.

There was a table lamp near the door, and I switched it on, illuminating the small
interior. Fast food wrappers littered the living room rug. A pile of unwashed clothes
sat in a corner, smelling of sour milk. A beat up, old fan hung precariously from
the window. Someone had jammed a crayon into the ancient, rusted blades.

Sherese pointed in the direction of the bathroom and flopped down on the couch. A
half-eaten bologna sandwich and a scoopful of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese sat on a plate
on the coffee table in front of her. The cheese had long since congealed, turning
it a crusty brown.

She lit a cigarette and leaned back, staring into space. Alphonso stood at the doorway
and pulled his phone from his pocket. He raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed something.
It looked like “Hurry up.”

I walked toward the bathroom and nearly tripped over the toddler. He was asleep on
the floor in the hallway, sprawled on his back. A tiny bit of baby drool seeped out
of the corner of his mouth. I peeked around the corner and spied his sister, curled
up on a an unmade mattress in a small, airless bedroom. They deserved better. Then
again, so did their mom.

When I got back to the living room, Alphonso was on his hands and knees. He’d taken
a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and was now putting together the hobby horse. I
had a thought that made me smile, but if I verbalized it, he’d probably kill me.
Alphonso would make a great dad.

There was nowhere to sit but the sofa, so I pushed aside a fat, paper bound manual
to make room for myself. I glanced at the cover. It was a GED prep book. Was Sherese
studying for her high school diploma?

I was about to ask her, when her eyes filled up again. She brushed the tears away
with the back of her hand. “He didn’t deserve to die. Not like that,” she stated,
flatly.

“I’m sorry about Mario,” I said, just to be polite. The truth is I wasn’t one bit
sorry. Mario was a festering sore on the universe, and Sherese and the kids were better
off without him.

Sherese’s head shot up. “You think I’m crying over that asshole?” She snorted, as
if she simply couldn’t believe how naive I was. “That man was too dumb to live. He
made my life miserable. If Donte hadn’t of killed him I would’ve.”

“Then who—” I let the question hang in the air, as something else caught my attention.
The GED book had fallen open onto the floor. I bent down to pick it up and saw two
words written on the inside flap. Calvin Doyle.

Holy cow. Sherese and Calvin Doyle?
Man, I so did not see that coming.

Sherese took the book from me and rubbed her finger lightly over his name. She spoke
without anger. Only a deep sadness. “Cal thought I was smart. Smart enough to get
my high school diploma. Maybe even go to college. Sometimes he’d come around when
Mario wasn’t here and we’d just talk. He was nice to me and the kids.”

Alphonso finished putting together the hobby horse and stood back to look at his handiwork.
The newness of it looked incongruous in the dingy apartment. “Okay, that’s all done.
Well…”

He gave me the eye and cocked his head toward the front door, but I wasn’t ready to
leave. Not when things were just getting interesting. I shook my head in response.
He sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. “I’ll be outside.”

The screen door closed behind him, and I turned back to Sherese. Maybe I shouldn’t
have pried, but she really seemed to want to talk. Either that or I was just being
nosy. “Did you meet Cal through Donte?”

Sherese nodded. “Donte. What a worthless piece of shit. He met Cal when he worked
for the ambulance company. One day they came over to talk to Mario. They had some
business they wanted to do. That was before Mario started using so heavy. But even
then, he was never too bright. Donte could talk him into doing any fool thing. You
know what I’m talkin’ about?”

Having checked out the photos on Donte’s Facebook page, I knew exactly what she was
talkin’ about. “Was Cal the one in charge of the dog fighting business?” Maybe I’d
feel better about the way he’d died if I could blame him for something truly despicable.

Sherese stubbed out her cigarette in the middle of the corroded Mac n’ Cheese. “Hell,
no. Cal wasn’t into that shit. He was always gettin’ on Donte and Mario to stop. He
didn’t think it was right what they did to them dogs and didn’t want nothin’ to do
with it. He even give my kids a puppy. It was a real sweet little thing. Had a heart
on its butt. My daughter called him Lovey. Dumbass name if you ask me, but she insisted.”

I looked around. “Where’s Lovey now?”

Sherese lit another cigarette. “Dead, probably. One night Donte and Cal got mad at
Mario for getting’ high all the time and fucking up their business. They beat him
senseless and then took the dogs away. Mario got so desperate for drug money he took
the puppy and set him in the trunk of his car, figuring he’d make a few bucks by trunking.
That’s what he was doin’ the day you shot him.”

I was so caught up in Sherese’s story it took me a full minute to connect the dots.
Popeye was her family pet. It served no purpose to mention his fate. Instead I asked,
“Sherese, you said Cal wasn’t involved in dog fighting. But now you say he was mad
that Mario was fucking up their business.”

“They was in another business together. And before you ask me, I don’t know nothin’
bout it. All I do know is it was some big damn secret that was supposed to make them
rich. Cal promised to take me on a cruise when the money started coming in.”

She paused for a moment. Then, “Cal and Donte hated that Mario was high all the time.
I heard them talking one night when they thought I was asleep in the bedroom. Cal
said he was sorry he’d ever got started with Mario. And if the boss found out, they’d
all be dead.”

And now they all were. Or pretty near. “Sherese,” I said, as an idea worked its way
through my brain, “The police believe Donte killed Cal. Do you?”

“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t put it past him.” She stared down at the food encrusted
dishes, lost in thought.

After a full minute of silence I figured I’d outstayed my welcome. “Well, I guess
I should be going, now.” I started for the door, but she called me back. Her voice,
devoid of rancor, was surprisingly soft and girlish.

“About them toys you got my kids? It was nice and all. But you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to.”

Sherese shook her head. “I mean you don’t have nothin’ to feel guilty about. I know
you had to shoot Mario. He would’ve killed you, otherwise.”

I had no idea how much I’d needed her absolution until she offered it. “Thank you
for saying that.”

She lifted herself off the couch and walked me to the door. Her eyes cut away from
me as if she were embarrassed. “What’s your name again?”

“Brandy.”

“Brandy. I know Cal did some bad things, but he was good to me.”

I don’t know why, but I felt really bad having her say my name. It was like we were
friends and, somehow, I was letting her down.

“Sherese, if Donte killed Cal, the cops will get him. And if he didn’t, they won’t
stop until they find out who did.”

“See?” she said, chin upturned. “That’s the difference between you and me. You believe
it.”

I didn’t want to tell her how wrong she was.

*****

I found Alphonso slumped down in the Hummer, half asleep. He opened his eyes when
I knocked on the window and he rolled it down just enough for me to poke my nose in.

“You planning to let me in?”

“No.”

“Please? Hey, I could drive if you’re too tired.”

“How’re you going to drive this thing? You can’t even see over the dashboard.” He
popped the lock. “Get in,” he grumbled.

I ran around to the passenger’s side and hauled myself up. “Look, I’m sorry I took
so long. But I couldn’t leave her. Not with her being so upset and all.”

Alphonso shook his head. “You’re such a pushover. The woman tried to bash your skull
in, and you can’t do enough for her.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr… Pony …Put-er-together-er.” Okay, totally lame, but it had
been a big day.

*****

I woke up the next morning, naked and entwined in Nicholas Santiago’s arms. Funny,
I hadn’t gone to sleep that way.

It was after midnight when Alphonso had dropped me off. Nick wasn’t home yet, and
I was feeling restless. Adrian and the puppy were sacked out on the couch in Nick’s
office. I did a cursory snoop through his mail, figuring if he didn’t want me sifting
through his personal belongings, he would hide them better.

My logic wasn’t completely unfounded. In a moment of weakness, I’d warned him about
my overactive curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’. I trust you.”

“But I just got through telling you why you shouldn’t.”

He’d responded with a beatific smile. I know you, Brandy Alexander. And I trust you
to behave exactly the way you do. If you’re privy to something I’d rather you didn’t
know about, that’s my fault, not yours.”

In my mind, that’s practically permission.

“Good morning,” Nick whispered in my ear. “When I came home last night you were dead
to the world.”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I popped an Excedrin P.M.”

“Living dangerously, eh?”

“You could say that.” I raised the covers and peeked underneath. Nick was wide awake
in every sense of the word. “I don’t seem to be wearing anything. Did you have your
way with me last night?”

“If I had, drug or no drug, you would have remembered.” His hand reached out to caress
me as he gently nudged his knee between my legs. “Speaking of which…”

I repositioned myself to accommodate him. “Does this count as exercise?” I asked.
“Because it would save me a trip to the gym.”

In response, he got up on his knees, grabbed my legs and threw them over his shoulders.
His smile was borderline wicked. “Consider me your personal trainer.”

Half an hour later I scratched the gym off my
to do
list.

Nick rolled over onto his back and leaned his head against the backboard. I tucked
in under his arm, my head resting on his chest.

“So,” he said, and his heartbeat quickened marginally. “I heard you had a little adventure
last night.”

“How did you—oh. Alphonso. When did he call you?”

“From the car. He said you and Sherese had a real heart-to-heart.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“It’s not a requirement, Angel.”

“No. I want to. I went over there because I felt bad for her and the kids. But after
talking to Sherese—I don’t know. I have a weird feeling about this, Nick. I think
there’s more to Calvin Doyle’s murder than what I’ve assumed to be true.”

“Do you have anything concrete to go on?”

“Not much. She mentioned the guys had been working for someone else. And they didn’t
want him to know Mario was causing trouble.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just stirring
things up because I’m bored, or I’m trying to avoid thinking about gang bangers coming
after me.”

“Trust your instincts, Brandy. They’re among your strongest assets. Talk to me.”

I told him how Sherese had met Calvin and that they were close. “I don’t exactly know
what that entailed, but he was nice to her in ways nobody else ever was.”

“Until you came along.”

I ignored that and continued. “We were right about Donte meeting Cal at work. But,
according to Sherese, Cal wasn’t a part of the dog fighting ring. That was strictly
a cousins thing. Well, them and the charmer who threatened Roger King.”