Sugar & Spice (10 page)

“Don't worry about it,” she said without a change in expression.

“Musta been good,” I quipped.

“Real good.”

“Your first brotha?”

She smiled. “Why? Would it bother you if it wasn't?”

“Nope.”

“Then, yeah. It was.”

I wanted to ask her a thousand questions, but I didn't. I wanted to know why she had suddenly chosen to step over the color line. Not that it mattered. I was just curious. I wondered if it was something she had always wanted to do, but never ventured out until then. My friend seemed to like a lot of black culture, black music, black lingo. Maybe that's why we're best friends. But if I asked her why, it might put her in an awkward position and strain our relationship. And that's the last thing I wanted. So, I decided to leave it alone. What relevance did it have anyway?

“Guess who called me last night,” I said, changing the subject.

“Who?”

“Kortney Malone.”

Kelly frowned. “What the hell did she want?”

“Did you see
Headline News
this morning?” I asked.

“No. What did I miss?”

“When we left Sarah's house, Season Chambers set me up good. She asked me if Sarah was involved with Perkins and Blake. And you know how misleading questions like that piss me off.”

Kelly nodded. “Phoenix, what did you say?”

“I said something about Sarah's murder being brutal. Asked her if she even knew if her family had been notified. That's when she dropped the hammer on me. Told me that she didn't mention anything about Sarah being dead.”

“What?”

“Yep. I had told everybody that Sarah Lawford was dead before her family had been notified. Right there on television. Live and in color.”

“So Kortney called to chew you out?”

“Yeah, but I handcuffed her before she had the chance. Made her
behave by mentioning the lateness of the hour. You know how Southerners are about being courteous.”

“What did she do? Get quiet?”

“Yep. Then she called me off vacation and told me to report to her.”

“Kinda dodged a bullet, huh?”

“Yep.”

Norrell Prison, built in 1920, looked like a castle. It was surrounded by fifty-foot walls made of gray cement. I could see armed guards in the towers that overlooked the courtyard. We got out the Stingray and started the long trek to the entrance. As we walked, we discussed the Sarah Lawford case.

“What do you think the bullwhip is all about, Phoenix?” Kelly asked. “Is it strictly for punishment? Or does he get some sort of sick sexual pleasure from it?”

“I'm not sure what to think, Kelly. If he was getting sexual pleasure from the whipping, why rape the women?”

“Humiliation?” She paused. “It could also be another form of violence.”

“Hmmmm. Maybe he thinks the victims should be humbled before they're punished,” I said. “If that's true, why the chain saw? That would be the third form of violence committed by the killer.”

“So you think the murders could be some kinda ritual that involves the number three in some way?”

“At this point, we can't rule out anything,” I said.

We finally reached the gate. The guard asked us for ID. We showed her our credentials and she told us to follow the yellow arrows to the captain of the guards' office, where we would have to surrender our firearms. I heard the door slam shut behind us. There was such finality to the sound of it closing. Suddenly I was glad I was only visiting.

“Kelly,” I said. “I think we would be better off not trying to figure out his ritualistic reasoning. Right now, we're just guessing. We don't have anything solid. Once we get a look at the forensics report, we'll have something to go on. But for now, we're at his mercy. He gets to go on killing until we gather enough facts to lead us to an arrest.”

“Don't cha just love crime-fighting?” Kelly asked sarcastically. “We won't be able to stop this bastard until he's killed more innocent women.”

The yellow arrows led us through a set of depressing gray painted corridors. We saw an inmate dressed in gray dungarees mopping the floor. He stopped working for a second and stared at us lustfully.

“Hi, lover,” Kelly flirted. “We're looking for the captain of the guards' office. Are we going the right way?”

The man smiled broadly. “Yeah. Captain Callahan's office is right around the corner.”

I whispered. “You can't help yourself, can you?”

“Nope. I love men, Phoenix. I like the way they look at me. Makes me feel sexy and desirable. Tell me you don't like the way men look at you.”

I remained quiet. What woman doesn't want to be thought of as beautiful and desirable by the opposite sex? We turned the corner and saw Callahan's office. The door was open. Callahan was just hanging up the phone. He had a scowl on his face, and didn't bother to stand up. He just sat in his leather swivel chair, frowning at us, rocking in a slow deliberate cadence.

“Agents Perry and McPherson to see Salaam Khan.”

“Let's see some ID,” Callahan barked.

“Having a bad day, Captain?” Kelly smiled. “That tends to happen when you get caught distributing drugs.”

Callahan stood and walked around to the front of his desk. “For the last time, produce some ID, or get the hell outta my prison!”

We whipped out our credentials. He took them out of our hands and stared at them for what seemed like five minutes. “Put your firearms on the desk.”

We complied.

“Let me tell you two something,” Callahan said, staring at Kelly. “I
don't give a damn what you heard. None of my officers had anything to do with the warden's death. That had to be somebody else. It wasn't us.”

“So then you're admitting you did the warden's wife,” Kelly quipped.

I laughed. Kelly had a way of getting on people's nerves quickly. It was a gift. She could turn a man on or off instantly with a few choice words just to get his reaction.

“You fucking bitch!” Callahan blared.

“And…loving it.” Kelly smiled. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Captain of the Guards. This is a federal investigation. You don't tell us what to do. We tell you. Now, get Salaam Khan and we might not lock you up in your own prison for impeding the pursuit of justice.”

Callahan picked up his phone and hit a button. “Send prisoner number 32569645 to my office immediately.”

Salaam Khan entered Captain Callahan's office ten minutes later. I was reading his file. His name used to be Dwight Valentine. He was five nine, solidly built and clean-shaven. Looking at the photo the police took of him when he was arrested, you wouldn't be able to recognize him today. He was wearing a wet-looking curl in the photo. Now his hair was short and neatly trimmed. I could tell by the way he stood in the doorway, chest out, shoulders back, that he was a very proud man. He had educated himself, earning a master's degree in world history and another in sociology. If ever a man had reformed himself, this man had.

After serving four years of a twenty-year sentence, Valentine changed his name though he never converted to Islam. Khan had been a former pimp, but was in for felony murder. He had been strung out on heroin and foolishly agreed to drive the car during a jewelry store heist. The manager sounded the alarm and was killed. Although Khan hadn't killed anyone, being involved earned him twenty years at Norrell.

“Captain,” I said. “We need to speak to Mr. Khan alone. May we use your office?”

Callahan nodded. As he walked past Kelly, he frowned. It always amazes me how effective the good cop-bad cop ploy works on just about everybody, even cops.

“Have a seat, Mr. Khan,” I said, showing him genuine respect. “Looking at your record, I admire what you've done for yourself.”

“Thank you,” he said. “What's this all about? They tell me you two ladies are FBI agents.”

He looked Kelly up and down as if he were sizing her up and smirked almost unnoticeably.

“What?” Kelly smiled.

“Sure you wanna know, Ma'am?”

“Yeah.”

“No offense, but a few years ago, I would've had you working for me. Man is still so lost that he would reach deep in his pockets for a gem like you. I'm just glad I've put that life behind me.”

“I'm glad you did, too.” Kelly laughed. “I might have taken you up on the offer.”

I cleared my throat. Kelly's personality is usually flirtatious and jovial. That's one reason I like her. I would have taken Salaam Khan's reflective words as an insult. Kelly just goes with the flow.

“Mr. Khan,” I began. “Nelson Blake told us that you would be the man to talk to about the warden's murder. What can you tell us?”

“I can tell you that Norrell Prison is a haven for criminal activity, not a penal institution. Even now, with all the heat of the investigation into the warden's murder, it's still business as usual here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean the gangs still run the prison because none of the guards have been removed. They no longer have a lab, but drugs are still coming in. The place is still a cash cow. And when all of this blows over, they'll set the lab back up. The prisoners will be singing “Happy Days Are Here Again.” “

I frowned. I thought it strange that not much had changed, but I wasn't there to fix the problem at Norrell. I was there to solve a couple of murders. “Who had the most to gain from the death of Warden Perkins?”

“Captain Terry Callahan. Word on the wire is that he was sexin' the warden's wife. The warden found out about it and confronted him. Callahan didn't bother to deny it. He even told Perkins that if he wanted him to stop bangin' his wife, he wanted a bigger cut. Truth is, Callahan is the one who brought the warden in on the deal with Nelson Blake. Blake
and I are best friends. Grew up together. He used to visit me before all this began. At the time, Callahan was being squeezed by his ex-wife. He's got alimony and child support payments that all but wipe out the check he makes.”

“Are you concerned for your life?” Kelly asked.

“No. Most of this stuff is going to come out anyway. Plus Blake won't allow anything to happen to me. Even if something did happen to me, somebody needs to shut Little Babylon down.”

“How does Sarah Lawford tie into this?” I asked.

“Who?” Salaam questioned.

My cell rang. “Excuse me a second. Agent Perry.”

“Phoenix, this is Kortney Malone. Get over to 1169 Cobblestone Drive. Senator Hoffman's daughter-in-law has been murdered. Same MO as the warden and Sarah Lawford.”

Season Chambers was in front of the Hoffman house giving a live report when Kelly and I arrived. Our eyes met as we drove past. Season smiled triumphantly. I felt my temper starting to flare up. I didn't like being made a fool of. Truth be told, I had done it to myself. I could have simply said “no comment” and walked across the street. But I had to open my mouth and insert both my feet.

There were so many bureau cars, police vehicles, and media vans in front of the house that we had to park nearly a block away. It was too hot for our FBI windbreakers so we displayed our credentials on our belts and walked toward the Hoffman house

Season Chambers had just finished her report when we got to the house.

She came over to me. I expected her to be as conniving as she was the night before at Sarah Lawford's place, but she wasn't. She was a totally different person. No claws. No fangs. Perhaps I misjudged the young reporter when she smiled at me. But still, I couldn't help being suspicious.

“Agent Perry,” Season began. “I apologize for what I did to you last night. That was unnecessary and it was wrong. You had just seen the remains of your neighbor and I ambushed you on live television. Can you forgive me?”

Skeptical, I looked at her. My incredulity was unmistakable, I'm sure. “Why the sudden change of tactics?” I asked.

“Because this is the third woman who has been raped and mutilated,” Season said. “We've got a bonafide serial killer out there. No woman is safe.”

“Three? Is there a woman I don't know about?” I asked Season. I didn't tell her that Sarah had been number two. But someone had. The last thing we needed was for reporters to know that there had been three women killed in the D.C. area with the same MO.

“C'mon, Agent Perry,” Season said dryly. “I have my sources. I know what happened to Kathy Perkins and Sarah Lawford. I also know what happened to Taylor Hoffman. Do you really think the murder of a senator's daughter-in-law is not going to get out?”

“What do you want, Ms. Chambers?” Kelly asked.

“Just to help in any way I can,” Season replied.

“Fine,” I said. “If we think of a way that you can help, we'll let you know.”

I was troubled by what I saw when I walked into the Hoffmans' bedroom. Detective McDonald and his team were already collecting evidence when I said, “Stop what you're doing. The bureau is taking over from here.”

First, I saw the usual looks of disdain that accompanied any hostile takeover like this. The attitude of DCPD was typical. They hated when we took over an investigation in progress, especially when they knew we would probably need them later. McDonald glared at me as he and his homicide team left the area. I mouthed “Sorry.”

This crime was different, yet it was the same. I noticed right away that there were blood patterns splattered on the walls. It looked like the victim's extremities were thrown against them.

“What do you think, Kelly?” I asked.

“Whoever did this was pissed, Phoenix.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “I'm wondering where Terry Callahan was last night. And could he have committed this crime to cover the others? This is the only one to have these kinds of blood stains, Kelly.”