The World in Reverse (16 page)

“No,” Johnson said, looking over at Tho
mas. He hadn’t even told him about that part of the investigation.

“And we recovered the jump drive?” Ma
gnelli asked.

“Yes.” Johnson wouldn’t look at him. “There was another file on the drive when we got it back. It was a WMV file of something, but it was corrupted.”

“Are we trying to recover that information?” Amway asked.

“Yes,” Johnson answered reluctantly. “But we haven’t gotten anywhere yet.”

“Call our friend over at the FBI and see if they can help us out,” Amway said, writing down a number. “Tell him that I need this favor done quietly.”

Johnson took the number. “Yes, sir.” He pushed the issue. “The fact that we met with Twist that morning and asked for his help and then he was killed that evening with this thing in his stomach, makes us certain of the conne
ction.”

“It’s circumstantial at best,” Amway said, looking over at Thomas. “So, what makes you think a cop is involved?”

“The perp, DeMario Washington, was planted at the trap house. When he was arrested, he asked for Agosto specifically. Before he…umm…got put on his ass…he told Agosto that he had done what he came to do. Get him off the case.”

“And you think DeMario was planted at the crack house by a cop?”

“Yes,” Johnson answered directly.

Amway raised a brow. “Why?”

“Someone knew that the place was going to get busted. That someone would have had to be a cop. The NARC unit had been planning that bust for a minute.”

“So, it’s presumably someone on the NARC Unit?” Amway asked disgusted.

Johnson turned up his lip. “Could be.”

The thought disturbed Amway more than he showed. The one thing that he hated most in the world was a dirty cop.

“So, Thomas, Steele or Hamilton?”

“
Hamilton,” Thomas answered. “This is still a homicide.”

Amway looked over at Magnelli. “Steele for you?”

Magnelli shook his head. “The fact that Twist and Cane are involved only drives home the point, don’t you think?”

Amway raised his brow and looked at Joh
nson. “And you want to work alone?”

“I could get more done,” Johnson said. “And what if Agosto is cleared?”

Magnelli chuckled facetiously. “Did you see the video, boy?”

“Last time I checked, the MPD didn’t hire boys,” Johnson snarled at Magnelli.

Amway liked Johnson’s spunk but he also knew that he didn’t need another hot-head let loose on the city without supervision. “Johnson, I have a meeting in twenty minutes with Councilman Herbert Ferris. You know the name?”

Johnson frowned. “Yeah, I know the as
shole. He was the one who suggested the four percent cut in the first place. Plus, he’s been gunning for Agosto’s head.”

Amway nodded. “Well that same asshole has also demanded a civil rights violation investigation from the FBI on Agosto. Needless to say our brother in blue has enough problems of his own just based on the public fit that Ferris has been throwing to prolong his fifteen minutes of fame. Even if Agosto doesn’t get fired…he’s off this case.”

Johnson shook his head in disgust and looked down at the newspaper.
What ever happened to protecting your own?
It sounded to him like they were preparing to stone Agosto in the court square.

“
Hamilton worked for Agosto at some point, right? He had him undercover working the Medlov investigation.” Amway looked over at Thomas to confirm.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas replied reluctantly.

“That case went nowhere, simply because the Medlov clan has more money than God.” Amway rolled his eyes. “We were dipped in shit and handed over to the lawyers to feather us every single time that we went after Dmitry. Thank God he finally left the city to go and wreak havoc somewhere else.”

Magnelli
cleared his throat and tried to act like it disturbed him to have to give his report. “He’s back actually, sir. Dmitry and several members of his family arrived back in Memphis about two days ago on a private jet.”

Amway hit the table. “Can anything else go wrong?” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Several seconds later, he re-opened them. “Alright, that bastard will have to wait. It’s going to take a lot more than one detective to infiltrate that shit anyway. I want all eyes on helping Johnson solve this case. We give him all resources that we have and all access. I’ve got the mayor, the governor, the city council, the county commission and citizens of Me
mphis on my ass. I need answers and I need results now.” He looked at his watch. “Hamilton is a no go, Thomas. I just thought about that. I don’t want any close relationships that can be further scrutinized in the public eye. Let’s go with Steele. Bring her in and get her up to speed today. You and Magnelli’s lieutenant can work on that.”

“On it sir,” Thomas answered quickly.

“So, I was brought here for what?” Magnelli asked.

“You’re staying on for this Ferris meeting. I figure that I need to combat one asshole with another,” Amway said, standing up. “Alright men. Let’s go.”

As Johnson stood up to leave, Amway walked up to him. Offering his hand, he nodded. “Good work, Johnson. Keep focused. We’re counting on you.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnson said with a nod. He felt a card in his hand as he shook Amway’s.

“Give that to Agosto for me, will you?” Amway asked in a lowered voice. “And after that, I don’t want you to see him anymore until this shit is cleared.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnson said, putting his balled up fist in his pocket. Quietly, he left the office right behind Thomas. As he opened the door, he saw Councilman Ferris waiting in the common area.

It was going to be a long day.

15

Five days had gone by since the police d
epartment had relieved Nicola of his duty. The Securities Squad was in the middle of a very thorough investigation, digging back in Nicola’s career and private life from the moment he assaulted the perp until the moment he became a police officer.

In the meantime, he was adjusting to home life. Normally, he always had something to do, somewhere to be. Now, he was at home with his four sons and his wife.

Every news station in the city had been to their home begging for an interview, a statement, an answer to just one of their questions; reporters from the press were hiding out in bushes to get a photo of him as he lurked quietly around his home taking out trash, cleaning the lawn and nailing down windows. The unwelcomed and unwanted traffic had gotten so bad until he had to put up a sign in the front yard warning that trespassers would be
shot on sight
. It did little to build confidence in the community around him. The public saw the sign as his continued use of cruel, brute force to protect his own private interests.

Nicola saw it as the only way to keep people from just popping up on his doorstep with cameras to shove down his throat in the name of good journalism. Plus, he couldn’t be sure that someone posing as a reporter might not be someone sent to kill him or his family.

Since they had come home a few days ago, Nicola had gutted their original security system and put another in its place. He had also put in cameras of his own throughout the entire house where he could monitor everything. Huge motion lights had been placed around the perimeter of the house and the few friends he had left on the department sent cars to heavily patrol the area.

Essentially, they were living in a prison. Although it was a nice prison with all the trapping of luxury, it was still a prison.

But he had to keep things tight. He was both prisoner and warden.

As expected, Ivy was going crazy. She had promised not to go into the office for a few days and work from home remotely, but sitting around watching every local station in the city and most of the major networks across the nation cover her husband’s story with no regard for the truth was making her insane.

Ivy reminded him constantly of her profession. She knew PR. She knew crisis communications. She had begged him to release a statement. He would not.

She had begged him to do one interview with one of the stations in town she had a good relationship with. He would not.

She had asked him to call in and do talk radio with the most controversial man in radio, because she was certain the public would see his side. But Nicola refused.

He told her every time that she asked that he was waiting on the investigation to be over. According to him,
the police had a gag order until then
. But Ivy felt that by the time that this was all over, his silence would have destroyed his image and any chances of a career forever.

She pleaded with him daily, he said no to all of her suggestions and even a few of her d
emands.

The kids had been taken out of summer camp and were confined to the house also. Just the thought of the perp making good on his promise to hurt the children and then leaving them in a position to be vulnerable was simply out of the question for Nicola.

They would stay where he could protect them at all times.

Buried in buttermilk biscuits, salmon
croquettes and bacon at the moment, he sloshed around the kitchen swinging cabinets open and closed while the boys argued at the table.

“I didn’t eat my booger,” Madison yelled at his twin brother. He slammed his small fists against the table. “I don’t eat boogers. It’s gross!”

“Yes, you did,” Adamo said emphatically. His eyes narrowed like his father’s and brow furrowed. “I saw you eat it. You munched it up and then swallowed…” He quickly played out the gross action with his finger, sticking it into his mouth. Nicola had always said that Adamo would be a cop when he grew up. He was always the one that Nicola could depend on to give an even, accurate account of any situation - how something was broken, what happened to a toy, who did what. The boy seemed to be unable to tell a lie.

Their little brothers laughed at them as they became more heated, but Nicola ignored them all. With is ear buds pressed tightly in his earlobes he fixed six plates of breakfast food, deaf to the war brewing at the table. He had learned not to get enthralled in what he called kiddie politics.

“Take it back
booty
head,” Madison demanded, throwing a fork across the table and hitting his brother in the forehead.

“Ouch! I’m not taking it back, but I am tel
ling Mom, cootie breath. She told you to stop eating your boogers.”

The smaller twin boys laughed again. They recited the words in unison. “Cootie breath, booty head.” With a naughty snicker, they pointed at both of their big brothers, gazing out past their heavy, curled lashes and green, spa
rkling eyes. It was exciting to them to watch the Titans of their childhood fight for dominance.

“Well, if you tell Mom that, then I’ll tell her that you snuck and watched Cartoon Network after bedtime,” Madison snarled. “And you’ll be in as much trouble as me you little snitch.”

Adamo sucked in his frustration and thought hard for a moment. Finally, he squared in on his brother. “Fine, then we’ll both get in trouble, but I’m telling,” he promised.

Pulling the ear buds out of his ear, Nicola looked over at the table and surveyed his sons. “What’s going on here?” he asked, knowing without knowing that something was wrong.

Both boys pointed at each other and began to tell.

“Adamo snuck and watched Cartoon Ne
twork after bedtime,” Madison yelled first.

“Maddy won’t stop eating his boogers,” Adamo screeched.

“Save it for your mother,” Nicola said, putting the plates in front of the boys. “Eat up. You’re too skinny.”

“We’re not skinny,” the youngest said. His voice sounded like a mouse as he squeaked at his father.

Nicola cut a smile and looked over his boys. The sight of them, carefree and happy made him proud.

Despite the war brewing outside of his door, his boys still loved him. They were still happy, still unaware of how loathed their father had become.

Grateful for the moment, he ran his hand over each boy’s head. “You are skinny sticks ,boys. You won’t be men until you’ve eaten.”

The sound behind him let him know that Ivy had entered into the kitchen. He turned around and looked over at her. She was wearing her normal loungewear of pink running shorts and a green Nike t-shirt with her hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Are you off your conference call?” he asked.

She looked in the refrigerator for a bottle of water and cut her eyes at him. “It’s ridiculous that you won’t let me go to work.”

“You are working,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’ve got my own career to think of, Nic
ola.” She slammed the door and turned to walk back out of the kitchen.

“I’ve cooked your favorite,” he said, dra
wing her back in.

She stopped in her tracks, stomach burning to its core.

“I'm not hungry,” she lied.

Nicola walked up behind her and kissed her shoulder. “Are you sure about that?” He ran a hand over her stomach. “If you’re not hungry, maybe she is.”

Despite her many frustrations, Ivy couldn’t help but smile. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere this morning, Nicky. I want to go to work.” She stopped. “Scratch that. I need to go to work.”

“Is it so bad being here with us?” he asked playfully.

“Horrible,” she said sarcastically.

“You go back tomorrow. There is no need to pout today,” he said,
pulling at her arm. “Now come eat with me and the boys. We miss you. You’ve been locked in that damned room working all day.”

Unable to deny all of her men at the same time, she turned on her heels and followed her husband to the kitchen table where
the boys waited.

As soon as they sat down at the table by the beautiful morning view of blue skies and chir
ping birds outside of the bay window, Nicola’s phone dinged with a text.

Ivy raised a brow immediately, forbidding him to even look at it. He hesitated at first, his gut telling him that it was important. But the urgency of her snarl made him question if he would survive the aftermath of digging in his pocket for it.

“Let us pray,” Nicola said with a smirk.

The children and Ivy bowed their heads and clasped their hands together.

Nicola began, “Lord…”

The phone dinged again.

Nicola sighed. “
Please
Lord, bless us for this food that we are now about to receive…”

The phone rang.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

“Nicky!” Ivy snapped.

He put up a finger. “Baby, just hold on one minute.” He reached down and pulled out his phone. He was about to turn off the ringer when he saw the text. “DeMario’s mother and lawyer are holding a news conference at The Med right now. Turn on your television.” It was from one of his friends, Cory, in his old unit.

“Damn it,” Nicola said, standing up. “Where is the remote?”

“Probably in the counter drawer where it always is,” Ivy said, frowning. “What’s wrong?” She turned in her chair to watch him, her fingers clasping the back of the chair.

“The perp is having a news conference,” N
icola growled, walking over to the counter. He opened the drawer and pulled out the remote. Turning on the television in the nook near the table, he leaned against the counter and smacked his lips.

As soon as the television clicked on, DeMa
rio’s mother appeared on the screen standing beside her lawyer while her son sat in a wheelchair. The live shot was a horrid reminder of what the media was capable of.

“Look at him up there like a fucking vi
ctim,” Nicola said, feeling his blood boil.

“Oooh, Daddy,” Adamo said, shaking his head. “You’re cursing.”

Nicola turned up his lips into a smirk. “Thanks for stating the obvious there, chief.”

“Shh!” Ivy said, leaning into the television. “Turn it up. I can’t hear.”

“It’s all lies anyway.” Nicola pressed hard down on the remote with his thumb taking out his frustration on the button.

DeMario Washington’s mother was barely 16 years older than him. Standing at the podium with her lawyer with crimson red streaks in her well-curled mane and false eye lashes that extended nearly an inch out from her face, she nervously read from the paper that had been prepared for her.

“My name is Marquetta Washington. My son, DeMario Washington, was a victim of police brutality suffered at the hand of the Memphis Police Department,” she opened. Her voice quivered as she spoke. Grabbing the microphone to pull it closer, she cleared her throat. “He was beaten within an inch of his life by Sergeant Ni…Nick-cola Agusta, a Vice detective from one of the investigative bureaus ran by the Memphis Police Department under Director Amway.”

Nicola bated an eye. “Well, maybe it’s not me that
’s in trouble here. We should be going after Agusta, whoever the fuck that is.”

Ivy rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Marquetta took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her eye. “He beat him because of bad intelligence from another police officer that somehow he was the Baby Boy killer, when in fact, he just wanted to share the information that he thought might help solve the case. After a ten minute beating caught on tape by onlookers, my son, DeMario suffered broken ribs, broken teeth, a cracked jaw that had to be wired, multiple abra… abrasion to the face, head and chest. He has a hairline fracture to the skull and a bruised kidney.”

Ivy looked back at her husband and frowned. “Did you really do all of that?”

Nicola sighed. “I thought I did more. I guess I’m losing my touch.”

“There are reports that my son was carrying a weapon, but he was not. There are reports that he somehow intimidated the Sergeant with information about his family, but my son had never met him before the beating. It comes down to a man in power taking advantage of the disenfranchised because of his skin color and his socioeconomic status.” She looked up from the paper. “And we want justice.” She looked back down at the paper and gained her composure. “How many of our sons, husband and fathers have to be nearly killed by white officers who hate young black men simply because they wear their pants low or listen to a certain type of music? Why are our children not safe from the very men and women who are trained to uphold the law when no one else will? Sgt. Agusta is a prime example of what the broken system looks like. Letting him walk away without the loss of his job and his fre
edom for his crimes will be an injustice to all of us. We are humans, not animals. Our children are people, and they deserve to be protected from bigots who look to make examples out of them just because they can’t comp...competently do their jobs and find the right people responsible for their cases.”

“Oh no she didn’t just…” Ivy said, eyes na
rrowed on the screen.