True to the Game III (18 page)
“Or perhaps even during,” Ellington suggested.
“Sick bastard,” Cleaver chimed in.
“Judging from the amount of blood, it wasn’t something that she did on a regular basis,” Brittingham advised.
“Raped?” Davis asked.
Harmon Brittingham shook his head. “Doesn’t look like a forced entry. No pun intended. No forced entry into the apartment either.”
“She knew the perp,” Cleaver added.
Brittingham shrugged. “Apparently. It looks like the sex was consensual. I mean from what I can tell, she let the guy in, she’s not bruised or beaten, so it looks as if she voluntarily had sex. But something went wrong. No telling what made it turn bad.”
“The apartment looks like it’s been ransacked,” Ellington observed.
“Talked to the neighbors, and apparently the victim kept a pretty messy apartment,” Brittingham explained.
“Any leads?” Cleaver asked.
“Forensics are on their way. We got semen, tissue maybe, definitely skin cells, sweat, perhaps some hair. All the usual trace elements from sexual intercourse,” Brittingham advised.
“Whoever did this doesn’t give a fuck if he’s caught,” Davis observed.
“He’s probably not planning on being in town long enough to give a shit about any evidence,” Ellington said.
“All right, spill it!” Miles ordered, watching Ellington and Davis summarize a case, although he had no clue what they were summarizing.
“What?” Ellington asked.
“What the fuck are you working on that made you show up here today? And how did you come to the conclusion that this son of a bitch is planning to skip town? I want to know what you know, Detective, and I want to know now!” Miles said forcefully.
“Remember the assault on the old lady that happened last month sometime?” Ellington asked. “The really brutal one?”
Miles scratched his head as he tried to remember. “I think I do. The old woman from the projects. She was raped. Fucked in the . . .”
“Jesus!” Brittingham whistled. “Same fucking MO. You think they’re related?”
Ellington nodded. “I know they are. The girl that he was looking for when he attacked the old lady was her best friend,” said Ellington, pointing to Markita’s dead, naked body.
“Why in the fuck didn’t you say so when you first walked in?” Miles shouted. “What, is this a fucking poker game or something? We holding our cards close, Detective?”
“What the fuck does Vice have to do with any of this?” Brittingham asked.
“The girl’s husband was a major dealer who got popped. He was a Vice target. She was also a Vice target. Her new boyfriend popped her husband; he was a major dealer, and a Vice target, and then he got popped,” Ellington explained.
“Who’d he get popped by, her third boyfriend?” Miles proclaimed. “Talk about some bad-luck pussy.”
“So who are we after here?” Brittingham asked, just wanting his job to be as simple as possible.
Ellington shrugged. “I wish we knew. The only thing we do know is that this guy is a fucking nut case.”
“I want the file on this one,” Miles told her. “I want to know everything that you know, and I want to know it yesterday. I’m getting this son of a bitch off the streets.”
Two dark-suited men stepped into the bedroom. They were young, clean-shaven, well-dressed. They screamed Feds.
“And you two are?” Miles asked, not playing any more games with his crime scene.
“I am Agent Harbinger, and this is my colleague, Agent Covington. We’re from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“FBI?” Miles huffed. “What’s your jurisdiction here?”
“Excuse me?” Josh asked.
“Well, we got Homicide, Internal Affairs, and now FBI. I guess DEA and Customs will show up next, telling me that she was smuggling for the cartel. This whole thing stinks to high heaven. Why are so many noses interested in a young, dead black woman with no criminal record, no known boyfriends, vices, or any other red flags in her history? Why is the FBI here, at a homicide scene? Don’t tell me: She was kidnapped at the age of four? You heard me, why are you here?”
Josh smiled. “Was she a victim of an abduction?”
“Don’t get cute with me, son!” Miles bellowed. “What’s the FBI’s business here? I’m trying to conduct a homicide investigation.”
“We’re conducting a highly classified federal investigation,” Josh told him. “We’re going to take a look around, if you don’t mind. By the way, why did you say you had vice detectives here?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why are they here?” Phil asked Josh. He removed a notepad and pen from his pocket.
“And why is Internal Affairs here?” Josh added.
“Just leaving,” Cleaver told them. He stormed from the room angrily.
Fucking FBI. I needed a chance to search the damn place and these assholes show up. Fuck! I’ll have to come back later when the circus is over
.
Ellington and Davis headed for the exit.
“I’ll get those files to you, Lieutenant,” Ellington told him as she left the apartment.
Phil and Josh turned to each other and smiled.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on here?” Miles asked, looking at Harbinger and Covington as the room cleared out.
“Hey, we just wanted to jump-start the marathon,” joked Josh as he patted Covington on the back.
“Yeah, get ’em up and runnin’.”
M
ichael pulled up his Lincoln Navigator in front of Gah Git’s house. His mother looked somewhat tired.
“You okay?” he asked as he placed his hand on top of hers.
“Yes, son, yes, I’m fine. You gonna have to help me out this big truck you got,” Gah Git said.
“I’ll help you, Gah Git,” said Bria, hopping out and opening the door for her grandmother.
“Here, I got her,” said Michael, pushing Bria out of the way to assist his mother.
“Dag, Uncle Michael, just push me down the next time,” joked Bria.
“Come on, Mama; don’t pay her no mind.”
“That crazy child right there, is you kiddin’ me?” added Gah Git, agreeing with her son.
“Whatever, say what you want, you know who be in here taking care of you, Gah Git. Uncle Michael’s just a visitor, Gah Git. I’m the one who’s gonna have to take care of you.”
“Lord have mercy, I’ll be all tore up in here with you and your crazy sister,” said Gah Git as she looked at her granddaughter and thought of Irene, the twins’ mother, who had died while giving birth to the girls. Gah Git thought of her daughter, Irene, every day. Everybody did, but no one talked of the twins’ mother, no one really ever said Irene’s name, never. That’s how Gah Git had ended up with the twins. Gah Git brought them home from the hospital and went over to the funeral home the next day and buried her daughter. Gwendolyn’s crazy ass was too busy doing other things, like getting high, to take care of Khaleer, so Gah Git demanded the youngster stay with her. And when Gwendolyn had Brandi, addicted to crack cocaine at birth, Gah Git stepped in and took her from Social Services. Ms. Bradley, the social worker assigned to Brandi’s case, still came by from time to time just to visit with Gah Git. She had been trying to get Gah Git to foster mother some abandoned children in the system, but Gah Git had her hands full. Paula was the only child of hers who seemed to have it together. She worked at the bank as an assistant branch manager, she dated on and off, took her yearly vacations to the Caribbean, and was raising Gary, Zorian, and Avanna on her own.
Michael swung open the door as Bria held the screen door for Gah Git. Out of nowhere, the darkened living room lit up and all the family popped out of nowhere.
“
Surprise!
”
Everyone yelled in unison as Gah Git stepped through the door. Gah Git looked around the room at her family and thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. There were “welcome home” balloons and ribbons, and flowers from neighbors and well-wishers filled the tiny living room. Paula had cooked for two days and two nights, and if you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was Thanksgiving.
“Malcolm? Malcolm, is that you?”
“Yeah, Mama, they done let a black man be free.”
“Malcolm, oh, son; I can’t believe it.” Gah Git used every bit of strength she had in her and embraced her son. It had been so long since she had seen him. Tears rolled down her checks.
“I been praying, son, praying that you would come home. I’m just so glad you’re here. You just don’t know,” she said, still cradling her firstborn son in her arms.
“Yes, Malcolm, that’s all she’s been talking about: you coming home. We’re glad to see you,” said Paula, giving her older brother a hug as Gah Git finally passed him over.
Gah Git’s heart lit up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza as all her grandbabies ran over to her.
“You been sleeping in that bathtub, boy,” said Gah Git, joking with Khaleer.
“No.” He laughed at her, knowing darn well that he had been.
“Yeah, brother; good to see you,” said Gwendolyn, looking as if she had partied like a rock star all night long as she gave her brother a long embrace.
“Yeah, man, congratulations on coming home,” said Royce, extending his hand. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that his sister and Royce had a habit, a bad habit. Maybe later he would talk to her about it. Let her know that no matter what, he had her back.
“Come on, Mama,” he said, helping Michael get Gah Git over to the couch.
“Look who’s here, your grandbaby Gary,” said Michael as he moved Gary’s wheelchair over to his grandmother.
“You can’t walk, Gary?” said Gah Git as she noticed the wheelchair and was about to get upset that no one had told her.
“Of course he can walk, Gah Git. We stole that chair from the hospital and brought it home for you. So, this way, we can roll you around,” said Brianna, bending over and kissing Gah Git on the face.
“Mmm-hmm, roll me around all right. I can see you rolling me too, right down a flight of stairs.”
“Gah Git, nuh-uh, we love you,” said Bria, standing next to her sister.
“Hey, brother, we got to talk. I got some big things planned out for you,” said Michael as he patted his older brother on the back.
“Yeah?” Malcolm replied.
“Hell yeah, don’t worry, big brother; you gonna be just fine, just fine and dandy.”
Malcolm looked around the room at all his family. Their smiling faces and warm embraces and love filled him with joy. He didn’t know what to say. Everyone acted as if nothing had happened. Michael had visited him many, many times. He knew his brother had forgiven him a long, long time ago. He thought of all the time he had missed, all the time that had passed him by. He was just glad to be home. At first he was scared, but when he saw his little brother waiting for him outside those prison gates, he knew everything would be okay. He knew he’d be all right. He looked at his family, laughing, joking, eating, and sharing one another’s company. Just about everyone was there—everyone except Gena.
Gena pulled up to the motel room and extinguished her headlights. She saw Rik peeking out through blinds as she parked her car. It made her smile, and she waved back to him. She looked around the parking lot. Rik’s car was parked out in front where she could easily see it. Unknown to her, Rik and Quadir used to meet at this same hotel back in the day when they did business. Rik had chosen the motel for sentimental reasons.
Gena turned off the ignition, climbed out, and headed for the motel room with the plastic bag of money in her hand. She imagined what it must have been like to do a dope deal. All of the sneaking around, the intrigue, the secret locations, the peeking out of the windows. They acted like they were James Bond or something.
Rik opened the motel room door and embraced her tightly. “Hey, baby girl!”
“Hey, Rik.” Gena hugged him.
“How have you been?”
Gena shook her head and then burst into tears. “It’s too much, you know. I’m just going through it. You just don’t know what I’m going through.”
“What’s the matter?” Rik asked.
“Markita, my friend, something bad happened to her.”
“What’s going on?”
“She’s dead. I just found her body,” Gena blurted out. Her tears fell more rapidly.
Rik wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Gena wrapped her arms around Rik and began bawling. “And Gah Git, my grandmom, someone beat her and raped her, Rik. She’s still in the hospital. And my cousin Gary tried to save her, and the guy shot Gary, and Bria’s boyfriend.”
“Who?”
Gena shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s trying to kill me. They all said the same thing, that this guy is looking for me.”
Rik pulled her close and walked her into the motel room. He shut the door and locked it. “Gena, what’s going on? Why would someone be trying to kill you?”
Again, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
Gena shook her head. “I don’t even know what he looks like. He just showed up one day asking where I was and started attacking people.”
“But why you? Why now? Why all of a sudden? What do you have that he would want?”
Gena pulled away. “I don’t know, Rik! He just showed up. Why are you questioning me like this?”
“Gena, you offered me a lot of money when I was in jail.”
“So?”
“Is he after the money?”
Gena shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Where did you get that kinda money?” Rik asked. “And be honest with me, Gena.”
“What does it matter where the money comes from? What difference does it make?” Gena lifted the plastic bag and tossed it to Rik. “Here’s the money you asked me for.”
She turned and headed for the door. Rik grabbed her.
“Gena, did you find Qua’s money?”
“Rik, let go of me!” Gena yanked her arm away and unlocked the door. Rik pulled her back.
“Gena, do you have Quadir’s money?” Rik asked more forcefully.
“Rik, let me go! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Rik slung Gena back onto the bed. Gena fell onto the bed and rolled off onto the floor.
This shit can’t be happening again. Not again; not Rik!
She rose and charged at Rik, digging her nails into his eyes. Rik howled, pulled her hands out of his face, and backhanded her. Gena stumbled back a few steps, then raced for the door. This time, she was able to get it open before he grabbed her.