Alibi (21 page)

“Another body?” asked Simon, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Yeah, looks that way. This kid Sticks, I don’t know.” Dizzy shook his head in silence, thinking of all the possible repercussions.
“I think we need to get someone down there to get the girl.”

“Go get the girl, get her back up here so she can testify.” Simon paused for a split second. “Leave him down there, buried
somewhere down there. You understand, Dizzy.”

“Say no more.”

“No more said,” said Simon, looking at his friend.

“Shit, it’s hot in here. You better come on before your ass falls out.”

Simon Shuller watched as Dizzy strolled out of the sauna. He closed his eyes and lay down on the wooden bench.

F
uck, it’s dark as shit out here. Ain’t no lights and shit. Nigga could come up missing out this motherfucker for real and
never be found again. You should slow down.”

“Man, ain’t nothing out here. Stop whining. It’s just darkness, that’s all. Ain’tcho never been down South before?” asked
Sticks, looking at Rayford Johnson, whom everyone referred to as Ray J, a simple nickname after his own birthright. Sticks
didn’t know much about him, except that he was a hustler and he hustled for Simon Shuller across town. He knew of the guy,
but Sticks had never associated with him and knew very little about him, his people, and had not a clue where he came from
or why he was there.
I could have handled this situation myself. Shit, I been handling everything. I don’t know why they sent this clown-ass nigga
along for the ride in the first place.

They crossed the Virginia state line, and as at every state line, they passed the welcome sign on the side of the road. “Welcome
to Tennessee.”

“You got the map?” asked Sticks.

“Yeah, right here, let me see.” Ray J picked up the map, turning it once in the upside position. “Looks like we stay right
here on I-81, to Interstate 40 West, that’s gonna run us right on into I-640 West and straight on into Nashville.”

“All right, all right then, I-40 West, I got her address for you to find too. You can find her address on that map?” Sticks
questioned, checking out Ray J’s map skills.

“Yeah, of course, a map can always get you where you going.”

From out of the darkness of the night, a flash of movement darted out in front of Sticks’s car.

“Watch out!” screamed Ray J.

Sticks quickly slammed on the brakes, his lights blinding the fawn frozen still in the middle of the road. Sticks cut his
wheel hard to the left. His right front end struck the animal, spinning his car in a 180-degree arc, as he lost control for
a mere second, the car running off the road and into a ditch.

“What the fuck was that?” screamed Ray J, completely shook.

“I don’t know, man, I think it was a deer or something,” said Sticks, spinning the right-side tire as he tried to get out
of the ditch.

“You gonna dig us in a hole and we ain’t never gonna get outta here. I told you to slow down, you should’ve listened,” said
Ray J, looking around at the nothingness of the deserted countryside. The vast land stretched as far as the eye could see,
but yet there was only green grass and heavily wooded areas of different types of oak and maples traveling alongside the interstate.

“Come on, let’s get out and take a look,” said Sticks.

Is this nigga crazy? I’m not getting out this car, it’s too damn dark out here.
“Hey, just go on back there and see if you can push her and I’ll give it a little gas,” said Ray J, sliding right over to
the driver’s seat, ready to put that motherfucker in reverse and run Sticks’s ass over.
He lucky I don’t have the girl yet, ’cause that’s just what I’d do too, run his dumb ass over. Now we stuck out here in the
middle of bubble fuck nowhere in the god damn dark with his dumb ass crashing into deer and shit.
It was scary, pitch black “can’t see nothing but the twinkling of the stars in the sky” dark out there. Tennessee was backwoods
at its finest, home of Davy Crockett and the birthplace of country music.

Sticks put his hands on the trunk of the car and began to push as Ray J stepped on the gas pedal, causing the tire to spin
and dirt to fly up, hitting Sticks in the face and soiling his clothing.

“Hey, stop, man, you fucking me all up back here!” he huffed at Ray J, who put the car in park.

“What’s the matter?” Ray J hollered out the window.

“Man, you got dirt flying everywhere back here. Wait a minute, the ground is way too soft,” said Sticks, examining the hole
the spinning tire had dug itself into. Just then car lights could be seen traveling a half-mile’s distance down the road.

“Look, maybe we can get some help out here.”

“Shit, with our luck fuck around and Jason pull up out this bitch, then what? KKK have us tied up out this motherfucker and
won’t nobody ever know and won’t nobody ever find us.”

“Yo, wait till we get back, man. I’m telling everybody yousa big-ass scaredy cat.”

No you not, you won’t be getting back to tell nobody nothing,
thought Ray J.

A
re we still on for next Saturday with your parents?” asked Vivian, already thinking of the perfect tan dress for dinner at
Le Bec Fin with Tommy’s mom and dad.

“Oh, shit, I almost forgot, my parents are coming this week!” he exclaimed.

“Um, yeah, how can you forget that? So, I take it we’re still on for dinner at Le Bec, right?” she asked, tossing cut tomatoes
into a bowl filled with lettuce, cucumbers, and shaved carrots, while tossing her blond hair away from her face at the same
time.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re still on,” mumbled Tommy, his mind now thinking of who he could possibly hire to clean up his apartment.
God knows, if his mother took one look at his place in the condition it was in, he’d never hear the end of it. He could hear
her now: “Dear God, Tommy, look at how you live. If I didn’t know better I would swear a wild beast lives here and not my
son. I didn’t raise you to live like this.” Then his father would add his two cents. “Margaret, please, leave the boy alone,
he’s a single man, he’s living just fine.” They would go back and forth and Tommy would never hear the end of it.

“Matty moved back home, you know,” said Tommy as he set two places at the table.

“Are you serious, your parents let him move back in their house? Do you think they should have done that under the circumstances?”
she asked, biting a sliced cucumber from out of a tossed salad.

“Probably not, but something tells me I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Is he okay?” said Vivian placing the salad bowl on the table and setting a large spoon next to it.

“You know, I don’t think Matty will ever be okay. But if he can stay clean, who knows,” said Tommy, growing silent thinking
of his brother, of the last time he saw him. It was Tommy who picked him up from Castle Rehabilitation after a drug overdose
almost took his life seven months ago.

“You okay, Tommy? You look like you’re out in space. Earth to Tommy, hello in there,” she said, waving her hand in front of
his eyes as she bent face to face with him, stared into his eyes, and kissed his lips softly. “Do you hear me, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Viv, I’m just thinking.”

“Well, come on, think and eat. I got all your favorites, salad with Italian dressing, chicken parmigiana, with melted mozzarella,
thin spaghetti and homemade gravy, and fresh cannolis for dessert that I picked up from your Uncle Vito’s bakery.”

“No way, you went down to Uncle Vito’s?”

“Yeah, I did, just for you, Tommy, just for you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I worry about you, Tommy,
seriously.”

“I know Viv, I know. I’m okay. I’m keeping it together. It’s all good, no need to worry.”

“What about work, what’s going on with the Somerset Killer case?” she asked, letting him go and making her way back into the
kitchen.

“Viv, you’re killing me here. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“The newspaper said that trial had to be postponed because the witness whose identity was being withheld was missing.”

“Yeah, another headache. Viv, really, I don’t want to talk about work. I just want to have a nice, quiet night at home with
you.”

“Okay, fine, we don’t have to talk about it.” She paused for a moment. “I got the biggest break in one of my cases today.
Seriously, Tommy, huge break, remember the bank case and everything, all those tedious hours of watching bank surveillance
video? I swear you won’t believe it. Finally, a real person, can you believe it. Some girl was stupid enough to walk into
a bank, take fifty thousand dollars out, and use her real name. It’s unbelievable. We got her real name, her real address,
everything, and get this, guess what the best part is?”

“Viv, you know what, I don’t care what the best part is. I told you I don’t want to talk about work, not mine, not yours,
not anything. Can’t we just pretend for once that you’re a secretary instead of an FBI agent? And how about we can pretend
that I’m a former police detective, being as Captain Dan is going to have my badge if… I don’t even want to talk about it,”
said Tommy, shaking off thoughts of the worst outcome possible. He couldn’t help thinking about the murders he and his partner,
Merva Ross, were unable to solve. While they had captured Bernard Guess and had him in custody awaiting trial, there was someone
else out there leaving a string of dead bodies behind, and it all connected to the Somerset murders.

“Tommy, I’m sorry. Really, come on, sit down, let’s just eat dinner. We don’t have to talk, okay?” said Vivian, not wanting
to upset him. Just as she sat down and asked him to pass the salad dressing, her pager went off.

“See, we can’t even have a quiet dinner at home, just the two of us, Viv.”

“Yes, we can. Let me just check in. It’s Chambers.”

Vivian picked up the phone and dialed Chambers back. She waited, the phone rang twice, he picked up. Tommy continued with
dinner. Digging into the plate of chicken parmigiana, adding gravy to his spaghetti, he listened to a one-sided conversation.

“I knew she’d show up. They always do. I’m coming in. I want to make the arrest. I’ll be there.”

“A quiet meal together, just the two of us?” he questioned as he watched her hang up the phone.

“Tommy, my case, we’ve located this Fothergill character. I’ve got to go,” she said, gathering her hair and pulling it back
into a ponytail.
Did she just say Fothergill? Can’t be, can’t be the same person.
She ran into their bedroom and grabbed the Brics carryon bag that she kept in the corner of her closet, packed and ready
to go for great-escape emergencies such as this.

“You said Fothergill?” he questioned slyly.

Tommy stood still, watching her spin herself around her apartment like a Tasmanian devil. Within less than three minutes,
she was at the door, Brics bag, purse, and lightweight jacket all in hand.

“Yeah, she cashed in on a fraudulent check and walked out of a bank with fifty thousand dollars.”

“What’s the name again?”

“Fothergill, um, like Daisy something or other. Here, kiss me, and don’t be mad, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Mad, are you insane. I can’t fucking believe you,” he said, delighted, a complete personality change from the grumpy, disengaged
boyfriend she had been having dinner with. He picked her up and kissed her. “Viv, she’s the missing witness we’ve been looking
for, the unidentified witness from the newspaper headlines. You don’t know, Vivian, you just saved my ass. Come on, let’s
go, I have to bring her in, she has to get back here to testify.”

“Wow, I thought you didn’t want to talk about my work,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Are you nuts, I want to hear about your work every day from now on, baby. Oh, my god, Vivian, I fucking love you. You are
the best, babe, the best, you know that? I could marry you right now,” he said, grabbing her head and kissing her face.

“Well, aren’t you the excited one. Come on, let’s go get your
star
witness and then we can go look at rings,” said Vivian, closing and locking her door behind them.

“Viv, I said I could marry you right now, I said nothing about later.”

“Whatever, Tommy, whatever. Remember, um, don’t you need your witness?”

“So, you want to shop for rings?”

“Do I?” she said, smiling again.

D
aisy was busy in the kitchen making her first attempt at preparing Billy a home-cooked meal. He said his favorite was meatloaf
and mashed potatoes, and that he could eat it every day of his life and be content. It was a simple meal for a simple man.
However, it was turning out to be rather difficult for her to prepare. Poor Daisy had never attempted to cook for herself,
let alone for a man. She had cut her finger twice trying to cut the skin off the potatoes, so instead, she was boiling them
skin on.
We’ll figure out how to get the skin off later or maybe we’ll just have mashed potatoes and skin peelings.
Sounded like a good plan to her, besides, her momma always said all the vitamins and nutrients were in the skin anyway. The
meatloaf would have turned out perfectly, had she not still had it in the oven cooking. A little dry, but ketchup would fix
it.
Billy won’t know the difference.

Just then she heard him knocking at the door. Quickly she wiped her hands on a towel and opened the door, letting him come
inside from the long hallway that led to the staircase.

“Hi, Daisy Mae,” he said, sure and confident.

“Hey, Billy, come on in and make yourself right at home. Would you like some lemonade? I made it myself, fresh squeezed.”

“I’ll take a glass, thank you kindly,” he said as he sat down on the sofa and reached for the remote. “You mind if I change
this channel? It’s football Sunday, Daisy Mae.”

“I know, Billy, you tell me all the time. Go on ahead and change the channel,” she said, removing her pot of boiling potatoes
from the stove.