Hot Flash (20 page)

“So, where does all of this leave my sister? Will Jesse kill her?”

He stumbled on the trip back to the couch. “No. He won't kill her, but he'll mess her up. He's obsessed with her.”

“Jesse isn't capable of love.”

“I said he's obsessed. Hasn't got a damn thing to do with love.”

“He already tried at the Vineyard,” I said, unable to find a smooth place in my mind to settle.

Laughton's raised eyebrows registered a glint of surprise before he said, “M, please shut up and listen to me.” He sat down again. His stare burned through to the backs of my eyeballs. “Carmella was Jesse's girl. She was everything to him. But Jesse's crazy and badass jealous. One day he accused Carmella of messin' around on him, and it got really ugly. She had enough on him to put him away, so he'd been shooting her up awhile with drugs to control her. I couldn't stand seeing her keep coming back for more of his drugs and abuse. But still, I didn't know she'd ripped Jesse off until the next day.”

“. . . of a pound of heroin and two million dollars,” I said, almost absentmindedly.

“You knew about it?”

“Not then. Reece just told me. What would Reecey do . . . How could she do anything with two million dollars without me knowing?” No sooner had the words escaped my mouth than my thoughts traveled to Nareece's expensive house in Milton, how I didn't really know John's occupation, the exclusive private school the girls attended . . . “Where was I? How'd all this get by me?”

I gagged on overlapping images flashing in front of me, spoiling Laughton's beautiful couch with vomit. Laughton rushed to the kitchen and returned with a wet cloth and a glass of water for me. He leaned over and tried to wipe my face. I slapped his hand away. He put the cloth and the water on the coffee table in front of me and sat down.

“This isn't easy, M. I didn't . . .”

“Didn't what? Think it was important to tell me you had a fake identity? That you're Jesse's brother? Or that Jesse might try to kill my sister? What, Laughton?”

“I didn't even know you were related to Carmella until a few weeks ago! Remember? Carmella was in
my
family back then. And she wanted to hurt Jesse because he treated her like shit and wouldn't let her go. So she took the two million, destroyed a stash of heroin and coke, and split.” Laughton snatched his glass off the coffee table and went for another drink. “Her dumb move was going back home. She had to know he wasn't just going to let her get away.”

“She was barely sixteen, Laughton. Did she even have a choice about anything? And the three men who almost killed her, were you one of them?”

He shot me a hard look that melted almost immediately. “I can't believe you would even ask me if I was involved.”

“It was twenty years ago. You were someone else. You
are
someone else.”

He hesitated, then said, “It was Jesse, Wade Taylor, and a cat named Billy Davis. Davis died in prison a while back.”

“Did you know?”

“I found out my father ordered Jesse to get rid of her, so I went to Carmella's house, your house. When I drove up, I heard gunshots and Jesse, Wade, and Billy came running out. I drove off when I saw them run out.”

“Why now? Why's Jesse coming at her now?”

“He's been in prison for the past fifteen years, serving out time for killing our father.”

“All these years, the anguish, the guilt, and you said nothing?” I lashed out. “You bastard!”

“First off, I didn't know who
you
were, and I certainly didn't know about Nareece being your sister or that she was even still alive.”

I picked up my glass and threw it at him, then rushed him, punching and clawing. Laughton got his arms around my arms, so I kicked and tried to head-butt him away. He released me and stumbled backward. I grabbed his shirt by both shoulders, flipped him over to the floor, and lodged my knee in his neck. My heart banged against my chest at breakthrough force. Laughton swung his arm up and knocked me away, flipped me over, and put his knee in my neck. After a few minutes he lowered his body on top of mine, his face inches away.

“I felt you, girl, the moment we met,” he whispered.

My heart leaped, but my mouth spoke on its own accord. “Oh, please,” I spat back with all the sarcasm I could muster.

He stayed put until my breathing slowed, and stayed longer, then kissed me. I struggled against his hold, but his lips stayed on mine no matter which way I turned, and the “
no
” I screamed in my head, stopped. I flopped like a fish out of water and turned my head away.

“Have you lost your mind?” I yelped.

He loosened his grip on my wrists and rested his head on my shoulder.

A wave of guilt swallowed my anger, mostly. I pushed at him to get him off of me. He responded and moved aside, lying on his back with his arms spread-eagle. I sat up and slid back to lean against the wall. I would never have imagined how anything could dampen my feelings for Laughton until now.

“Did you get Jesse off?”

“No. He doesn't even suspect I'm his brother,” he said, sitting up. “He thinks I'm dead. Kelvin Boone
is
dead.”

“A new face doesn't make a new person,” I said, buttoning my blouse, which had come undone. I felt my face flush. “How'd he find out Nareece's name and where she lived?”

“Good question. I also think Jesse is controlling someone in the department.”

“What about John? Do you think he knew about Jesse?”

“I'd bet John only learned about the whole mess a few weeks ago, after Jesse found out about Carmella and went to her house.”

I thought about the note Nareece had told me about, the note I'd ignored because I figured she was exaggerating again and just being paranoid. I also reflected on the photograph John's sister and Bates had shown me of Jesse going into Nareece's house.

Laughton sat up on the floor in front of me and put his hand on my leg. I pushed it off. He stood up and moved away.

“Wade Taylor found out who I was and tried to blackmail me. I don't know how he knew. He was scared of Jesse and said I'd have to kill him before he'd tell me anything about what Jesse was into. I know Jesse has someone inside the department. Wade told me Jesse was looking for Nareece . . . Carmella. He was scared Jesse would come after him. I think Jesse killed him just to tie up loose ends.”

“And what about Marcy Taylor? When were you married to her? And why was she killed?”

“We were kids. She was sixteen. I was seventeen. She thought she was pregnant, but it turned out she wasn't. My father made me do the right thing, then when it wasn't happening, he made me divorce her. He beat the shit outta me for that. I think she really did commit suicide. That's what it's looking like anyway.”

I got up and moved to the couch.

“I also think Jesse paid big bucks to get out on parole. The police ain't shit.”

“Yeah, well, you're one of us, no wonder.”

Laughton came and sat next to me. “Look, M, you could end up dead if you don't listen to me.”

“Why would he target me? He's still ignorant about me being Reecey's sister.” It was a statement more than a question. I didn't need Laughton to answer. I stood and straightened my clothing.

“It doesn't matter whether he knows you're Carmella's sister or not, you're testifying against him in a murder case. How do you think he's gotten away with murder 'til now? All except one—our father.”

“So, where's he holding Nareece?”

He got up and stood over me. “I'm working on it. I'll call you when I know something.”

“Are you kicking me out now? You'll call me. That's all you got? You'll call me. And what am I supposed to do with all of this until you call me?” I grabbed my purse and sweater and went to the door, anxious to breathe fresh air. Laughton followed.

He grabbed my elbow and spun me around. “M, I care about you and Travis. I didn't know you and Carmella were sisters until I read the file, after Jesse got released from prison. I'll help you get Carmella back, put Jesse away for good, and then I'm gone.”

“Seems like you're suited well for leaving.” I backed away from him and stepped over the threshold. I turned back to him. “Why'd you come back?”

“Something about home, I guess,” he said and cracked a half smile.

“So many lies told, Laughton. Just like that, it's all shit.” I spun around and walked away, pissed because a tear blazed a trail down my cheek.

C
HAPTER
19

A
t 5:00 a.m. on Monday, Dulcey's street was deserted except for a Bigfoot kind of guy who lumbered behind a shopping cart overflowing with trash bags stuffed with possessions. He stopped every few hundred yards to rummage through a trash barrel for treasures to add to his collection.

I pulled curbside in front of Dulcey's house and waited while he finished “shopping” in her neighbor's barrel. He wore a dirty hoodie under a dirtier beige raincoat with sleeves that capped at his elbows and lengthwise barely reached his thighs. Gobs of matted hair stretched the hood of the undergarment and hung over his face. He pulled soda cans from the barrel and stuffed them into a half-filled trash bag tied to the end of his cart. Then he pulled out a football trophy and rubbed it off with the sleeve of his hoodie, placed it atop his cart, and moved on with a straighter stature.

Dulcey lives in a twin row house at 4604 Locust Street in West Philly. While many of the neighborhood row houses were dilapidated, Dulcey's house was like an oasis, freshly painted, lawn manicured with seasonal plantings. That's what Dulcey did: make things beautiful even when hope was dimmed. “Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for, child,” she quipped at the mere mention of something being impossible to recover or the enormity of a failed prospect.

Though the house was dark, I knew Dulcey, and Hamp, if he was home, would be at the kitchen table sipping a hearty blended brewed coffee and reading the
Inquirer
, Philly's prime newspaper. I got out of my car and went around to the side of the house to the glass-enclosed porch. She answered my tap immediately. She pulled me inside and hugged me with enough force to crush a bear, pushed me back to arms' length, and gave me the once-over, making sure all my parts were in the right places.

“I been crazy worryin' about your behind,” she whispered, reeling me in for another hug. “Travis hasn't moved from my side, and the twins are detectin' 'til I wanna lock them up for obstruction.” She cackled.

The smell of bacon and cinnamon made my stomach squeak out a hungry verse. I could not remember the last time I ate.

“I hear you,” Dulcey said, patting my belly. I swiped her hand away. “C'mon, girl, and sit yourself down.” She ushered me into the kitchen and pulled out a chair where she wanted me to sit.

“Where's Hamp?”

Dulcey got a dish out of the cabinet and started filling it with bacon, cheese eggs, grits, and cinnamon biscuits, her specialty. She responded with her back to me. “He got him a little job delivering newspapers. Gets him outta my way early in the morning, keeps him outta trouble—some—and puts some money in his pocket.” She sighed, then continued, on her way to bringing the mile-high plate to the table. “He's doing much better, and I thank God for that.” She set the plate in front of me and plopped down in a chair.

I inhaled the first helping and devoured a second before I sat back in my chair, a Buddha to behold. She stayed quiet while I pigged out. Now she sat straight in the chair with her lips pursed and hands folded, her thumbs circling each other at warp speed as though conducting a mini-orchestra, the sound of which came from her feet rubbing back and forth.

“Your belly's full, now talk to me.”

“I just came from Laughton's.” I hated that I teared up before I could get any more out.

Dulcey sat forward in her chair and hunched over the table with folded arms. “Girl, you just need to take a breath and let it flow.”

“Laughton is Jesse Boone's brother—half brother.”

She pushed back in her chair like I had socked her in the jaw. “I'll be a monkey's auntie.”

“That's only the short of it. Jesse has Nareece, and someone in the department or in the FBI is on Jesse's dime. That's how he's been getting away with murder, how he found Reecey, and how he probably knows about me being her sister and being the one that helped shut down the organization. It's a friggin' mess.”

“And Reecey took that maniac's money. Sounds like you gotta get the police . . .”

“Yeah, right, and get Reecey killed! No way. Laughton is going to find out where Jesse is holding Reecey, and we're going to get her back.”

“Laughton and you.”

“Laughton and me. I don't know what else Jesse knows. That's why I think you need to take the girls and Travis to your sister's place.”

She got up and cleared my plate from the table. “Don't you worry about the kids. I told you I got them covered. You just do what you gotta to bring Reecey home without getting you or her killed in the doing.”

Travis shuffled into the kitchen at Dulcey's last words.

He limped across the floor to me, kissed my cheek, and plopped down next to me. “Man, Moms, you need to be calling Laughton and get him on the case. You can't be jumping off by yourself. Can't leave you alone for a minute,” he said with a slight laugh.

“Why are you limping?”

“I banged my knee messing with them crazy twins.”

“They love you.”

“Don't be trying to change the subject. And don't be trying to make like I'm too young to see what's happenin'. I'm not stupid,” he said with a stern look and a fatherly tone.

“You think Laughton's the savior for everything.” I rubbed his chin and sniffed him. “You need a shave and a shower, boy. A haircut wouldn't hurt, either,” I said, running my hand through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah. You sound like a recording.” He brushed my hand away. “Ma.” His agitation was slight but sincere.

“Who's the cop here anyway?” I countered. “Not to worry, son. I got this.” I gestured with my hands and raised one shoulder, giving back some of his mannerisms. His face lightened, and he playfully punched my shoulder.

Dulcey set a plate of food and a glass of milk in front of him. “Eat, boy. Your momma been doing police work way before your scrawny behind was even thought of, now eat. Put some meat on them bones.”

“What? And I'm just supposed to sit around like a sissy while my moms gets picked off by some crazy guy who doesn't have a clue who he's dealing with? You sure do know how to make a man feel inept.”

“Inept, huh?”

“Word.”

“Eat, boy,” I said, hoping that would be the end of that conversation. I was blessed when I heard the twins. They stormed down the stairs sounding like thunder and raced into the kitchen trying to squeeze in the doorway at the same time. When they finally burst through, they charged me, squealing in unison, “Auntie, Auntie!” and jumped in my lap, in unison. Helen landed on the floor. Travis saved the day from a catastrophe as my chair toppled backward.

When everyone was settled, Rose said, “Where's Mommy and Daddy?” She twisted around on my lap until she faced me.

Dulcey gave me a sideways glance, as she set the table for them.

“Mommy says hi and she'll be here soon,” I said, stung anew by the reality of John's death and their ignorance of the fact. Now certainly was not the time to tell them. The time would come once Nareece was back in their presence. I quickly changed the subject. “So, Auntie Dulcey tells me you're working hard at the shop.”

“Yeah, and Helen poured some color in a lady's hair and turned it green.”

I looked at Dulcey in horror for confirmation.

“Child sure did. But we fixed her up. Ms. Greely. Turned out she liked the color Rose made better than the nasty red she'd been using for years, long as I been doing her hair.” Dulcey cackled, shaking her head as she put plates of food down for the twins. “C'mon, you detectives sit up here and eat. We gotta leave in a bit.”

“Auntie, can we go with you now?” Rose asked, her lips stuck out, eyes droopy, for effect.

“Soon, baby, soon. Auntie's got a few errands to do today to help your mom finish some business.”

“Mommy and Daddy are still in trouble, huh?” Helen asked, taking a mouthful of food.

Getting up from the table at the vibration of my cell phone, I said, “Nothing Auntie can't handle,” and went into the living room.

“Muriel Mabley.”

“Mabley. You need to get in here now!” Cap yelled. “You hear me?
Now!
”

“But—”

“Now, Mabley.” And he hung up.

The twins choked up when I hugged them good-bye, jabbering at lightning speed. I hugged Travis and left him and the twins at the kitchen table to devour the breakfast Dulcey had made. Dulcey walked me outside to my car.

“You call me if things get outta hand and you need some blocking.” She furrowed her brow and pointed her finger at me. “Be careful, M.”

I nodded and got into the car. After Dulcey went back into the house, I made a U-turn and headed to the station, then decided I needed a shower and some clean clothes. I also wanted to retrieve the initials and phone number I had found in Nareece's file. Cap could wait a half hour longer.

When I got home, I found a note from Mr. Kim stuck to the door. It read,
Please come over to my house. I need to see you.
I dropped my purse and briefcase on the couch and went next door. Kim did not answer. I made a mental note to call him later.

I checked the house phone for messages. There was one from Cap yelling obscenities and two hang-ups. I went upstairs to my office and retrieved the Mabley file from under the blotter on my desk. The notepaper with the mysterious initials and phone number was stuck to the inside cover. I dialed the number. Someone picked up after the third ring but didn't say anything. They stayed silent for a few seconds before clicking off.

I showered and changed into street clothes, locked up the house, and went to the station.

“Hey, M,” Parker called out, raising his hand above the top of his cubicle. “Get ready to rumble.” He snickered. “You got some seedy folk laying for you. Call me if you need help.”

I stepped inside his cubicle. “Do me one better, Parker. Get me a name and address for this phone number, please.”

He looked at the paper and grinned back at me, the kind of grin that said, “
You owe me two now
,” though at the moment, I could not remember what the first one was for.

“Take a seat,” Cap ordered after I entered his office and closed the door. I sat in a chair in front of his desk. Two men sat off to the side facing me, one white with dark, squinty eyes and a pocked face. The other looked almost as scary, except for Dumbo ears. “This here is Agent Jakes and Agent Janey.” He nodded in their direction, but kept his eyes on me. I coughed to mask my amusement of Jakes and Janey. “They want to ask you some questions.”

“Mabley, we need your help,” Agent Jakes—or was he Janey?—said as he got up and moved to the front of the desk and sat directly in front of me, his knee at my chest. “We're investigating several murders we suspect Jesse Boone is responsible for.” Agent Janey—or was he Jakes?—whichever one Agent Dumbo Ears was, stayed put off to the side, perched on the corner of a file cabinet, and silent. He failed miserably at looking tough.

I pushed back in my chair and met the detective's stare.

“You're familiar with Boone,” the detective said.

“Familiar? If you mean, did he
almost
rape and kill me, yes, I'm familiar with Boone.”

“The only time you've encountered Boone was during that recent altercation?”

“Yes.”

“What's Laughton's connection to Boone?”

“Why're you asking me these questions? What's this about?”

Dumbo Ears grunted, uncrossed and crossed his legs, and closed his hands together, capturing his raised knee. I met his stare briefly, then refocused on the agent who blocked my view of the captain.

“Please answer the question.”

I shifted in my chair and sat forward. “I don't know that Laughton has a connection to Boone more than working with me on the case.”

Both detectives got up and moved toward the door. My interrogator turned at the door and said, “Thanks, Captain. We'll be in touch again if necessary.”

The captain and I stayed focused on the two strolling down the corridor until they passed through the exit door.

“Mabley, you're walking a thin line here. This can get bad.”

“Cap, I found out Jesse Boone's the one who almost killed Reecey. I would bet the letter she got was from him, that's why she was scared. She's known all along it was Jesse. I think he's got her now.”

Cap got up and moved to the front of his desk and sat in the same place where the FBI agent had sat. “Before you get yourself killed, let me fill you in on some things. I should have told you all this a long time ago, but you were so fragile, and then Elliot and Esther . . . Your father was the best friend any man could have . . . I'd hoped it was dead forever.”

“Hoped what was dead forever?”

I got up and moved around the room, stopping at Cap's wall of fame—photos of him with politicians, the police commissioner, honored officers, my father, and his wife and two daughters. My stomach grumbled, letting me know no good was coming down the pike.

“You've been good for this department, Muriel.”

Cap had not called me Muriel since I started working in his section.

“All right, Cap, you're starting to sound guilty of something.” I turned and stumbled over to where he sat. “Why did you let those detectives interrogate me like I did something wrong?”

“Laughton—”

I spun around, swinging my arms up. “Laughton, Laughton, all anybody talks about is Laughton. I don't know the man anymore. How about that?”