In a Cold Sweat (20 page)

“I don’t know who you're talkin’ to, but I ain’t scared of no man,” Stark boasted.

Richards looked around the room again. “Yeah, I see why.”

Kirk took out a business card and stood up. “If you think of anything that might be helpful, whatever that might be,
give
me a call,” the detective said and left Stark’s apartment.

Once they were in the car, Richards turned to Kirk. “What do you think?”

“Even if I don’t believe that Black is involved, Stark does, and he doesn’t plan on being next. So let’s go talk to Black; see what he’s got to say.”

“It will definitely be more entertaining than this guy,” Richards commented and drove off.

I miss you, Cassandra.

I miss her so much sometimes I can hardly breathe.

I miss everything about her.

I waited my whole life to feel for somebody the way I felt for Cassandra, and now she’s dead.

I miss her smile and the way her eyes would dance when she would see me. I miss long conversations about nothing in particular; I just miss talkin’ to her.

I long to feel her head against my chest, and feel the warmth of her body next to mine. I wanna share a meal with her and wonder why it always takes her so long to order. Maybe ’cause she was too busy talkin’ instead of looking at the menu. But I love her anyway.

Some days it feels like I’m just walkin’ through life, one day to the next. I have nothing to look forward to now. I know she’s not going to be there when I get home. I can’t call her just to hear that sexy voice of hers. Some days I’m like, what's the point?

Michelle helps a lot with that, ’cause when I look at her, I know I have a purpose. I’m her father. No disrespect to M, but when you get right down to it, I’m all she has in this world. And I won’t let her down.

But, the only time I really feel alive are times like this. When there’s even the slightest possibility that I might find out why my baby had to die. She was the only thing that ever really mattered to me; other than money, I mean. But Cassandra meant more to me than money, ’cause I would gladly give up all the money I have, or ever will have, if there was a chance that I could see her again.

Why somebody had to take that from me, something that good from me, something I’ve waited all my life for, I don’t know. But now I know who, and he will tell me why right before I cut his throat.

When Bobby turned the car off and asked, “You gettin’ out or you gonna keep on sittin’ there lookin’ stupid?” That’s when I realized that we were at his house. By the time I got out of the car, Bobby had already taken my bags out of the trunk.

“I know you got a lot on your mind right now. You're thinkin’ about why this DeFrank whatever mutha fucka had Shy killed. I know you thinkin’ about how you gonna kill these mutha fuckas, but take a breath,” Bobby said and opened the front door.

I followed him inside and downstairs to the basement, which Bobby had claimed as his own personal space. Once he made himself comfortable, he continued. “
You thinkin’
’bout killin’ two DEA agents?”

“One.”

“One what?”

“One DEA. The other one’s in jail.”

“That presents another set of problems,” Bobby said.

“Why, ’cause he’s in jail? Bein’ in jail don’t stop shit. You know that. He can still get got.” And Martin Marshall was gonna help me with that. “Being in jail didn’t stop him from puttin’ a contract on me and Cassandra. No, Bobby, I’m sorry, that mutha fucka is gonna die for this.”

“And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t kill them. It ain’t like I could stop you anyway.”

He had that right.

“All I’m sayin’ is to take a breath and think for a minute.”

“That’s what I’m doin’. I didn’t walk out of Marshall’s house and wanna go shoot up DEA headquarters, did I?”

“No, that would be stupid.”

“Bob, when have you ever known me to rush off and do stupid shit?”

“You never lost your wife before,” he reasoned.

What could I say? Bobby was absolutely right. This being about Cassandra did change everything for me, and to be honest, I did think about goin’ down to DEA headquarters and shootin’ everybody I could find, but I knew it would be suicide—But I thought about it.

When Martin told me that shit, I was on fire. It was all I could do to keep from killin’ him. Not ’cause I thought he was more involved in it than he said.
 

Just because.

Because somebody had to die for this. But I needed Martin Marshall and he would be more useful to me alive. After I got these other two mutha fuckas, we’ll see how much his life is worth.

“It’s not that I’m disagreeing with you, Bobby. I know what I’m thinkin’ about doin’ could come back on all of us. Kill a DEA agent, and we might have every law enforcement officer in the country comin’ down on us.”

“I don’t know about you, but that’s something I want to avoid at all costs.”

“And you think I don’t?” I asked my best friend.

Bobby just looked at me. “You never lost a wife before. Ain’t no tellin’ where your head
is.
I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you.” Bobby got up and went to the bar to pour us some drinks. “Look man, all I’m sayin’ is I’m with you whatever you decide to do. Let’s just go slow.”

Bobby handed me my drink and I drained the glass. “You should have brought the bottle.”

“Like that’s a problem.”

“First thing we need to do is find out who these fuckas are. I mean everything. I’m not really all that worried about killin’ DeFrancisco. Buy the right lifers’ family a house and he gets shanked in the shower.”

“You can probably get it done cheaper than that,” Bobby said.

“I’m just sayin’, Bob. He can be done and nobody would care.”

“Right, right.”

“It’s the other mutha fucka, this DEA mutha fucka that I’m worried about.”

“I didn’t know you were back, Mike,” Pam said as she came down the steps. Pam and I have always had a special bond. She gave me another year with Cassandra and she is a big help with Michelle.

“We just got here,” I told her.

“There are two city cops at the door lookin’ for you, Mike. You want me to send them away?”

“City cops?” I questioned.

“Kirk?” Bobby questioned

“Gotta be,” I said and got up. “I got a few answers I want from the good detective.”

“You didn’t invite them in, did you?” Bobby asked.

“Of course not. They’re outside,” Pam advised.

“Want me to go out there with you?” Bobby asked as I went up the stairs.

“Just look out for me,” I said and was out the door. “Kirk!” I said loudly. On top of my having answers to get from him, I actually liked Kirk. Respected him. I owed my freedom to this man. If it wasn’t for Kirk, I’d be doing life for murdering Cassandra. I know it must have been an interesting paradox for him. After all those years of tryin’ to lock me up, he goes out of his way to prove that I didn’t do it. He doesn’t know it, and maybe he does, but I owe him, and it’s a debt I had every intention of paying.

I started walking away from the house. “What are you two doin’ way out here? And more important, how did you find the place?”

 
“We did miss that turn a few times,” Kirk said and Richards cracked a smile, something he rarely does in front of me.

Once I was out in the street, I stopped and faced the detectives. I wanted to bust right out and ask them what they knew about DeFrancisco and Vinnelli, but I took Bobby’s advice and took a deep breath. They came out here for a reason. The best approach was to hear them out on whatever bullshit they had to say and be as cooperative as possible without turning snitch. I hate snitches, ’cause if you’ll snitch for me, you’ll snitch on me.

But before they left for the city, I would have my answers. “Yeah, that turn is hard to find, especially this time of night; Sun setting in your eyes, street signs get hard to read.”
 
Neither detective seemed interested in making small talk about traffic patterns. “So what up, Kirk?”

When Kirk looked at Richards and took a step back, I knew that he didn’t think whatever Richards was about to ask me was relevant to whatever case they were on. That would make gettin’ what I wanted from Kirk that much easier.

“Do you know a Steven Blake or a Kevin Murdock?” Richards asked and handed me two pictures.

I looked at the pictures and handed them back to him. “No, I don’t know either of them. Should I?”

“Their street names are Cash Money and K Murder. You ever hear of them?”

“No.”

“What about a guy named Stark or Billy Banner, goes by BB?”

“Never heard of any of them. They sound like cartoon characters to me,” I laughed and Kirk chuckled a little, but not Richards. He remained stone faced like this was important.

“Well, they’ve heard of you. In fact they’re so worried that you’re gonna kill them, that they formed a little group.”

“What kind of group?”

“They call themselves The Commission.”

“What are they; a rap group or something?” I asked, fighting back the laughter. I glanced over at Kirk and he was doin’ the same thing.

“No, they’re low rent drug dealers that used to work for Birdie,” Richards said.

“Now him I heard of. Heard they found his body in some river in Jersey,” I taunted. “But you answered your own question. If these guys are low rent drug dealers, I wouldn’t know them or anything about them. Maybe you should talk to Freeze. He keeps up with that kind of shit. It’s like a hobby to him. But since you drove all the way out here to ask me about them, it must be something that you can only ask me.”

“That would be correct,” Richards said.

I took a step closer to him. “You don’t like me, do you, detective Richards? To you I’m just another arrogant crook who doesn’t deserve the respect Kirk shows me.”

“That would be correct,” Richards stated plainly.

“That’s why I respect you, detective Richards, ’cause you don’t like me and you have no problem lettin’ me know that you don’t like me. You're not like a lot of other cops who smile in my face or try to act tough. You do your job, and I respect you for that.”

“Right,” Richards said.

I knew I caught him off guard, but I meant what I said. “Whatever I can do to help you, detective Richards.”

“Somebody killed Cash Money in his apartment and K Murder was killed this weekend in a drive by.”

“I don’t know anything about that. I just came back from the Bahamas today. Like I said, Freeze keeps up with that type of shit. So unless you're tellin’ me that these are the guys that killed my wife, I wouldn’t know anything about them. Why would I?”

“That’s what I asked one of them,” Richards said.

“What he say?”

“He didn’t have a reason either, but right now he’s sitting behind fifteen guys—”

“Seventeen,” Kirk corrected.