Murder in Germantown (30 page)

“
What do I get?” she asked like a true bargainer.

We were at Broad and Glenwood.

“
Pull over,” I told Kensan. I jumped out and jogged to the ATM. There was a loud mouth hood-rat at the machine pushing buttons and gossiping on a Nextel chirp phone. She was rudely blasting her conversation, as if anyone wanted to hear that her man slept with her cousin. I was pissed, and this confirmed why I hated public transportation. I finally withdrew $600 from the ATM. Back at the car, I asked Destiny to get out.

“
Here’s $600,”--I waved the money flamboyantly--“$300 per question.”

She answered my two questions and volunteered a bit, as well.

“
Thanks,” I said and sat in the passenger seat. I opened the glove box and told her to grab her weapon. I was not touching it. She did, and I said, “Have a nice day.”

I slammed the door shut and told Kensan to get me to the doctor for my face and hand.

CHAPTER 67

Mid-evening, I strolled into the door massaging my bruised hand. It was not broken, just sprained. I walked into the bathroom and just as I ran the water
in
the tub, the telephone rang. By the time I reached it, the caller had hung up. The condo was quiet. I did not need quiet. I needed Brandon running around to remind me of my existence. I needed Dajuan playing a song in G-minor. They were at Judo, but I had my lesson for that day in the streets.

I was in the kitchen with a glass of red wine in one hand and an ice tray in the other when the telephone rang again. Pulling the plug was a delightful idea, but I thought better of it and I answered.

“
What the hell is up with your cell phone?” Aramis barked as if I was his woman.

“
Nothing. Who the fuck are you talking to?”

I checked my cell phone and it was on silent-ring versus vibrate.

“
I tried calling yo ass a thousand times.”

“
What’s up? I had a rough ass day.”

“
I didn’t. I’m trying to solve a case. Your case to be precise.”

“
Really? I’m trying to lose this case. My case to be precise,” I joked.

“
Don’t be an ass. Listen, I went up to the realtor. The property was rented by a Mr. Donald Barclay.”

“
Barclay...Barclay. That name sounds familiar,” I answered.

“
Well, here’s the deal. The property was actually leased for six months by a company called, Barclay Industries. Went by City Hall. It’s a dummy corp. And your former colleague, Mr. Lawrence “Low Down” Miller was written all over the paperwork.”

“
Who the hell is this Barclay clown?”

“
Don’t know at this time, but I am on that, trust me!”

“
Oh, I do.”

“
What’s with you?”

“
I had a fight with some nut today. Two this week. I am on a roll. My hand is swollen as hell. That’s all. Nothing major. I’m looking forward to going to jail.”

“
You’re taking this as a joke. Do we gotta go kill someone?”

“
Nope,” I said and then told him about the whole adventure.

“
Now that’s crazy,” was Aramis’s subtle response. “If he only knew that you wouldn’t dare touch his woman.”

“
I’m telling you.”

We both cracked up.

“
It’s awfully quiet over there. Where are Pinky and the Brain?”

“
Judo class. Brandon has no desire to take over the world and he hates Bush.”

“
He’s five, how in the hell is that. I forget, my bad. You have the boy taking enough classes to become a straight A school yard bully. Such a contradiction.”

“
I don’t have Brandon doing anything. I just let him know what’s available. That is how kids develop talents. He has to know what the world has to offer. Maybe if you had a child and stopped depositing yours into condoms or throats you’d know that.”

“
And if you stop depositing babies into Dajuan as if he can bring them to term...” he began to laugh before he got the full joke out.

I loved my best friend.

“
You’re a damn retard,” I said laughing.

“
Right. Let me get off here. I have a very salacious date.”

“
Always. Before you go. I have a friend that wrote an urban fiction tale. I’m about to review it. When I’m done, I would like you to use one of your contacts to help him get it published.”

“
If it’s any good. Let me know.”

“
Sure thing.”

I hung up with Aramis and grabbed a quick shower. Afterward, I sat back in my office and read the first line of Kensan’s novel: “The man who had three hours to live kissed his wife goodbye.” I was hooked.

CHAPTER 68

The over-weight cop stood in the doorway of the Sanchez home. He had his note pad out and took down the lady-of-the-house’s complaint. She claimed that she had not experienced domestic violence and had not called 911. As she shut her front door, she heard a loud thud. Something had hit the front door. She opened the door, prepared to read the cop his rights, but he was dead. A small hole was in the back of his head. Three other officers were killed while responding to fake cries for help in other parts of the city at that precise moment.

When I was forced awake by the slam of the front door, I realized that I was having a nightmare. The details of the nightmare surrounded the plot to Kensan’s manuscript. Then I heard my baby’s voice.

“
Dad!”

That was a joyous way to awaken. I knew that he was about to tell me all about an ass he kicked at Judo.

“
What?” I said.

“
You missed Judo. It was fun. And Daddy D took me to South Street after class. I got this.” He held up a fluffy, snow white rabbit. “It’s an Angora rabbit.”

“
Look at that fine wool. I can make a fur coat out of him.”

Bad joke. Brandon frowned. I would not be surprised if he became a fan of PETA. “Just joking, King B.”

“
Okay, ‘cause, I do not want you to wear him. I want to take him to Show and Tell on Friday.”

“
Where’s the cage?”

I did not need Bugs Bunny and Ms. Pearl having a living room showdown. And I doubted Brandon could train the rabbit not to leave the gum ball droplets of excrement all over the house.

“
Daddy D is setting it up in my room,” he said and walked out of my room.

I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. I thought about going to see Dr. Kelvin Randolph, my therapist. Psychiatrist. No, I am not a traditional psychotic, but I do stress and it’s good to talk to a stranger. Who cares what they thought? They couldn’t create a rumor and render you ostracized.

Dajuan walked into the bedroom wearing a black tank top. I wondered where his shirt and coat was. We had been over him being out coatless.

“
Good morning, Mr. Lemmelle-Jones,” he said sarcastically. “Can I get you breakfast?” he asked and sat next to me.

He pecked my cheek.

“
What time is it?” I asked sitting up.

I wasn’t nude, but it appeared that way when the blanket fell to my waist.

“
Ten,” he said. “PM,” he added with a smirk on his face.

“
Get out, smart aleck.”

FRIDAY, JANUARY 12, 2007

CHAPTER 69

Friday morning, it occurred to Aramis why he wasn’t on staff at
the Inquirer
and why he did not have a syndicated column. He had mastered his craft by solving a crime. The chase for the Hope Circle murderer(s) was intriguing. Usually, he simply gathered the information and wrote a colorful article. Not that time.

He sat in the newsroom itemizing what he had known that far. It helped having a direct confidential line to the defense. He hadn’t heard from Rhonesia, but he would develop a story based on what she said. Whatever she found was a plus. He was prepared to ruffle feathers. He planned an article full of motley innuendo and famished speculation. The only evidence he had was the key chain. He needed that other gun in his possession. Detective Callaghan did not speak to him, so he planned to report what he desired to be the outcome and prayed that he was on the right track. He decided to call Rhonesia.

“
Reed, you’re a hard guy to reach,” she said, excitedly.

“
You’ve been calling me. I haven’t received any calls or messages from you.”

“
I do not leave messages. Especially this kind. Never know who’s listening with the Patriot Act in effect.”

“
What kind?”

“
The criminal kind.”

“
I can be at Explorer’s Den in fifteen minutes,” Aramis said.

“
No dice. Meet me at the Broad Street Diner at 66th and Broad.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they both emerged into the busy diner. With all of the noise and patrons ebbing about, the nefarious two sat at the counter. They ordered hot chocolates and breakfast.

“
Did you have to come so far from the school? You must bear great news.”

“
What I bear is speculation, but definitely worth your attention.”

“
Perfect. What do you have?”

Rhonesia waited until the waitress left. She had dropped off frothy hot chocolates to the reporters.

“
Here goes,” Rhonesia began. “When you left me the other day, I wrote up a speculative article for the school paper,” she said and pulled out the paper. Aramis began to read the paper, as she said, “You told me to get dirty, and I did. I praised Wydell and spoke about the lost keychain with prints that belonged to someone on campus. Hence, someone else from LSU was at the party as a guess or assassin.”

“
This is brilliant, Rhonesia,” Aramis raved and sipped his cocoa.

He wanted to hug her, but that was inappropriate.

“
That should have gotten the rumor mill turning fast enough to snap it.”

“
Better. The next day, a certain Calc 2 student was not in class. That struck me as odd. He’s a math major and loves the class. He quickly grasps topics and loves being in front of the class, working out five minute proofs.”

“
Could’ve been sick. Late. Having sex. Anything, but...”

“
He dropped out! Collected 70% of his tuition and packed up. I know because I chatted with him as he packed.”

The waitress dropped waffles, bacon, and more cocoa in front of them, and Aramis gave her a flirtatious smile. He adored playing with women who admired his handsomeness. When she drifted away, he asked, “Rhonesia, where is all this going?”

“
This is just a hunch, but it’s like this. I can be off the mark totally, and look like a buffoon, afterward. Or, I could have solved my first murder, a knack that I never knew that I had. You brought that out. Thanks.”

Aramis was grateful, but becoming impatient. “What do you have, Rhonesia?”

“
I have property from the drop out.”

“
He gave you his things. Good for you. Now, about the case?”

“
No, I received them by way of...”

“
You didn’t!”

“
You told me to get dirty and I did.”

“
I never encouraged you to steal. That would make me an accessory before the fact. Are you out of your mind? You risked expulsion and more important arrest,” Aramis said hotly.

He almost regretted involving her.

“
Come on, Aramis. Don’t be so persnickety. If the prints on the appropriately wrongfully obtained...”

“
Stolen!”

“
Borrowed! If the borrowed pieces match, this case is solved. By us, too,” she smiled.

“
Maybe. It’s hardly the
coup de grace
for the prosecutor’s case.”

“
But, it casts doubt. That’ll get Wydell off.”

“
Where are the things?”