Murder in Germantown (36 page)

He was a skinny, dark man, with to many teeth. It was obvious why he had to pay for tricks.

“
I got about twenty bucks,” he said.

I pulled my shirt out of my pants, unbuckled my jeans and then unzipped them. I didn’t know that I was so cheap.
Twenty bucks, wow.
He looked at me with great anticipation, and I obliged. There I was, the son of the Governor, a Harvard grad, and a male prostitute. Helluva resumé. Brandon would be proud.

The man reached his arm out to touch me and I broke it. One swift motion, and I snapped it at the elbow. He yelled like a woman, and I shut him up with a blow to his temple

He was barely cognizant when he said, “I’m sorry, man. She paid me to keep you busy for an hour. She gave me a grand.”

“
She? Who the fuck is she?”

I was confused as hell.

“
Dunno. I was passing by looking for a date, and she flagged me down. She wanted me to take photos performing oral sex on you and text them to her. I think my arm is broken.”

He was whining and held onto his arm.

“
What number are you supposed to text?” I asked fixing my clothing.

“
It’s in the ash tray.”

“
Thanks,” I said and hit him again.

He was asleep when I reached into his car door, pulled the handle and opened it. I pulled the man out by his shirt and dropped him to the ground. I searched his pockets and took his wallet. Next, I hopped into his car and drove off in it.

Assault and carjacking down, murder to go!

CHAPTER 83

I sped out of the alley having noted that I was running for my life, wanted by the PPD, and in a stolen vehicle. Hadn’t I worked to avoid this kind of dilemma. Apparently not. I was supposed to represent the crazy men and women who committed these sorts of heinous acts.

At Sixth Street, I made a left off Spring Garden and sent Kensan another text message. I wanted to call my home badly. That Mr. 357 character was an obnoxious dumb ass and capable of garnering a spot in Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I was not familiar with the man, but...Wait! I had an epiphany. The man whose car I took said that he had met a woman. Could Mr. 357 be in drag? That made sense. Nothing made sense. I was a wreck. This had to be a damn dream.

I pulled out my cell phone and call Jon Rude. He was groggy, but he got right up at the mentioning of the words: blown-up, 357, chasing, carjacking, and dead. Those words in combination with me were insane. Using caution, I asked him to hang up and told him that I would text him in the event my phone or the car that I drove was bugged. I was taking no chances on my life or my family’s lives.

I crossed Market Street slowly and briefly looked down six blocks and saw that police cruisers and EMT vehicles had flooded the site of the explosion. I kept driving, though. When I reached Pine Street, I turned right and parked between Sixth and Seventh Streets. I looked fiercely into the mirrors to maintain surveillance of my surroundings. I also looked for my family and Kensan to emerge from the condo. Finally they did.

They walked briskly up the sidewalk and just as they crossed Fifth Street, I saw a truck pull out. A follower, I presumed. Just as I expected.

I had already warned them to be on alert, but I sent Kensan another text to be sure he knew that they were lurking. He knew.

Surprisingly, Brandon held Dajuan’s hand, and my boys were moving. I knew that my baby was scared and confused, but he knew that Daddy had a serious job, sometimes dealing with bad guys. He knew that he had to listen to Dajuan no matter what if danger came. It had come.

They crossed Sixth Street and the truck crawled behind them. They got closer to my stolen car, and I rolled down the driver side window. As they passed me, Kensan dropped Dajuan’s laptop into the window and they kept walking, without Brandon noticing me. I then pulled off while the truck was unhappily stuck at the light.

The driver was not looking to harm my family at that point. Perhaps, they wanted to be led to me. I planned for them to get their wish, too.

CHAPTER 84

Twenty minutes later, Kensan pulled his car over on a long stretch of Walnut Street between 31st and 34th Streets. It was three city blocks without intersections. I was leaning on the guard rail on a bridge that overlooked a parking lot. I could see the apex of the 30th Street Amtrak station and the Main Philadelphia post office branch.

Two minutes passed before the truck that had followed my family turned onto Walnut Street. It stopped in front of a music cafe. The silhouette in the driver’s seat was on a telephone, probably checking in. They sat and watched until Brandon ran up to me and I picked him up. The driver slithered out of the truck. It was a female. I noticed that first. Second was her long hair. Probably a wig. She looked slim. Petite, sort of. Dark shades covered her eyes at 4 a.m. Who was she fooling?

Not, I said, the cat.

She walked slowly and had the audacity to be whistling, as if she was just a tenant out for a stroll to the apartment building up the block.

She approached us and said, “You guys got a light?”

“
Naw. We don’t smoke,” Dajuan said.

“
I do,” Kensan said and raised a Glock to her face.

He used the tip to knock the shades from her face.

Before she could get her hand out of her pocket where she probably had a gun of her own, Rude came from the shadows and smacked her upside her head with a .45. She lost her gun and bowed over. Blood gushed from her head.

Dajuan grabbed her by the throat and slammed her to the ground. He fell with her using all of his weight, as I picked up her gun.

“
Why the fuck are you following us?” Dajuan asked, as Rude handcuffed her.

Dajuan looked angry enough to kill her first and ask questions later.

“
Dad,” Brandon said. “That’s the lady that said that she was my mom at school the other day.”

“
She paid me to,” the woman said.

“
Who the hell is she?”

I was tired of this bitch, whoever she was.

“
I don’t know her name. She hired me to kidnap the boy.”

“
What?” Dajuan and I asked in unison.

I began to search for her cell phone, which began to ring as I grabbed it from her purse. I looked at the caller ID and the call was from Aramis’s phone. I was livid.

I opened it and the caller gleefully said, “Tell me Ravonne shit his pants when you took the boy.”

“
I did not. I have long ago learned to swim my way out of shit.”

“
Ahhhh. Ravonne Lemmelle,” the caller said.

It was Mr. 357. I’d bet that he grinned uncontrollably.

“
You don’t sound surprised, but I’d bet that you are.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and could feel steam escaping my pores. My brain worked overtime. I had been involved in the oddest situations, but this took the cake like an 1899 comedy show by a slave before his master. I had no desire to crash and burn, though. My family was in one piece and I intended to keep it that way.

I told Mr. 357, “I read a little about you a moment ago. You are really fond of women. You kill them and you hire them to do your dirty deeds. And you dress like one of them. I bet you’re gay. A faggot. You hate women, don’t you?”

“
You’re a genius. Sure I do. With a passion. Your mother included.”

Was I really talking to Mr. 357?

Was someone playing with me?

Did any of that matter? My life was in jeopardy.

“
Now that I know that you want my son, obviously to use and hold him as bait, I’ll assure you that will not happen, pal.”

“
You’re shitten me.”

I didn’t know myself. That fool had killed over 30 people and managed to thwart arrest that far.

“
Listen, Ray-Ray,” he said and cracked up.

“
No, you listen. I am tossing my phone, so don’t bother calling me. I’ll call you when I figure out who you are for the record. I am smarter than the FBI. I’ve beaten them in court every time I defended a case against them. You have played with me long enough, and it’s time I fuck you.”

“
You already have,” he said and burst into laughter, before he hung up.

My eyebrows furrowed. Was he speaking literally, or figuratively? I was numb. My heart thudded hard inside my chest. I was locked in the jaws of a vicious thought. I was on stage and it was hard to stay in character to protect my family. Had I cracked, Dajuan and definitely Brandon would, too. I felt bombarded with vulnerability. I looked Brandon directly in his eyes and then walked off with him. Dajuan came along.

I stopped walking and kneeled before Brandon. We were eye to eye.

“
Are you scared, King B?”

“
Yes,” he said, nodding his head up and down.

I could die.

“
The lady tried to kidnap me and kill you.”

“
Yes, but I’m a big boy and Dajuan, Kensan, and Rude stopped her. I have bad friends. But I need you to be bigger and better than all of us, little buddy.”

“
Like you big?” he asked a little excited.

His eyes had widened with a vision of being grown.

“
Bigger than me. Do you trust, Daddy D, too?”

“
Yup,” he said and held his hand out for a high-five.

Finally, he was acting his age. He had no real idea that a serial killer was after us. High fives were not in order, but he got one.

“
Enough to go without me?” I asked.

I had to. My son came first.

“
Uh,” he said, “why can’t we stay with you?”

I knew that the question stung Dajuan a little, but hopefully he understood.

I said, “Yes, you can, but do you trust Daddy D, how you trust me?”

I had to know, because I had no desire to torture him by leaving him with Dajuan or anyone else.

He looked up at Dajuan, and nodded his head up and down.

“
I need you to say it, Brandon.”

“
This is not court,” Rude said.

“
Yes, Dad,” Brandon said and smiled. “I love Daddy D.

“
Good, let’s get out of here,” I said.

I was ready to play!

CHAPTER 85

Brandon, Dajuan and I jogged down the stairs to the 30th Street Station SEPTA blue line. Not many commuters were on the train platform. The early morning crowd was not at its peak, yet, but it was going to be. Despite the cold weather, it was hot in the basement of the city. The walls rattled. Amtrak was connected to the station, so I presumed a Metroliner was arriving or departing that station. The rumble added horror to the dark mood.

That far, Mr. 357 lived up to his reputation. He made every attempt to frighten me, scare me, and hurt me. And it worked. I was sure that the monster was waiting for me to slip, fall, and bump my head on something sharp. I imagined him locked in a basement with black painted walls hanging upside down. He had to be more invested into stealing my son. But why?

What had I really done to this alien? Creature. Chimera. He was not human. No possibility. I was nearly chuckling at my thoughts, but laughing at that point was inappropriate.

Watching the happy train riders parade across the platform, listening to their iPods and having enjoyable conversations angered me. I had to get away from these happy damn people. I stepped up to the yellow line and looked through the tunnel. An east-bound train approached, and I could hear the west-bound train, as well.

Dajuan just paced. He had walked a mile in circles. He didn’t look scared, but I knew that he had to be. He was getting closer and closer to exploding. I felt that. I also felt the train platform convulse beneath my feet.

The east-bound train stopped and the doors opened. After a load of passengers disembarked, Brandon and I stepped on. The west-bound train also unloaded passengers. The platform was packed. We walked very quickly to the door leading to the next car. I pulled the handle and the door slid back. As Brandon went onto the platform that led to the next car, my heart quickened.