Murder on the Down Low (41 page)

“Good afternoon.” Nichelle’s voice trembled with anxiety. “Please forgive me if I’m a little nervous. I’ve never had a standing ovation before, and I haven’t even said a word.”

The room vibrated with laughter. “Go on sistah-girl, you’re among friends,” a woman sitting a few feet from the dais said encouragingly.

Nichelle glanced down at her notes. “As you all know, the AIDS epidemic remains at a crisis level, particularly for African-American women. But what no one’s discussing is how to stop the tide.”

“I know how to stop it,” yelled a petite woman in a pink hat. “Round up all the men on the down low and shoot ’em!”

More laughter rocked the room.

Nichelle patiently waited for the laughing to cease. “I think the answer lies more with understanding these men and examining our own culpability.”

An uneasy hush washed over the room like a tidal wave. Nichelle reached for the glass of water near the edge of the podium and took a sip.

“We should start by examining why these men feel the need to be on the down low in the first place. I believe one of the reasons they do is because they’re subjected to such scorn from the black community.”

This time an angry buzz seemed to spring up from the floor. At nearly every table women were muttering to their neighbors and eyeing Nichelle with disapproval.

“In the black community, gays are despised as—”

“They should be despised,” someone interrupted.

Nichelle paused momentarily, then scanned the audience. With such hostility in the room, there was no way she was going to get through her prepared speech. Nichelle pushed her notes to the side. She would just have to wing it.

“Should they be despised?” she challenged, looking past a woman who was the spitting image of Church Girl.

“I’m sure there are women in this room who have friends, brothers, sons, and maybe even fathers, who are in the closet. They wouldn’t need to lie to us if we accepted them for who they are.”

Rhonda leapt to her feet, Bible in hand. “Sister Ayers, homosexuality is a sin. We didn’t invite you here to encourage us to accept this perversion.” She flipped open her Bible. “Leviticus 20:13 says, and I quote:
If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.”
She dramatically slammed the Bible shut.

The entire room cheered. Nichelle took another sip of water. She had anticipated this response.

“You know,” Nichelle said, turning briefly to face Rhonda who was still standing, hand on hip, “I’m a Christian just like you. I also remember the Bible saying something about love and forgiveness and not judging others. And with regard to the verse you just read, what about the other admonitions in Leviticus?” Nichelle reached for her notes. “Leviticus 20:10 says, and this, too, is a quote:
If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife—with the wife of his neighbor—both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.”
She faced the audience again. “But, of course, I’m sure nobody in this room has
ever
committed adultery.”

This time there was a loud rustling of bodies in chairs, but no outward sentiments of support.

“I think it’s important that we start taking responsibility for our own lives. I suspect that there are women in this room who don’t even want to ask their man to wear a condom, much less get tested. But it’s your body, therefore, it’s
your
job to protect it.” Nichelle gripped both sides of the podium. “And you’re mistaken if you believe you’re going to protect yourself from HIV simply by outing gay men. You’re completely ignoring the fact that women who’ve been infected are also spreading the disease to men . . . straight men.”

The warm eyes that had welcomed her were now full of contempt.

“I think this group’s efforts would be better spent teaching women to protect themselves. We should all get tested and demand that anybody we sleep with be tested, as well.

“More than anything else,” Nichelle continued, her confidence level suddenly heightened, “I fear for our daughters, our granddaughters and our nieces. They’re growing up in a climate of sexual promiscuity. Many of them don’t even view oral sex as sex. We need to talk openly to them about the danger of HIV and teach them to honor their bodies. And if they’re not going to abstain from sex, at least encourage them to use a condom.”

One woman frowned as if she had just uttered a dirty word.

“There’s a lot of pain in this room. I’m in pain.” Nichelle felt her eyes get misty. “I lost one of my best friends. Maya Washington was an incredible woman who had a lot to give this world and I miss her like I’ve never missed anybody in my life.” She could almost feel Maya place an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

“But in addition to the pain, there’s also a lot of hatred. Hatred that is coming from people who profess to know God, to love Him and to follow His Word. I don’t think hate is consistent with God’s message, and I don’t think it’s the answer to solving this crisis. In fact, I think this kind of hate created it.”

Now the murmuring was back. Nobody could shoot a mean look like an irate black woman. Nichelle wondered if she would need a security guard to escort her to her car.

“You’re a hypocrite!” someone called out. “You’re the one who sued Eugene Nelson. Why didn’t you just love and forgive him for killing your friend?”

“You know,” Nichelle said, “at the time, I thought suing Eugene
was
the right thing to do. But I don’t anymore.”

“So we’re just supposed to accept this abomination?” Rhonda asked, her tone just as threatening as her body language.

“I don’t have all the answers,” Nichelle said. “I just know all this hate isn’t one of them.”

V
ernetta pushed a half-eaten bran muffin to the corner of her desk. As much as she tried, she could not shake the thoughts running through her head.
Could Special actually have killed Eugene?
She refused to even consider the possibility that her best friend had murdered the other men.

It was time for Vernetta to start thinking like a lawyer, not a friend. She had to weigh the evidence as if Special were a paying client, not her friend.

She reached for a legal pad, then drew a line down the middle of the page. She was about to prepare a list of the evidence for and against Special when the telephone rang.

Vernetta checked the caller ID display. She did not recognize the number. Having an assistant who had time to screen her calls was one of the big-firm luxuries she missed most.

The voice on the other end of the line was only vaguely familiar.

“I’m calling from Vista Electronics,” the caller said. “We met a few weeks ago. I’m Sheryl Milton, the HR Director.”

Vernetta quickly remembered the woman who had escorted them to the conference room. She was surprised that Milton had tracked her down at her new firm and wondered why she was calling.

“How can I help you?”

“We’ve extended a job offer to your colleague, Haley Prescott. I wanted to ask you a few questions about her.”

Vernetta felt her skin prickle. Could Haley really have been arrogant enough to think Vernetta would give her a glowing recommendation? “Haley listed me as a reference?”

“No,” Sheryl said. “But I know the two of you worked together. No one ever lists references who might say anything bad about them. I always do a little extra digging. The HR and legal groups here work hand in hand. I wanted to double check to make sure Haley’s the right personality fit for our team. So may I ask you a few questions?”

Vernetta would have loved to screw over Haley, knowing Haley wouldn’t have passed up the same opportunity. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for this. We didn’t work on that many cases together.”

“Let me be frank,” Sheryl said, “I sensed some tension between the two of you during your visit here. I just want to make sure we’re bringing on a real team player.”

Then you definitely don’t need to hire Haley.
“I thought you already made Haley an offer?”

“Yes, but it’s contingent upon passing a background check, a drug test, and a reference check.”

Vernetta inhaled. “Haley’s really bright. Even though she’s pretty junior, she’s a real go-getter.”

“Most people who graduate from the top of their class at Yale Law School tend to be smart. That’s not what I’m asking you. How is she in terms of working with others? We don’t need another egomaniac lawyer around here. I need you to level with me.”

Vernetta knew that if she told the truth, Haley wouldn’t get the job. As she was weighing her options, Sheryl read between the lines.

“I guess your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

“Haley’s a good attorney,” Vernetta said finally, “but if you’re looking for a team player, that might be a bit of a stretch for her. She likes being the shining star. Haley’s young. So she may learn to be more of a collaborator in time, but that’s a skill she hasn’t picked up yet.”

Sheryl asked a few more questions, then hung up. Vernetta was trying to convince herself that she had nothing to feel guilty about when the telephone rang again. This time it was O’Reilly.

“Hey, kiddo. I just wanted to give you advance warning that you might be getting a call from someone at Vista Electronics asking about Haley. Put in a good word for her, okay?”

Vernetta quietly sighed. “I just got off the phone with the HR Director.”

O’Reilly let a long beat pass. “And you said glowing things about her . . . right?”

“I told them she was very bright.”

“And what else did you say?”

“I told the truth, O’Reilly.”

He grunted. “And exactly what was the truth?”

“That Haley isn’t much of a team player.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“It was necessary for me to give my honest opinion.”

She could feel O’Reilly’s fury through the telephone line.

“You seem awfully invested in Haley getting that job,” Vernetta said boldly.

“Having a person on the inside would mean more work for the firm.”

“Is that all?”

“Exactly what are you getting at?”

Vernetta was tired of holding her tongue. “I’m sure you’ve heard all the rumors. I heard Haley was asked to leave the firm because she was involved in a personal relationship with you.”

“Since when do you put stock in the law firm rumor mill?”

Since I saw Haley coming out of your office with her hair mussed and her lipstick smeared and since you kept me occupied so she could sneak out of that restaurant.
“Are they true?”

“I’m not going to waste my time confirming or denying ridiculous law firm gossip.”

“Well, I’m sure if Haley doesn’t get the job, she’ll still land on her feet. You’ll probably see to that.”

“Actually,” O’Reilly said, “you can bet on it.”

T
he next day, Nichelle invited Vernetta and J.C. to lunch at T.G.I. Friday’s.

“It feels strange not having Special here,” J.C. said. “Maybe we should order a Long Island iced tea and set it on her side of the table.” They all smiled.

Vernetta told them about her conversation with O’Reilly.

“Sounds to me like he was definitely screwing her,” Nichelle said.

“There’s no way the firm would have asked her to leave if he hadn’t been,” Vernetta replied.

J.C. opened her menu. “Powerful men feel they can do whatever they please. And basically they can.”

A waitress brought their drinks and took their orders.

“Well, I might as well get started,” Nichelle said. “I had a specific reason for asking you guys to join me for lunch.” She looked over her shoulder to confirm that the booth behind them was empty. “I’m worried about Special’s case. Particularly that camera. I’m scared to death that they’re going to be able to restore that picture Special took at Eugene’s place.”

“You should be,” J.C. said, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Do you know whether the camera has already gone out for testing?” Nichelle asked.

“Not yet. Contrary to what you see on
CSI
, it could take weeks or months to get something like that done.”

“That’s what I figured. If it hasn’t been done yet, I think there’s something we
can
do to help Special. But it’s going to fall on you, J.C.”

Vernetta eyed Nichelle. Whatever she was about to suggest, she had neglected to share with her. “Nichelle, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about doing everything in our power to make sure Special doesn’t end up in jail for the rest of her life.”

Vernetta grew nervous. “Everything like what?”

Nichelle glanced over her shoulder again. “Like switching the camera the police have with another one just like it,” she whispered.

“Nichelle!” both Vernetta and J.C. sputtered at the same time.

Vernetta turned sideways to face her. “I can’t believe what you just said. You of all people.”

“Don’t give me that,” Nichelle shot back. “I get tired of people always acting like I’m Miss Goody Two Shoes. We all know the system isn’t fair. There’s no way Special should be facing a murder charge, but she is. And it’s up to us to do whatever we have to do to make sure she isn’t convicted of murder when all she’s really guilty of is harassment.”

“Do you understand what you’re asking J.C. to do?” Vernetta said. “You’re not just asking her to put her job on the line, you’re asking her to commit a crime and risk going to jail herself. We shouldn’t even be discussing this. So let’s just change the subject.”

“It won’t be a crime if she doesn’t get caught. And she won’t.”

“How can you say that?” J.C. demanded. “Even if I could make a switch, where in the hell would I get another camera like that.”

Nichelle looked at both of them, then opened her purse, and pulled out a small rectangular object wrapped in a brown paper bag. She pushed it over to J.C.’s side of the table.

“The camera inside that bag is the same model as Special’s. I bought both of them on the same day. I gave one to Special last year for her birthday, and kept the other one for myself. They’re exactly alike.”