Pyramid Deception (23 page)

“I'm glad my efforts weren't wasted. How's Eddie?”

“The big guy?” Rissik asked. “That's one tough son of a bitch. The docs said he'll be good as new in a week or two.”

“And Nas?”

“Didn't resist when we took him into custody,” Rissik said. “He begged me to let him call his mother. I told the boys to let him call from the car on the way to the detention center. That must have been an interesting conversation.”

Hannibal chuckled. “You have no idea. I met their mother. He's probably glad he's going to be in a cell where he's safe from her.” He stood up slowly, glancing over at the remains of the house that came so close to being his unmarked grave.

“So you know these guys?”

“Sort of,” Hannibal said.

“I figured they were just three of the hundreds of thugs you've pissed off in the last few years. At least, that's what I figured until I realized where we are. That's Wash Monroe's place you're staring at, isn't it? This all has something to do with his murder. Between that and this crap, property values here are going to go to hell.”

Hannibal offered a half smile. That was probably as close to a joke as Rissik would ever get.

“Speaking of which, where the hell are the owners of this house?” Cindy asked. “I keep thinking of them driving up and seeing all these police cars and an ambulance pulling away from their house.”

“Not even an issue,” Rissik said. “The neighbors tell us they're in Europe on vacation for another week. If they knew what happened in their house, they'd probably extend their vacation.”

Hannibal squinted against the morning sun, missing his sunglasses but knowing he would never find them out there in the yard. He assumed they would eventually get eaten by a lawn
mower. “When they get back they're going to want to know everything that happened to their home. Sure hope I'm not the one who's going to have to explain it to them.”

“Don't know about that,” Rissik said, “But you're sure as hell going to have to explain it all to me.”

“Orson, do you suppose we could save the official statements until after we get to some fresh clothes?”

Rissik huffed out a sigh. “I suppose the statements can wait until tomorrow. I'll be occupied questioning your assailants, even though they look more like the victims. Just tell me if you think they had anything to do with Monroe's murder.”

Hannibal chuckled. “Best I could gather, they think it was me. They came after me to avenge his death. But I've got one wild idea who the killer might be. I don't think I can confirm it on my own, but if you could do a little digging into some government records for me…”

“Why of course Mister Detective Man, of course I'll do your research and legwork for you,” Rissik said, slapping Hannibal's back. “Is there anything else I can do for you? A massage perhaps?”

“Well, actually, do you suppose we could get a ride back to Crystal City? That's where I left my car before these nitwits snatched us up.”

A crisp fall breeze cut into Hannibal as he stepped out of Rissik's car. Crystal City was a whole different place in the light of day. Being the commercial side of Arlington, traffic was dense on a Monday morning. The river of cars was slow but the tide was strong, the flow forcing its way down Route 1 toward the Pentagon or on into The District. Tributaries branched off to flow down into the underground parking lots. And Hannibal knew there was even more hustle and bustle underground where a mass of commuters poured out of the Metro trains into rented government space. Those offices filled the buildings on the east side of Route 1, AKA Richmond Highway, AKA Jefferson Davis Highway.

There wasn't that much foot traffic, but the people who were on the street all walked like they had someplace to be and were already late. Hannibal had to force his way into that flow to open the front passenger door for Cindy. She thanked Rissik for the ride, turned to take Hannibal's outstretched hand, and stood as close to him as possible. As the car pulled away Hannibal looked down into her face, scrubbed clean and fresh. He loved her without makeup and with her hair just a little unruly.

“You are lovely.”

Her head fell forward into his chest. “Get me into your car.”

“Self-conscious?”

“Hannibal, I'm standing on the street wrapped in a…”

“Mr. Jones!” A voice called from behind him. Cindy pulled even closer to him, muttering, “Oh, no,” under her breath.

Hannibal turned to see the woman pushing through the crowd rushing to work, shoved downstream a bit but pushing back up to meet them at the curb.

“Mrs. Thomas, what are you doing here?” Hannibal asked. He had imagined her a night person and expected her to sleep until noon. She wore casual clothes this time, black slacks with a plain white blouse and tennis shoes, but her hair and makeup were perfect. He felt Cindy cringe in self comparison.

“Mr. Jones I had to see you, to apologize,” Sarah Thomas said. “Nasir called me, woke me up to tell me where he was and more important, what he had done. After I got finished cussing him out I knew I had to talk to you. I figured you'd have to come back for your car so I waited and…”

The rush of Sarah's words had taken Hannibal by surprise and frozen him in place. Now she paused, as if seeing them for the first time. Her mouth stayed open as she took in Cindy's appearance. A revolving series of emotions played across her face: guilt, pity, sorrow, confusion, and back to guilt. Her right hand reached out but didn't quite touch Cindy's shoulder.

“Oh my Lord, you poor child. You have had a horrible night and here I am running on and, well I know you have NEVER appeared in public looking like that. You must be… please,
please come down in my office. We need to get you cleaned up, and I think I have some things in your size.”

Sarah stepped back and directly into a marching businessman. He thumped into her, scowled, but then was swept away by the human current. Hannibal wrapped an arm around Cindy's shoulders and guided her across the sidewalk. Sarah opened the door to The Lucent and waved them inside. Clearly she had been expecting them, since the door was already unlocked.

Without patrons or workers, the place reminded Hannibal of a movie set. There was a sense that this place was not quite real. A faint scent of pine hung in the air and everything gleamed, even the poles. Sarah guided them to the elevator, followed only by the echo of their footsteps on the tile.

The ride down was short and a bit claustrophobic. Hannibal was braced for action when the doors slid open but of course they faced nothing but an empty room. Sarah quickly ushered Cindy out and across her office to an almost hidden door. Hannibal stood for a moment, surprised to be left alone. When he heard a shower running he sat in the same chair he had used on his last visit. He followed his girl's unseen actions by sound alone while replaying his last conversation in that room.

The flowing water ended. Soft footsteps. Hangers scraped across a rod. Material ruffled. Muted conversation. A quiet giggle that could only be his girl. Hannibal smiled. And as he listened he mentally sorted through the clues Sarah had shared when they talked.

When the two women reappeared Cindy was transformed. The simple, bright blue sleeveless dress fit her as if it were made for her. The wide belt accented her trim waist. Her hair had been curled and brushed out to give it life without calling attention to itself. Her face, her arms, her legs, all of her skin glowed with freshness. That, the lack of jewelry, and the fact that she was barefoot made her seem years younger to Hannibal. This was the Cindy Santiago he might have met in High School.

“What are you staring at lover?” Cindy asked. Hannibal just smiled, and after a moment, Cindy giggled a bit. Like a schoolgirl.

“Come over here, honey,” Sarah said. “Let's finish off that look.” She guided Cindy to a vanity with a three-part mirror. She sat Cindy facing the mirrors and began to work her hair with a brush and short spurts of hairspray.

“I've got a feeling you wish The Lord had sent you a little girl,” Hannibal said.

“That's why I kept trying,” Sarah said, smiling at him in the mirror. “But you know I love my boys, every one of them.”

“I'm sure of it. That's why I was going to visit you later today anyway. I think you'd do just about anything to help Darryl, Eddie and Nas out of the trouble they've gotten themselves in.”

Sarah moved the brush a little more slowly. “Look I know they did wrong but I was hoping we could find a way to get past this business. They didn't really hurt you…”

Hannibal waved her words away. “Last night is small stuff. I don't intend to press any charges if that's what you're worrying about.”

“I knew you were a right guy.”

“But that's just the tip of the iceberg,” Hannibal said. “Your boys are implicated in a couple of murders.”

Sarah's face clouded up. “You think my boys really killed somebody?”

“I don't know. I don't think so. They made it clear to me that they really cared about Wash, so it's hard for me to imagine them hurting him. But the court might not see it the way I do.”

“What can I do?” Sarah asked. Cindy's hair was almost perfectly styled as Sarah's expert hands moved of their own accord. “There must be something… some way I can help my boys.”

“Actually, there is something.” Hannibal locked eyes with Sarah in the mirror. “If you will help me get access to some
official records, I think I can figure this all out and maybe keep Darryl and Eddie and Nas from facing a life sentence.”

Hannibal grinned, and then admitted to himself that the oddest things would make him smile. In this case he was thinking about government euphemisms. People passed away instead of dying. Fanatics didn't commit genocide but instead engaged in ethnic cleansing. Women had pregnancy terminations instead of abortions. And Fairfax County, Virginia didn't have a jail. No, they had an Adult Detention Center.

Hannibal got as comfortable as he could in a purposely uncomfortable chair in the visiting area of that Center, which was almost within shouting distance of Rissik's office. The stark gray blocks of the jail sat right next door to the imposing brick county courthouse building with its trio of three-story arches on the front. County police offices also shared the grounds of the Public Safety Center – whose name gave Hannibal another smile.

While he waited Hannibal stared at the blank, beige wall of the visitors' area, replaying the week's events like an old, sepia-toned movie. A week had passed since his visit with Sarah, and it had been a challenging week for him and Cindy. Monday she had returned to work, playing catch-up on the cases she was working before her world had collapsed. Hannibal had a mountain of correspondence he had ignored, but while he tended to it he continued to dig into the dark corners of the life of George Washington Monroe. He was sure that was the path to understanding his death.

A deputy swung the door open and Hannibal stayed quiet as Darryl limped into the room. It saddened Hannibal to see how natural Darryl looked in a bright orange jumpsuit. The prisoner settled into the chair across the table and glared at his visitor.

“Thanks for seeing me,” Hannibal said.

“Wanted to see mama.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said. “She's talking with Nas right now. And I know Sarah told you to let me talk to you.” He also knew she was taking care of her boys. Darryl was clean shaven, his hair was brushed and Hannibal could smell a very masculine cologne. Personal hygiene was one way an inmate could hang onto his humanity when surrounded by animals.

“Yeah.” Darryl almost spit the word. “Now I got to wait a week to see her. One visitor a week. You better have something mighty damn worthy to say to show why it ought to be you.”

“I do. Unless you like the idea of being stuck in here. Is this your idea of a nice vacation?”

“Very funny,” Darryl said. “I hate this place.”

“Yeah, you and thirteen hundred other knuckleheads. Except maybe you don't deserve to be here.”

To his credit, Darryl stared straight into Hannibal's eyes. “No, man. We did what we did. Kidnapping is what it was, and I'll take the rap for what I did. But it was me, alright? I forced Eddie and Nas into it.”

Hannibal brushed the lie out of the air with his hand. “What you did to me, that's not even the point, man.”

“So what is the point?” Darryl leaned in, the edge of his hands slapping the table.

“The point?” Hannibal repeated through clenched teeth. “The point is the woman. The woman who was gunned down right in front of me. I can't just let that go.”

“So?”

“So? You do realize I've got enough on you to pin that murder to you, don't you?”

Hannibal figured Darryl must play a lot of poker. He closed his eyes for half a second, but betrayed no concern. He just said, “Maybe.”

Hannibal was a poker player too, and knew how to play a weak hand. “No maybe about it, moron. I can make sure you go down for this.”

“That's bullshit,” Darryl said, leaning back. “I ain't kill nobody.”

“I don't think you did,” Hannibal said in a quieter tone. “but I think you can help me figure out who did.”

A new light appeared in Darryl's eyes, a light he rushed to hide. “No, I don't think I can.”

“Don't think you can, or don't think you will?”

“No, I can't,” Darryl said, shaking his head. “I just can't. And even if I could, why the hell would I want to help you? Your bitch stabbed me in the leg.”

Hannibal looked down and took a breath. When he looked up he bared his teeth. “You don't disrespect her.”

“She shouldn't have stabbed me.”

“You shouldn't have pointed a gun at me.”

“You shouldn't have killed Papa Wash.”