Untitled (28 page)

M
oses sat in Half's old Plymouth Duster on Wyoming and watched his ex-lawyer, Ted Walker, buy his dinner. Walker was at the take-out window of Greene's Hamburgers on the corner. The smell of food made Moses' stomach growl. He'd been following Walker all day and had not stopped to eat. It was okay. He needed all the edge he could get for this job. He wasn't afraid of dealing with Walker. He had certainly taken out men before, but what he had planned for Walker was really not his sort of thing.

  Walker got his burgers in a white bag that was already staining from the food inside. He got into his car, a red Seville STS. At the wheel was a black man who could have only been a bodyguard. Even though he was sitting, Moses could see that the man was pretty large.

  Ted was smart, Moses thought. He knew an enemy was at large, and even though any smart man would have jumped town, Walker was not taking any chances. The driver pulled off with Walker. Moses waited a minute, then drove off behind them, cutting through the restaurant's parking lot.

  He followed Walker as he drove down Six Mile, deeper into the west side. It was late afternoon and would be dark soon. That was good, thought Moses. He'd need cover of darkness to finish his job.

  Walker slowed at the Southfield Freeway entrance, and for a second Moses thought that he wasn't going home. But Walker continued west into ritzy Rosedale Park.

  Walker's car turned down a beautiful block in the neighborhood. Nice houses, green lawns, and fancy mailboxes adorned each residence. Walker and his bodyguard stopped at a white two-story house at the end of the block and went inside.

  Moses parked his car on a side street and hoped it didn't attract too much attention. Many of the cars in the area were new, and his might stand out among them.

  Moses caught a glimpse of his face in the rearview mirror. He was looking very different now. He'd shaved his head and cut off all his facial hair. He didn't like it, but it did make him look very different, younger and cleaner. He'd been out all day and didn't believe that anyone had recognized him.

  Walker had been married but had gotten divorced two years ago. Moses hoped that he wasn't living with anyone. That would only make the job much more complicated. The bodyguard would be trouble enough.

  Moses got out of the car and slowly made his way around to the back of the house.

  Dake and Nita could not have betrayed him without the help of Walker. They needed to make sure that he didn't beat the rap, and buying off an asshole like Walker was as easy as showing him the money.

  Moses went into Walker's backyard. He had a standard alarm on the place, one that he'd foolishly let Moses pick for him. It was easy for Moses to disable it

  Moses looked inside a window. The bodyguard was armed and sat on a sofa while Walker ate and talked urgently on the phone.

  Moses would only have one chance at this. He checked his gun, making sure the silencer was on it. Gunshots in this neighborhood would certainly arouse suspicion.

  He went to the back door and disabled the lock on the doorknob. He turned the knob slowly by degrees, careful not to make any loud noise. It was a pretty big house, and Walker was in the front part of the home. He hoped they would not hear him so far away. It was ironic, Moses thought, that so many times he'd used his skill to break in to steal. This time he had no intention of taking anything.

  The door opened. His heart was beating fast as he stepped inside. If he had been heard, the bodyguard would be waiting for him.

  He entered the house into a rear pantry off the kitchen. No one was around.

  Moses heard Walker's muffled voice on the phone in the living room. He removed his gun from his waistband and moved toward the front of the house. Soon, he could glimpse Walker. He was still on the phone, talking loudly to the person on the other end.

  Moses panicked. The bodyguard was gone. Where was the bastard? Maybe he had heard him coming in and was sneaking up behind him. Moses nervously looked around but saw no one. Walker yelled something into the telephone then hung up and sat down.

  Moses heard a toilet flush. The bodyguard was taking a leak, he thought. That made things perfect.

  Moses stepped into the room as the bodyguard came out of the bathroom tugging on his zipper. He was a thickly muscled man whose suit fit him terribly.

  Moses raised his gun, thinking absently that the man had to be at least three hundred pounds. The bodyguard caught sight of Moses. A look of terror spread over his face. He reached into his jacket, yelling something that Moses couldn't understand.

  Moses fired, hitting him in the cheek. The silencer reduced the sound to a loud "pop." The wounded man grabbed his face, still trying to take out his gun. Moses' next shot caught him in the chest. The sound was louder now, clearly a muffled gunshot. The bodyguard fell to one knee. Moses shot him again in the chest, and the sound was even louder, though still muffled. The bodyguard collapsed on the floor face first.

  Moses turned the gun toward Walker. The silencer had done its job, but it was probably shot now. He pulled it off the barrel. "Hey, Ted," he said.

  Walker choked on the last bite of the burger he was eating, spitting it up on himself.

  "You should watch that," said Moses. "Red meat's a killer."

  "Moses," said Walker. Fear filled his eyes. "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong, man."

  "I don't have a lot of time to fuck with you. No games, no lies. Get up, and go into the kitchen."

  Walker got up on wobbly legs and started to move. Moses raised his gun, and hit him hard on the head. Walker fell to the floor, yelling and grabbing at his head. Moses hit him again, and Walker went out, falling to one side.

  Moses picked up the lawyer and dragged him into the kitchen. He pulled out a rope he'd gotten from Half and tied Walker to a wooden chair.

  Moses finally noticed his surroundings. Walker had a house filled with expensive furniture and art. Ted was living pretty goddamned good, Moses thought. How many brothers had he helped railroad into prison to get all this shit? Walker was one of those criminal lawyers who had forgotten that he was supposed to be above the dirt he dealt in. He'd helped Moses launder money, taken drugs for payment, and had bribed at least one judge. The only problem with a crooked lawyer is that you never know when he'll turn on you.

  Moses tied Walker's torso and legs to the chair, then tied his hands to the armrests at the wrist. Then he gagged him with a greasy kitchen towel. Now he had to wake him up. He hoped the bastard didn't have a concussion.

  Moses heard a sound from behind him.

  He turned and went back into the den. The man he had shot was on one knee and was pulling out a .45 in one hand. He was covered in blood and appeared very weak. The wound on his face was puffy and pinkish, a stream of blood ran down his jowl into his thick neck. His blue shirt had a large purple stain on it. He was breathing hard and blood bubbled through his thick lips.

  Moses had to get him quick. If the dying man fired the gun, surely a neighbor in the well-heeled neighborhood would hear it. The silencer on his gun was off, and if he fired it, the sound would be just as loud.

  "Damn," Moses said.

  He quickly grabbed a knife from the kitchen. He went

into the den and walked up to the man. Blood was everywhere. Moses easily took the gun from the dying man.

  Moses stepped behind the man and buried the knife into his back. The bodyguard gagged and fell forward. Moses pushed the knife in hard with his foot until the man stopped struggling. He hated this. It was so much easier to shoot a man. This cutting and stabbing shit was for sick people.

  Moses removed the knife and went back into the kitchen. He was surprised to find Walker awake. He struggled in the chair, tears streaming down his face.

  Moses walked over to Walker and cut half through the baby finger on his right hand. Walker yelled, but the gag muffled it. Moses tied a rag around Walker's hand to stop the bleeding. Moses waited for him to calm down.

  "Okay, now that we understand each other, let's talk. Did Dake and Nita pay you to leave me in jail?"

  Walker shook his head. Moses laid the knife on the baby finger on his left hand. Walker nodded his head vigorously.

  "Okay," said Moses. "And did you pay the guards to have that sick muthafucka try to kill me in jail?"

  Walker nodded again. Moses cursed, then cut another finger on Walker's right hand. Walker screamed a high-pitched scream and almost rocked the chair over.

  "You fuckin' piece of shit! You should know I don't kill easy." Moses waited for the man to settle again. This was so sick, he thought, but effective. "Now for the big one. Where are those two muthafuckas? I'm gonna remove this gag, and when I do, you talk nice and soft, or else."

  Moses removed the gag, Walker heaved, sucking in air. He cried like a child.

  "Go on, tell it, nigga."

  Walker's eyes were filled with tears. "Please, please man, don't do this."

  Moses raised the knife.

  "Okay, okay. They . . . they're in a house in Warren."

  "What street, fool? That's a big city." Walker's hand was dripping blood all over the floor. He had to get the lawyer to tell it all soon, or Walker would pass out.

  "Chapel . . . Eight Mile . . ." His voice was filled with pain and terror.

  "Figure no one would look for them in the suburbs," said Moses. "They always was smart those two. Where's the hustle now?"

  "A warehouse in Detroit . . . Tybo's. Let me go . . . I can pay you," said Walker. "I got money hidden . . ."

  "Where is it?" asked Moses.

  "No!" Walker yelled, then grimaced in pain. "You let me go, then I'll tell."

  "No," said Moses. "The money is in this house. A good thief knows that a man never keeps his stash too far away."

  "No," said Walker. "It's at the airport." His bloody hand shook violently.

  "Sorry. But you never were a good liar." Moses put the knife to his throat and cut it as Walker yelled.

  Moses watched him die, then looked around the house. The phone rang and he let the machine pick it up. It was a girl named Terry who wanted to have a rendezvous with Walker.

  "Too bad, Terry," said Moses. "Gotta find you some new dick." Moses laughed.

  Moses checked all the usual places people hide money, closets, floorboards. Walker had a safe but was too smart to put anything there. Moses finally found the money in a freezer in his basement. A stupid place, thought Moses. There was about ten thousand in large bills. This money would help him, he thought.

  He had to get to Dake and Nita soon. When they found out Walker was dead, they'd know who did it. They'd run and then he'd never catch them.

  Moses went back upstairs and cleaned up the mess he'd made. He cleared out the freezer and put Walker inside. The bodyguard he hid in a room in the basement. It was cool and damp, and would keep the bodies for a while, he thought. It was quite a job and took him two hours.

  Moses finally stepped out of the house into the cool of the night. Someone was cooking fried chicken, and it smelled good. His stomach growled again. He was sweating, tired, and now he was hungry. The money bulged inside a paper bag he'd found in the kitchen. He decided to go and get something to eat. He deserved it.

  Moses got into his car and drove. He never saw Lewis Quince, who'd been following him all evening.

M
arshall had been prepared for a fight during the preliminary examination. The hearing to find probable cause was an intense first look at the weaponry of the enemy, but the matter had been calm and relaxed. Normally, Marshall would have been ecstatic that the defense had not bothered to put up a fight, but Rashad was too smart to make anything easy. He was focusing his efforts elsewhere.

  Langworthy listened casually as Marshall showed the tape of the assassination and presented the DNA evidence. Even though the PCR test was vulnerable, it was still enough, along with the illegal gun and ballistics evidence, to keep Mbutu in jail on the charge. Rashad's light crossexamination of witnesses didn't do anything to change that notion. Langworthy then quickly ruled that the case should proceed.

  Marshall had expected this. No way was Langworthy going to kick the case at this stage. Even a liberal judge was not that foolish.

  Marshall's team had been shocked when he showed them the Zapruder film and compared it to the Douglas assassination tape. Their faces expressed something akin to terror as they realized the similarity. Walter had to leave to get some air. Ryder dismissed it as a coincidence, and Roberta noted that they didn't have to tell the defendant of the similarity as it was not relevant evidence. Marshall didn't know what it meant, but he felt better just sharing the secret with someone.

  Marshall readied himself for a procedure much more important than the probable cause hearing. The crucial undertaking of jury selection had been rushed like everything else in the case. The jury pool was large. Normally, people tried to get out of jury duty, but everyone seemed to want in on this case.

  April Kelly, Rashad's jury consultant, was a tall woman with brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She'd come into court and had never even looked at Marshall and his team. She only had eyes for the jury pool.

  A jury consultant was essentially a paid observer of human nature. They assisted in picking a sympathetic jury for a party in a lawsuit. There were no formal requirements for this job. Many consultants, however, were trained psychologists or behavioralists of some kind. There were even several well-known "psychic consultants" who worked throughout the United States. Kelly was one of the best. She was a lawyer and had a psychology degree.