by Roy Glenn
The truth however was somewhat different, and both Nick and Wanda were both still in denial. Neither would break down and admit the obvious, that there was something going on between them. Not even to themselves.
There is one more thing that happened that year. The new joy of Mike and Shy’s life. Five months ago, Shy gave birth to a baby girl. Mike had bragged that he would produce man-child, a son to carry on the family name. But she was a beautiful baby girl, and she instantly took her father’s heart. They named her Michelle after her father, actually, he insisted, but she looked just like her mother.
Once the plane had arrived at the gate, they got off quickly, made their way through the busy terminal, and went to the parking lot. They piled into Nick’s new Cadillac XLR and headed back to the Bronx. On the way, Mike called Shy.
“Hello, Cassandra.” Even though everyone called her Shy, he always called her by her government name.
“Hi, baby. You back in the city?”
“Just got off the plane. What you doing?”
“Same place you left me, on the couch watching TV.”
“How’s my baby?”
“I just told you, your baby is fine. I’m sitting on the couch watching TV. However, if you’re asking about our baby, Michelle is fine; she’s at Pam sister’s house. I called to check on her a little while ago.”
“Trying to get me alone, huh?”
“You figured that one out all by yourself.”
“I missed you, baby. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Well hurry up, I’m here waiting for you,” Shy said.
“You talk to Freeze today?”
“Yeah, he said he was coming by later tonight to drop something off for me.”
“If he gets there before I do, tell him to wait for me.”
“Okay.”
“So I’ll see you in about an hour, baby.”
“I love you,” Shy said. “So much.”
As Nick made his way to the Bronx, Mike asked about the new car. “What kind of engine does this heap got?”
Nick looked over at him. “Heap, huh? Well this heap got a three hundred and thirty horsepower North star V-8 engine.”
“You know when I first saw these; I thought it was a new corvette.”
“No, this is definitely not a Corvette.”
“I know that. I just said I thought it was.” Mike said.
“Don’t get me wrong there are some similarities. The XLR is built in the same plant that builds Corvettes. It has essentially the same electronics, suspension, body structure, braking, and all that shit.”
“So what you’re telling me is that it’s a Corvette with a new body style?”
“It's a luxury car with a performance-car engine,” Nick explained as he drove. “It’s aimed at the Mercedes-Benz' SL500, Jaguar's XKR, and the Lexus SC 430.”
As he pulled up in front of the house Mike looked at him and said, “Why don’t you come by in the morning and pick me up.”
“What time?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know, but not too early.”
Nick laughed. “I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, but like I said, not too early, Cassandra hates it when the phone rings early in the morning,” Mike said as he got out of the car.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m going by the club,” Nick said. “I’ll probably end up being there all night.”
“Call me when you’re on your way,” Mike said and watched as Nick drove off before finally turning and heading to the house. Mike unlocked the front door, turned off the alarm, and stepped inside.
“Cassandra,” he called out to his wife. But there was no answer. Mike went into the living room, and noticed the television was tuned to the local news on CBS. “Cassandra,” he called to her again, but still there was no answer.
The remote was on the couch, so he picked it up and turned off the TV. Where the hell is she? He thought before dropping the remote on the couch and heading upstairs, thinking that it was funny that she would have gone out just that fast.
Maybe she’s hiding.
Mike took his time; carefully looking into each of the upstairs rooms, but Shy was nowhere to be found. Something ain’t right, he thought and went back downstairs.
For the life of him, he had no idea where she could be. Mike went back in the living room and called out to her once again, “Cassandra, where are you?” but once again he got no response. He sat down on the couch and picked up the phone to dial her cell phone number. When he heard the phone ringing, he followed the sound.
The sound of Shy’s cell ringing led him to the kitchen.
“Figures she’d be hiding in the kitchen. She knows it’s the last place I’d look for her,” Mike said aloud, as he walked toward the kitchen. “What are you doing in here, Cassandra?” He opened the kitchen door and immediately dropped to his knees.
There on the kitchen floor, he found her, lying there with her arms out in front of her and her face turned to the side. Both eyes were blackened, nearly purple; there were blotches of blood on her cheek. Her face was swollen so much he nearly couldn’t believe he was looking at his wife.
There was so much blood, and there were bullet wounds in her back. One just below her left shoulder blade, another a little below it and the two near her lower back. He reached out and took her tattered body into his arms. He looked around the room. Everything that was on the counter was on the floor. He wondered if somebody had broken in and did this to her, but that was impossible since the alarm was still on when he got there. Mike pulled her closer.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” A single tear fell from his eye. “I should have been here to protect you.” He grabbed her blood-drenched body, holding her tighter. “Who could have done this to you, baby.”
Just then, he heard what sounded like banging on the front door, but he couldn’t move. He sat there rocking his dead wife’s body in his arms, cradling her, silently apologizing for not being there to protect her.
Mike held Shy’s lifeless body in his arms, willing it to come back to life. Suddenly, the kitchen door flew open and four cops rushed in with their guns drawn.
“Police!” one yelled.
“Nice and slow, put your hands up and move away from the body,” another cop said.
Mike looked at each one as they spoke but didn’t move.
“I said, put your hands up. Now!”
He looked down into his wife’s eyes, and then back at the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his head. It was as if he had suddenly realized the gravity of the situation. He moved painstakingly slow. He eased Shy’s body back to the floor, his hand shook as he closed her eyes and then he sighed and put his hands up.
“Now,” one cop said. “Lace your fingers behind your head.” He holstered his weapon and took out his handcuffs. The cop approached Mike very carefully and placed the cuffs on him.
It was the first time Mike had ever been handcuffed. He didn’t like the feeling of cold steel clamped around his wrists. He felt caged already despite the fact that they hadn’t even left his kitchen.
Mike took one last look at Shy.
“I love you, baby, and I’m gonna kill whoever did this to you,” Mike vowed softly as the cop stood him up and ushered him out to the patrol car.
“You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at no cost. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” the officer recited.
Black didn’t respond.
As he sat handcuffed in the backseat, Mike closed his eyes and could see her face, not the beaten bloody mass that he had just held in his arms. He saw her as she was the last time he saw her. Mike wondered who would have a reason to do something like that to her. Considering the life they both had
led; the list of suspects would be long. He felt the cold steel around his wrist and wondered how the cops could have gotten there so quickly. Had somebody in the neighborhood took the time to call the police? That wasn’t very likely; people around there minded their own business.
The biggest question was who? Who would viciously beat Shy and then shoot her four times in the back? And more importantly, why?
Chapter Three
When Detectives Goodson and Harris arrived at yet another murder in the hood, it was no big deal. A few patrol cars, ambulance, a small crowd had formed, it was just another crime scene.
“I see the crime scene guys beat us here again,” Harris mentioned as they got out of their car.
“I like to think of it as the natural order of things,” Goodson said and the two of them headed for the house. “Let’s hope the nigger in the back seat is the perp.”
“Wouldn’t that be a switch?” Harris glanced in the backseat of the police car and then waved at officer Hardaway as they passed. Mike looked at the detectives as they went in the house.
Not these two assholes.
The detectives entered the house and were told that the body was in the kitchen. Goodson came through the door first. The uniformed officers that arrived on the scene first, officers Rodney, Zachary, and Persons were in the kitchen along with the crime scene investigation team. Goodson looked at the body.
“What do we have here?” he asked and kneeled down next to the body. “Damn, somebody fucked her up pretty bad.”
“From the looks of it after he beat her, she tried to get away maybe and he shot her in the back,” Reyes told him. Reyes was the head of the crime scene investigators.
“Guy in the car; he the perp?” Harris asked.
“When we got here, he was on his knees holding the body,” Officer Rodney said.
“You ID him?” Goodson asked and the uniform officers started looking at one another and smiling.
“Yeah, we ID’ed him,” Officer Zachary said.
“Well, what’s his name?”
“The suspect in custody is Mike Black.”
“What?” Goodson asked.
“What the fuck did you say?” Harris spit out.
“I said the suspect in custody is Mike Black,” officer Persons repeated proudly.
“That was Black in the back of that car?” Goodson wanted to confirm. “And he was on his knees holding the body?”
“Yes, sir,” Officer Rodney smiled.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Harris laughed. “So who the fuck is this?”
“We think it’s his wife,”
“You got a weapon?” Goodson asked eagerly.
“Forty-five caliber automatic,” Reyes told the detective. “It was on the ground by the door.” Reyes stood up and walked to the area where the gun was found. “My guess, he was standing here when he shot her, then he dropped the gun.”
Reyes went back to examining the items on the floor for fingerprints and Goodson turned to Harris and smiled. He knew from past experience with Black that a forty-five automatic was his weapon of choice.
“Where is the weapon?” he asked the young officers, who all seemed excited to be a part of the event.
“Reyes tagged and bagged it,” Officer Zachary said to the detectives.
“He say anything?” Harris asked.
“Not a word,” Officer Persons replied.
“He resist?”
“Just laid her down, closed her eyes and put his hands up,” Officer Rodney said. “I cuffed him and took him out to the car,” he added proudly.
At that point, Goodson had heard enough. He turned and left the kitchen, with Harris and the uniform officers in tow.
Officer Hardaway sat in the front seat of his police car, while keeping a sharp eye on the rear view mirror at his prisoner. He smiled when he saw the detectives rushing out the house after the way they casually walked by on their way in. Hardaway got out the car. “You can slow down, he ain’t going nowhere,” Hardaway laughed.
“Look, guys, it’s your collar, but we gonna get him in the box,” Goodson said.
“You know Kirk is gonna shit bricks when he finds out about this,” Harris stated.
“I’m surprised him, and Richards aren’t here.” Goodson bent down and looked in the car. “Finally got your arrogant ass, huh mutha fucka?”
Black didn’t look in his direction.
“You think he killed her?” Harris asked his partner.
“Husbands kill wives every day. Why can’t this asshole,” Goodson responded. “Book him.”
“Yes sir.”
Officers Hardaway and Persons got in their car and headed toward the precinct. Black sat still and quiet in the backseat with his head hanging low. Along the way, Officer Hardaway, who was the only rookie in the group had questions for his partner. He was attending law school and joined the force so he could learn the law firsthand.
“So what’s the big deal with this guy?”
“This guy’s been doing business in this area for years. Drugs, gambling, prostitution, murder, anything with fast money attached to it, this guy is into it. But he’s smart, never been arrested. So catching his ass at the scene of a crime, some of the guys that have been around a while think it’s a big thing.”
“What about you? You think it’s a big deal?”
“Nope. To me he’s just another asshole killer. After a while they all get caught,” Persons announced.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he did it.”
“Is that what your extensive experience on the job tells you,” Persons laughed.
“No,” Hardaway spit out quickly. “But look at him.”
Persons glanced back at Black and then quickly back to Hardaway. “So what, just another asshole perp to me.”
“You gotta look beyond that shit. Yeah he’s just another asshole perp but look at him. The way he laid her down gently and closed her eyes. He loved that woman, and that shit is eating his ass up,” Hardaway observed.
“Is that what they teach you in law school?”
“Why does it always gotta be about that?” Hardaway asked angrily.
“Calm down, it ain’t all that,” Persons said as they arrived at the precinct.
Mike Black was taken to the interrogation room, but only after he was photographed and fingerprinted. When Detectives Goodson and Harris entered the room, Black was cuffed to the table, but he still had his head hanging low.
“You wanna tell us why you killed her, Black?” Goodson pulled out a chair and sat down at the table next to Black. “What happened—you caught her cheating on you?”
Harris sat down across from Black. “Naa, he caught her stealing,” he threw out.
Black raised his head and looked at the two detectives. “Lawyer.”
For the next thirty minutes, Goodson and Harris laid out several scenarios of how the gruesome crime had been committed and Black’s motive for killing her. Black’s answer was always the same.
“Lawyer.”
Chapter Four
“Wanda.”
“Hi, Mike. It’s about time you called me back. I’ve been calling you….”
“Wanda!”
“What!”
“I’m in jail, Wanda,” Mike said and now he had her undivided attention.
Wanda sat straight up in her bed. “What’d you say?” she asked quickly. “You’re where?”
“I’m in jail.”
“Where are you?”
“Forty-seventh precinct.”
“Okay, Mike, I’m on my way. What are you charged with?” Wanda asked as she rolled out of bed and began grabbing clothes to put on.
“Murder.”
“Oh my God. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do you want me to call Shy?” Wanda asked as she hurried to get dressed.
“That’s who they say I killed,” Mike said and hung up the phone. He knew Wanda would have a million and one questions and that would just keep them on the phone longer. The sooner Wa
nda got there; the sooner he would be out and after the mutha fucka that killed Shy.
Wanda stood holding the phone in total disbelief of what she had just heard. Shy was dead and Mike was being held for her murder. The first person she called was Bobby, but she got his voice mail on both his home and cell phone.
“Bobby, its Wanda. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message. It’s important.”
Wanda grabbed her cell phone and headed out the door. On the way to her car, she called Nick.
“Hello, Wanda. How you doing tonight?” Nick asked, wondering and at the same time excited about her reason for calling so late.
“Not good, Nick. Shy is dead and Mike is being held for her murder,” Wanda said and started up her Lexus.
“Did I hear you right? Shy is dead? And Black’s in jail for murder?”
“That’s what he told me,” Wanda said as she drove.
“Did he do it?”
“I don’t think so. He said that’s who they say he killed, but I don’t know. He hung up before I could ask him any questions. When did y’all get back?”
“We got back tonight. I just dropped him off a couple of hours ago.”
“What time was that?” Wanda asked, a little put out that Nick had been back, and he didn’t call her.
“It was after eleven, I know, but I couldn’t say for sure what time it was. Our plane landed at ten-til ten. I dropped him off at his house and I came to the club.”
“What airline?”
“American.”
“Okay, Nick, I’m at the precinct now, so I’ll call you later,” Wanda said and got out of the car. She opened the trunk and took out her briefcase.
“You want me to meet you down there?”
“For what, Nick?” Wanda asked.
Nick didn’t have an answer that he felt like sharing with Wanda.
“You see if you can find out what happened.”
“I guess that would be a better idea,” Nick admitted.
“You think,” Wanda said and hung up the phone.
Nick got up from his desk and got ready to hit the street. On the way out the door, he called Freeze.
“Yo, what’s up Nick?”
“Black’s in jail.”
“For what?” Freeze asked and sat up in bed.