by Roy Glenn
“He was just arraigned this morning. We haven’t gotten to the discovery phase yet. At this point, all I can tell you is that the murder weapon is registered to him, and naturally his prints are all over it,” Wanda said as she pulled up in front of her office.
“I know it shouldn’t matter to a good defense attorney, but did he do it?”
“He couldn’t have.”
“Okay, Wanda, I’ll take the case. But you’ll have to do a lot of the preliminary work, and I’ll come to New York for a day or two to work with you on preparing for the trial.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I owe you one,” Wanda said and sat down at her desk.
“No, Wanda, this makes us even. Remember you’re the one who got me through Constitutional Law.”
“You mean I let you copy all my papers, ’cause you were too busy with what’s her name to be bothered with something as trivial as that.”
“I’ll have you know that I re-wrote them before I turned them in,” Marcus laughed.
“Anyway, thanks. We’ll talk soon, Marcus,” Wanda said and hung up the phone.
It wasn’t too long after Wanda got off the phone with Marcus that Nick and Freeze walked through the door. Wanda told them what happened with Black, both the night before with the police and that morning in court.
“What did Black say happened?” Freeze asked.
“He said when he got home, he found her dead in the kitchen.” Wanda sat back in her chair. “I had to identify her body,” she said and made a face that showed her repulsion. “Whoever killed her, beat her in her face. I’ve never seen rage like that.” Wanda noticed the way Nick and Freeze were looking at each other. “What?”
“I think Birdie might be involved in this,” Freeze said.
“What makes you say that?”
“The other night Birdie and Shy got into it at Cuisine,” Freeze told her.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know what started it, but I heard her say something like she don’t know how he gets woman, since he’s such an ugly mutha fucka.”
Wanda wanted to laugh, but she held it in. “That sounds like Shy.”
“Anyway, Birdie was about to back hand her, but he changed his mind when I put my gun to his head. When Birdie left, he told Shy that she would see him again and she wouldn’t like it.”
“And you think that he killed her for that?” Wanda asked skeptically. “’Cause it doesn’t sound like all that to me.”
“She dissed him in front of his crew,” Freeze explained to Wanda. “He was with Albert, a couple of females and two of his boys. They was all falling out laughing.”
Wanda put her elbows on her desk and massaged her temples. “You look tired,” Nick said to her.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was at the precinct late last night and in court early this morning.”
“You up for this?” Nick asked.
“No,” Wanda said to two shocked faces. “That's why I hired an experienced trial lawyer.”
“Who?” Freeze demanded to know.
“His name is Marcus Douglas. We when to law school together,” Wanda said and glanced at Nick to gage his reaction.
“He any good?” Nick inquired to Wanda’s disappointment.
“I think so.”
“Can we trust him?” Freeze asked. “I mean we gonna be letting an outsider into our world.”
“I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think I could trust him. I’m going to do most if not all of the pre-trial work, I’ll prep him, but he’ll actually try the case.”
“But you’ll be there with Black, right?” Freeze asked.
“I’ll be sitting right next to him. It’s called second chair,” Wanda said.
“So, were you guys pretty close in law school?” Nick asked with just enough attitude to make Freeze look at him like he was crazy.
Wanda on the other hand, smiled at his delayed reaction to her announcement that she’d be working closely with a potential old boyfriend. “Yeah, we spent a lot of time together,” Wanda said. “Studying,” she added.
Freeze’s cell phone rang, and he answered it. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Freeze. This is Tamia.”
“What’s the word, Sergeant Adams? I know you got something for me.”
“Yeah, baby, I got a whole lot for you, but we’ll talk about that later. I got something that I need to tell you about, but not over the phone. You still coming by here?”
“I’ll be there in about an hour,” Freeze told her.
“I’ll have it wet for you,” Sergeant Adams said and ended the call.
When Freeze hung up the phone, he turned to Nick and Wanda. “That was my contact at the precinct. She says she got something for me.”
“So, what are we going to do about Birdie?” Wanda asked.
“Me and Nick went looking for him last night. He definitely knows that we looking for him by now.” Freeze got up. “Nick, I’ll get with you after I take care of this. See if we can’t find this nigga.”
“Call me,” Nick said without taking his eyes off Wanda.
“Whatever.” Freeze left Wanda’s office.
Nick stood up. “I’m gonna get outta here too. Get something to eat.”
“I haven’t eaten yet. Mind if I join you?” Wanda asked.
“Sure.”
At Wanda’s suggestion, they went to lunch at Chez Napoléon, a French bistro in located the Theatre District on 50th Street between 8th and 9th avenues. As Wanda looked over her menu, Nick merely glanced at his menu. He was looking at Wanda until she looked up. “What?” she asked.
“What’re you gonna have?” Nick asked.
Wanda looked at the menu again. “I was thinking about the Coquille St. Jacques.”
“I didn’t see that.” Probably cause I was looking at you, Nick thought. “What’s that?” he asked, this time actually looking at the menu.
“Its sea scallops in a cream sauce and melted cheese. What about you, what are you gonna have?”
“I was thinking about the Escargots de Bourgogne.”
Wanda looked at her menu. “Snails? Yuck. You actually eat those things?”
“Sure, they’re good. You should try them sometime. Take a break from calamari once and a while.”
“I’m not having calamari today,” Wanda said quickly.
“That’s only because it’s not on the menu.” Nick smiled at Wanda and she stared into his eyes. Finally, Nick looked at his menu. “Snails are good, but I gotta be in the mood to eat them.”
“Chicken. You don’t eat those disgusting things,” Wanda said playfully.
“Whatever. I’m gonna have the baked Clams Josephine. And I’ll have the Napoléon Complex Martini.”
Wanda flipped to the Martini menu. “Napoléon mandarin, vodka, orange wedge. That sounds good. I’ll have one too.”
Once their meals arrived, Nick and Wanda ate and sipped their Martini’s in relative silence. The thing that was upper most on her mind was Black, naturally. As for Nick, he too was thinking about Black and what he could do to get him out of jail. C-4 and a helicopter should do it, Nick thought. But his mind and his eyes were on Wanda.
“So, you and this lawyer, what’s his name?”
“Marcus,” Wanda said while she ate. “Marcus Douglas.”
“You and this Marcus guy, what’s up with that?” Nick asked.
“What about him?”
“You two do anything else other than study together?”
Wanda looked up at Nick. “If you’re asking if anything is going on between us, the answer is no. Marcus is one of the best trial lawyers in the country. I think hiring him was the best move. I’ve never tried a murder case before, and this is too important to mess up.” Wanda gently placed her fork on her plate. “Why do you ask?” she smiled and asked playfully.
“I just wanted to know what type of guy he is. Freeze is right, we’ll be letting an outsider into our world.”
“That’s all? I me
an is there anything else?”
“Should there be more?”
Wanda laughed a little. It wasn’t like Nick was about to stand up, beat his chest and say that she belonged to him and he didn’t want Marcus anywhere near her, but she would take what she got.
“Like I said, Nick, I wouldn’t have hired Marcus if I didn’t know I could trust him. I’ll keep him away from anything he doesn’t need to be involved in, so don’t worry, I got this,” Wanda said but Nick wasn’t listening. He was looking at her face, watching her lips move, but he couldn’t hear her.
If he wanted to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was in love with her, in love with everything about her. The sound of her voice, the way she wore her hair, the clothes she wore, and her smile. She didn’t smile often, but when she did it lit up the room, at least in his eyes.
And that body, my god! But we’re friends, Nick thought.
One day he would find the courage to tell her how he felt. In the meantime, he would keep his feeling to himself and simply enjoy being with her.
Chapter Twelve
After leaving JFK airport, where he verified the first part of Black’s story, Kirk drove back to the Bronx. His next stop was the medical examiner.
“Fact,” he said into his recorder as he drove. “Mike Black left the city on Tuesday morning as a ticketed passenger to Miami, returning on American airlines at ten fifty. Black Cadillac registered to Nick Simmons, exited long-term parking at ten minutes after ten. There were no major reported delays on the Van Wyck, give them a few ticks to get out of the airport, so they would put them back uptown, like he said, around eleven.”
The next thing Kirk would need to know was the time of death. He stopped at a store near the precinct and got a couple of cups of coffee. Kirk was going to see Dr. David Frazier, the ME assigned to the case. “Afternoon, Dave,” Kirk said as he came through the door.
“How’s it going with you, Kirk?” Dr. Frazier said to him, barely looking up from the cadaver that he was working on.
“I brought you some fresh coffee.”
Frazier looked up from his work. “You know I was just thinking about brewing a fresh pot, but I know I’m only gonna drink a cup, maybe two at most,” Frazier said and peeled off his gloves. “And if that’s the case, why bother making a fresh pot; you know what I’m saying.”
“Why don’t you just make enough for one or two cups?”
“I never can get it right, either it’s too weak or too strong. There hasn’t been a decent pot of coffee made in here since Sondra quit.”
“They tell me that some women, not all, but some women take the whole sexual harassment thing very seriously, Dave.”
Frazier took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kirk. One minute I’m watching her bending over a body, you know with that big juicy, soul sister ass, next thing you know, I got a hand full of it.”
“Looks like the cut under your eye healed nicely,” Kirk said and smiled.
“That’s what I get for playing grab ass with a woman with a scalpel in her hand.”
Both Frazier and Kirk laughed.
“What you got there, Dave?” Kirk asked.
“Nothing exotic, Kirk, just a simple hepatic failure. Cryptogenic cirrhosis.”
“What does that mean, Dave?”
“Cryptogenic cirrhosis means that a cause of death was not actually found on examination. However, the cirrhosis, which is essentially replacement of normal liver tissue with nodules of tissue, separated by bands of fibrous tissue—destroys the normal function of the liver, and this in turn leads to hypoalbuminaemia due to poor protein synthesis by the liver. Acute hepatic failure often develops on top of the cirrhosis, and it is this that actually killed the patient; the liver just stopped working,” Frazier said.
“That is way more information than I really need, Dave, but thanks.”
“You did ask,” Frazier said and took a sip of his coffee. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Cassandra Black.”
Frazier looked curiously at Kirk. “Oh yeah, but that’s Goodson and Harris case. What are you doin’ here?” Frazier said slowly as he shuffled through the paper on his desk until he found the one he wanted.
“Consider me an interested party.”
“Well at least somebody’s interested.”
“What do you mean, Dave?”
“I mean I haven’t heard from Goodson or Harris since they had me rush them the results of the ballistics on the weapon they recovered at the scene.”
“And?”
“No doubt about it, that was the murder weapon, but I told Goodson that I hadn’t autopsied the body yet, so I’d definitely have some more information when I got finished.”
“They never checked back with you?”
“I left messages for both of them, but so far, no call.”
Kirk laughed a little. “Well tell me what you found Dave, and I’ll pass the info along.”
“Bullshit, Kirk. This is Mike Black’s wife, right?”
“Right.”
“Everybody knows you’ve had a hard-on for this guy for years.”
“What you got, Dave?”
Kirk followed the ME until the got to the unit that contained Shy’s body. Dr. Frazier opened the unit, pulled back the cover and Kirk looked at her face.
“Damn!” Kirk said and shook his head. “You couldn’t tell it now, but that was one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen.”
“Yeah, well, you’re right, I can’t tell it now,” Frazier said in as deadpan a manner as he could. “Anyway, Kirk, cause of death,” Frazier paused for a quick review of his notes. “Victim was shot four times in the back. One bullet entered just below her left shoulder blade. It went through the superior vena cava. The second entered another a little below the other, that one went through her heart. And the other two entered through her back, one passed through without hitting any vital organs and the other pierced her right lung. If I had to make a guess about the order, judging by the angle of trajectory, the first was the kill shot, to the heart. The other rounds entered on an angle at varying degrees, which indicates that she was going down when the perp shot her. I’d say death occurred sometime between ten thirty and eleven thirty.”
“If he got home around eleven, then he’d still have time to do it,” Kirk thought out loud.
“Don’t think so.”
“What makes you say that, Dave?”
“Three things, four really. First off,” Frazier said and pulled the cover back a little further. “I would’ve thought with a beating like that there would be some defensive wounds and there would definitely be some skin under her nails, but there aren’t any. That’s when I noticed those cuts and bruises around her wrists.”
“What would cause that?” Kirk asked the ME.
“My guess … handcuffs.”
“Hmm.”
“That got the old juices flowing and I began to look a little further. I took a closer look at her face. Have you noticed that it is for the most part the wounds are limited to the left side of her face?”
“Killer was right-handed.”
“Yes, nothing extraordinary there, however if you look closely at the right side of her face, you’ll notice that there are small cuts on the corner of her mouth that are consistent with her being gagged.”
“What’s the forth?” Kirk asked and continued to make notes of everything the ME said.
“I didn’t find any evidence of drugs in her system, but I found traces of N2O in her system.”
“English translation, please?”
“Nitrous Oxide.”
“Again, in English, please, what the fuck is that?”
“A colorless gas with pleasant, sweetish odor and taste, which when inhaled produces insensitivity to pain.” Frazier paused and looked at Kirk. “Laughing gas.”
“You’re shittin’ me?”
“If you asked me, and I notice that you haven’t,” Frazier smiled. “T
he killer took his time with this one. The killer cuffed her, gave her the N2O, gagged her and then he beat her. Then he shot her.”
Kirk left the ME’s office with more questions than he had when he went in. The most pressing question was, why the laughing gas? If the killer wanted to beat her and beat her as badly as she was beaten, then why did he give her something that would decrease her sensitivity to pain?
Kirk got out his cell and called Lieutenant Reyes, the head of the crime scene investigation team, to see if he could get some answers. “Reyes,” the lieutenant answered.
“This is Kirk.”
“What’s going on, Kirk?”
“You worked the Mike Black crime scene, right?”
“I shoulda known that’s what you wanted. Yeah, I worked it, why?”
“I just left the ME and I got some questions I need to ask you about the crime scene.”
“Ain’t that Goodson and Harris’s case?”
“Yeah, it’s their case,” Kirk spit out.
“I’m kinda busy right now. Why don’t we get together tomorrow? You can buy me breakfast.”
“What time?”
“Seven. Meet me at the precinct.”
“Be on time, Reyes,” Kirk warned. “Or you're buying.”
Chapter Thirteen
Freeze parked his truck in front of Sergeant Adams apartment building. He was anxious to hear what she had for him, and more importantly, whatever it was, that it would be something that could help Black. “It better not be just about her wanting some dick.”
He was about to go inside when his cell phone rang. “What up?”
“What’s up, Freeze? This is Mylo.”
“Yo, what’s up?”
“Where you at?”
“About to take care of some business.”
“I was just calling to let you know that some of Birdie’s people been rollin around the way asking a lot of questions.”
“I’m looking for Birdie. You seen him?”
“Nah, I ain’t seen him. What’s up?”
“You ain’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Somebody killed Shy last night,” Freeze said coldly.
“You think Birdie had something to do with it?”
“Maybe.”