Laugh Now

by Rahiem Brooks

  Avery, BG’s lieutenant, walked toward Dre’s car, and Dre jumped out before Avery was up on it. Dre thought that he had been out smarted by BG, by him sending a proxy as opposed to him showing his face.

  When Avery and Dre was faced to face, Avery explained, “There’s $98,000 here,” as he handed over a duffle bag. “BG wants four big boys. Keep the change.”

  Dre ignored that. “Why did he send you? I do not do business with his hired help.”

  “Hired help! Didn’t I teach you a lesson last night, faggot?” Avery asked, leaning into Dre to add an intimidating effect with his comment, and pointed a finger into his chest. Dre smiled as he watched Chino creep up behind Avery and used his .44 Bulldog to smack Avery in the head.

  With blood gushing everywhere, Chino had Avery at gunpoint. “Lemme kill this pussy right now, Dre.”

  Dre turned around and walked away. The light wind forced his jacket to flutter. The silence was cut by two shots. Within seconds, Dre heard Chino’s foot steps behind him. Chino threw the duffle bag with Brent’s cash into the back seat of the car and anxiously, asked Dre, “Can we go get that sucka BG, now?”

  ***

  Dre returned to his apartment and told Chino to take $50,000 out the duffle bag, for handling his business. Chino then left after he assured Dre that if he needed anything handled that he should call him to take care of it. Dre sat back, turned on the TV and contemplated his next move. He had to get BG. The Eagles had lost and that was fine. But the breaking news about the young, white male left dead in the mall parking lot was not.

  And Dre whipped into action.

  CHAPTER 32

  Hours later, Dre was knee deep in a porcelain tub full of suds at a hotel in Wilmington, Delaware. He relaxed in the Jacuzzi because he could not sleep. Regret had consumed him, but not enough to march to the police station and accept responsibility for the death of Avery Snobli.

  Out of the tub, he was forced to listen to new casters plead for anyone with information regarding the shooting at the Neshaminy Mall to come forward. The news caster also claimed that the police had a suspect in mind. At that instant, Dre panicked. Could they be on to me? Did BG rat on me? Those things played in Dre’s head. He decided to call the only person with the ability to improve his situation. Surely Kareem would have some advice. Too bad Dre hadn’t listened to Kareem’s earlier advice: Never do a deal in a mall parking lot!

  “Kareem, I am in trouble,” he told his younger brother, urgently. Kareem was the smarter brother and Dre knew that, and was not ashamed to admit it. “I cannot talk to you over the phone, though. Meet me at the Wilmington Amtrak station at eleven a.m. Your train leaves at 8:26, this morning. I already checked.” Dre was very direct with his request and hoped that his brother complied without a fight.

  “Let me book a seat.”

  “Already done. Business class, too, ‘cause you a stuck-up- ass nigga,” he said chuckling.

  ***

  Kareem arrived at the Wilmington train station and could not find his brother. After five minutes of pacing and several glances at his watch, he was approached by a woman completely concealed in Muslin garb. “Kareem, it’s me.”

  Kareem looked down at the ground and shook his head in disbelief. He said, “You make a lovely woman, and I didn’t even see your face.”

  “I do. And I am ready for jihad.”

  When they arrived to the hotel, Dre came out of drag and took Kareem to the scene of the crime. He told him every detail. To which Kareem calmly replied: “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of this mess.”

  “And how the fuck you gonna do that, smart-ass-nigga.” Dre could not believe that his brother was being so nonchalant.

  “Listen, I have some things to do that I can’t tell you. You gotta trust me. Your little brother.”

  ***

  Later that day, the brothers arrived at Jean-Mary’s. Dre hugged Tasha and felt on her booty, he needed that. Everyone was glad that he was fine, but Jean-Mary was concerned with why Kareem was not in New York finishing his exams. He explained that he was finished, and then told Dre to relax.

  “Lemme put my plan into effect,” were his words before he left the house.

  CHAPTER 33

  A task force that consisted of seven full time officers was formed to crack the Avery Snobli murder case. E-mail and private telephone lines allowed hundreds of leads to pour into the Neshaminy police station. None of the calls identified the killer, though.

  The medical examiner’s report stated that there was a two- inch hematoma contusion in Snobli’s temporal lobe, along with one .25 caliber shell casing.

  At the crime scene, investigators found a credit card receipt from a nearby gas station under the body. Video surveillance from the Mobile gas station produced no credible leads. The credit card owner had bought gas. Through an interview, the grandmother whose card it was, was dismissed as a suspect, considering she had been taking her grandchildren to the movies and she had no motive to kill Snobli.

  “McKenzey, there’s a call on line one for you,” yelled a cranky duty officer, whom was tired of taking calls.

  “McKenzey,” he answered in a business like manner. After listening to the caller a few moments, DEA Agent, Lucas McKenzey scrambled to find a pen to write down the informant’s information. After a ten minute probe, he disconnected from the tipster.

  “Andre Bezel commited the murder. Black male, from King of Prussia. According to the source, he is at his grandmother’s hiding in Philadelphia.”

  ***

  About an hour later, Jean-Mary heard an insistent banging on her front door. She scrambled to it, all ready to curse out the inconsiderate jerk that acted like a policeman. She opened the front door and did a double take when she saw a white man in a suit. He was backed up by four uniformed officers with their guns drawn.

  “We need Andre Jamel Bezel at once.”

  Jean-Mary calmly asked, “Sir, do you have a warrant?” She had learned from Dope’s arrest to never allow the cops into her home lacking a warrant.

  “Well, no...”

  McKenzey could not finish his statement because Jean- Mary had begun to close the door in his face. It was a bold move considering the guns. McKenzey countered by pushing open the door, knocking her to the floor, as he and the other officers penetrated the home.

  The cops immediately encountered Tasha, who they commanded to sit on the sofa. Jean-Mary was helped up and ordered to the sofa, as well.

  “Where is he?” McKenzey hissed, ignoring Tasha’s tears.

  Jean-Mary was mad as a mutha-fucka and ready to act the hell up. Dre stopped her, though.

  “Hey! Police I’m coming down. Leave my peoples alone!”

  McKenzey yelled for him to come down the stairs on his knees. Backwards, and crawling like an animal. Dre felt like a two-dollar-hoe, but he did it. At the bottom of the stairs, he was slammed down and frisked for a weapon.

  Jean-Mary blurted out, “That was so damn unnecessary. Assholes!”

  “Ma’am...”

  “Ma’am my ass. You have him now get out of my house.” Dre could not believe that Kareem had turned him in. His

  own flesh and blood. His little brother. He was thrown into the back of a unmarked car while McKenzey gave a press conference on Jean-Mary’s lawn.

  ***

  Kareem looked on from a neighbor’s window at his brother being hauled away. He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

  CHAPTER 34

  The next day, McKenzey privately questioned Cathy, his tipster, for two hours and was certain that she could identify the killer at trial. She claimed to have been at the movie theater on the night in question and that she recognized Andre Bezel from a high school football game. She had been attracted to him sexually and would not forget his face. The night before, Dre had been interrogated fiercely, and was not permitted any sleep. He was handcuffed to a chair, in a room with very bright lights, and forced to drink black coffee.

  At eleven a.m. attorney, Ravo
nne Lemmelle, flanked by Kareem—dressed in a million-dollar suit—entered the police headquarters, prepared for a line-up. Lemmelle, one of Philadelphia’s newest, yet most popular attorney’s was prepared to have his client and cousin released. Kareem was by his side posing as a legal assistant.

  Tension filled the air in the line-up room, a small space outfitted with TV cameras ready to roll, TV/VCR combos, and a two-inch-thick, one-way glass window through which the witnesses identified suspects. Kareem, Lemmelle, Agent McKenzey, Bensalem Township Police Chief Esche, and Assistant United States Attorney Barnswell all took seats. Cathy was then escorted into the room by an officer.

  Under the captain’s command, Dre and four other males entered the room on the other side of the one way glass, and took their places under the numbers one through five painted on the wall.

  AUSA Barnswell had an ugly half-inch scar on his face, rumored to have come from a trial defendant. He was a tall man with a face that remained evil. He had a brown mole between his eyebrows that was equally as scary as the scar. He looked at Cathy in her eyes, and told her, “Take your time. We need you to point out the man responsible for killing Avery Snobli.”

  “Oh, come on, Barnswell! This is being recorded. Can you be any more suggestive? She does not have to pick out someone!” Lemmelle chided. He then shot his eyes at Cathy, and said, “If you’re not sure that any of them did it, say that. Do not feel pressured to send the wrong man to the electric chair.” Lemmelle was the very sardonic son of the Pennsylvania Governor. He also wore his homosexuality very masculine, and that irritated all of his opponents. And some of his clients, but he had a one-hundred-percent acquittal rating, so he was highly sought and respected, regardless.

  Cathy played both suggestions in her head, and then said, “I think he’s number five. I’m not one-hundred-percent sure, but I will go with number five.”

  “Good job, Cathy.” Lemmelle interjected before closing his briefcase and turning to Barnswell. “Should we still be here? She’s unsure of the perp, and we both know—well, we should —that she would not make a credible eye witness.”

  “Wait! I’m really leaning on number five.”

  McKenzey wanted to rip her face off and put in under number one in the suspect room, right beside Dre, who was number two.

  “Take your time, Cathy. Just pick out the man who resembles that murderer,” McKenzey said.

  “Sounds like coercion. Are we done?” Lemmelle asked. He did not play with the Government at trial, nor during tax season.

  Cathy stated that she could not be sure, and McKenzey’s top blew off. He placed his hands behind his head to prevent himself from reaching out to Cathy and strangling her. He asked everyone to leave the room. Everyone looked confused, because McKenzey never gave up so easily. But they all stood to leave and McKenzey said, “Mr. Bezel stay a while. Let’s see what you’re learning up at Columbia, my boy.”

  “Not your boy! More like your nightmare.” Kareem shot back.

  Lemmelle intervened. “Are you insane? I am not leaving him here. That is egregiously irresponsible and I won’t allow.”

  “No, its okay,” Kareem responded. “I’ll talk to the Drug Enforcement Agent.”

  “Calm down, Lemmelle,” McKenzey snapped. “I only wanted to ask him a few questions and he is not the accused, so you’re not needed. So, you may be excused.”

  Hearing all of that the government looked around and decided to leave to allow the agent to work. They wanted a conviction. But Lemmelle intervened again.

  “Maybe somewhere while you were building your bogus case against his brother, you misplaced the rules regarding the right to an attorney from Miranda v. Arizona, and the Sixth Amendment.”

  Kareem loved the sarcasm of his cousin, but he told Lemmelle, “I’ll be just fine with the agent. I’d love to chat it up with him.”

  “You sound over confident. You wanna chat. Let’s chat!” McKenzey then told Lemmelle, “He sounds like a big boy. Let me speak to him totally off the cuff.”

  “It’s definitely off the record, all right. He signs no Miranda warning and you have ten minutes.”

  “Don’t worry. I am sure he’ll want me out of here in five.”

  “Or maybe you will,” Lemmelle said. “I know that he can be quite ferocious.”

  Kareem was in the interview room alone with the agent, and watched him turn off all recording devices. He then sat across from Kareem.

  “Here’s the deal. I know that she can identify your brother. I’ll make her. He’ll get the death penalty, or worse LIFE. Care to have him confess for leniency.”

  “No! D-E-A Agent McKenzey, is that a promise?” Kareem asked, tenting his hands and staring icily at McKenzey.

  McKenzey leaned across the table, inches away from Kareem’s face. Kareem didn’t flinch.

  “Listen nigger. It’s is fucking promise alright.”

  Kareem slid back from the wrath of the agent, whose breath reeked of coffee over shit. Kareem chuckled mockingly as he rotated the numbers on his briefcase, and unlocked it. He said to the agent, “Where’d you learn that ethical approach to interrogation, the Academy for Dummies?” He was sharp, and then slid a manila folder over to McKenzey.

  Kareem then stood and paced to the one way mirror, staring at the number two where his accused brother once stood. He gave his back to the pompous agent. Without turning around, and his voice piercing the room like a bullet, he said, “I’ve been on to your clever trickery for some time now,” the kid said. “I mean, I must admit your scheme is quite interesting.” Kareem turned to face his audience, after what seemed like an eon to McKenzey.

  “Where’d you get these?”

  “You’re the agent.” Kareem sneered. “I especially like the one with the cat.” He had taunted the agent with photograph’s that chronicled the agent’s dealings with BG. “An animal cruelty charge on top of a conspiracy to distribute kilos of cocaine will look marvelous before a grand jury sitting in the Eastern District, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Kareem walked back over to his briefcase and retrieved a video tape. “Do you know what this tape consists of, D-E-A Agent Lucas McKenzey? Do you? It’s rather intriguing, Agent McKenzey. Shall we sneak a peak? Of course, that’s why I brought them along to this little tête-à-tête.”

  “You want to tango? Let’s tango!” McKenzey said.

  “Oh, I am dancing. Just all over you.” Kareem shot back. Agent McKenzey’s face brimmed with anger. He could not

  believe his eyes. Even the most pretentious McKenzey could not deny the contents of the tape. Had the spinning room been full of the others, they would have applauded McKenzey’s stupidity, and then shamelessly stripped his credentials from his waist.

  Kareem peered into McKenzey’s cold eyes. Kareem was hot, though. “You’re no longer laughing, Agent McKenzey.” Kareem quipped. The victory consumed him, but McKenzey could not tell. The teen sat there as stiff as concrete.

  McKenzey’s face, displayed disgrace, but he looked at Kareem respectfully. Kareem stopped the tape, and said, “There’s a scene coming up that I’d rather not see again.”

  “What could that be?”

  “Let’s see. You have a pistol to BG’s head, and he’s on his knees with your dick in his mouth, faggot!” Kareem hissed violently. He calmed and sardonically joked, “By the way, I loved the pink panties. I am an avid fashion guru and did not know that you could afford LaPerla on your salary. Let’s make this simple. I want my brother out of here now.”

  “I must admit, you have a lot here, but that’s not my call.”

  “It was when you got him here. But here’s my fucking call, bastard. You tell them simpletons that you convinced me to wear a wire to get a confession out of my brother.” He said exactly what Lemmelle had prepared him to say. “You’re going to release my brother so that I can be fitted with a wire. You will do that because, later on this tape you’ll see yourself tampering with Avery’s dead body. I doubt that you want Barnswell to find that out.
Can you say conspiracy to commit murder? Or maybe you even forced my brother to do your dirty work. He walks and you’re off to Big Sandy. Try Lemmelle if you wanna. He’s my cousin. No one in my family wins arguments with him. You don’t want it, buddy ol’ pal.”

  McKenzey sat silent, and brood how Lemmelle would fry him, Matlock style. McKenzey would never give him the satisfaction. He disgustedly agreed.

  Kareem stood to leave, but stopped at the door. “We have one other piece of business. You must go on television and clear my brother’s name as you accused him on our grandmother’s lawn.”

  “Hey, I didn’t alert the media.”

  “I did, silly. Just as I called them for you to announce your complete redaction of the allegations and your deepest apology. That? Or they could air your filthy laundry. And I sent Cathy, by the way.”

  ***

  The private jet left the Northeast, Wings Field Airport, and Dre finally asked, “Where are we going?” He had followed Kareem’s lead until that point, but he was very curious as to what had gotten him off death row.

  “Los Angeles,” Kareem responded flatly.

  “One more question. What happened back there?”

  Kareem smiled and sipped his Cola. “Remember when my

  car was broken into?” Dre nodded and he went on. “On the mall’s security tapes, I saw an older white man give money to BG to give to you. At first, the man was irrelevant, until that man showed up at your apartment. I had already stole the video and lied telling you that some bitch told me all about what you were doing I called Ray-Ray and he assigned one of his PIs to keep an eye on you. He found out that McKenzey was crooked, so I exposed him.”

  “You had me followed?” “Naw, protected.”

  “So, when I called you...” “I already knew.”

  “What do you have over McKenzey?”

  “He’s crooked and a freak.”

  “Huh?”