The Mike Black Saga Volume 3

by Roy Glenn

  “I don’t know what he said about her, but she is a nice package,” I said and got out of the car.

  Bobby and I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. When his maid answered, Bobby pushed his way past her.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Marshall, Sweetie,” he said.

  “Wait just a minute! You can’t just walk in here like you own the place!” the maid screamed at us.

  “But that is what we’re doing,” Bobby said, and I followed behind him.

  I had been there a few times for parties and tried to remember where his office was. When Martin came out to see what all the noise was about, we walked quickly toward him. When he saw us coming, Martin went back in his office and Bobby and I both took out our guns.

  “Oh shit!” the maid yelled and ran behind us.

  When the three of us got to Martin’s office, we found him standing in front of his bar. “Remy; isn’t it, Black?” he asked and calmly poured Remy Martin VSOP into three shot glasses.

  “Should I get the police, Mr. Marshall?” the maid asked.

  “That won’t be necessary, Helena. Mr. Black and I are old friends,” Martin said and handed me a glass. “Right, Black?”

  “That depends on you, Martin,” I said and took my drink.

  The maid looked at Martin and then at me and Bobby.

  “Okay, if you say so. Call if you need anything.” She backed out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

  “Have a seat, gentlemen,” Martin said and handed a drink to Bobby. “There’s no need for guns. I’m sure if you planned on killing me, I’d be dead already.”

  “The day isn’t over yet,” Bobby said. “Say or do the wrong fuckin’ thing and Helena will have a mess to clean up.”

  Bobby and I sat down, and Martin went and sat behind his desk, but neither of us put away our guns.

  “Who killed my wife, Martin?” I asked.

  I started to point my gun at him when I asked, but I figured just him knowing I would kill him was threat enough. Bobby thought otherwise. He pointed his gun at Martin.

  “First off, I want to say that I was sorry to hear about her death, Black. I mean that from the heart.”

  “Thank you. Now, who killed my wife?”

  “I don’t know for sure, Black; I swear it.”

  “What do you know?”

  “You ever hear of a DEA agent,” Martin paused. “Well Ex-DEA agent now. Fellow named Kenneth DeFrancisco?”

  “No.”

  “I was in business with him and Diego Estabon.”

  “I knew about you and Diego. What was the set up?”

  “Same old same. Diego brings it in, DeFrancisco was responsible for security, and I provided whatever political cover they needed.”

  “What does this have to do with my wife, Martin?”

  “Diego got careless; let some DEA operative compile some major document on his operation. It was only by chance that DeFrancisco got wind of an ongoing South American operation and mentioned the details that he’d heard, that Diego knew he had a snitch.”

  “Interesting story, Martin, but the man asked you about his wife,” Bobby said.

  “That’s what I’m doing,” Martin said nervously as he looked at Bobby’s gun. “That’s why Diego tried to set up you and his father.”

  “I know all this, Martin. Tell me about my wife.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. When it all fell apart, DeFrancisco went to jail. He’s doing time at the federal pen in Atlanta. Since he’s been there, he’s been reaching out to me to use my influence to get him moved to a minimum-security facility, but I can’t help him. Too much bad will out there for him. He stepped on a lot of people.”

  “I’m getting bored, Martin,” Bobby advised him. “And when that happens my finger might slip,” he warned, and I wanted to laugh at how corny that was, but I kept my game face on.

  “Okay, okay. Last week his lap dog Vinnelli comes to see me,” Martin continued.

  “Who’s he?” I asked.

  “DEA. He tells me that DeFrancisco wants to talk to me and if I don’t, DeFrancisco will start remembering things. So I called him.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Same thing. Get him transferred to a minimum-security facility. Said if I didn’t get it done soon, the same thing that happened to your wife would happen to mine.”

  “You think he really meant he had her killed, or was he just trying to scare you?” Bobby asked, and I started thinking about how I was gonna kill that mutha fucka.

  “I asked him if he was responsible for that and he didn’t answer.” Martin looked at me. “You gonna kill me, Black?”

  “Not yet,” I told him. “There’s something that I want you to do for me first.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kirk and Richards returned to Cash Money’s murder scene to have a second look, as they usually did, especially when they didn’t have much to go on. Revisiting the scene gave Kirk a fresh opportunity to think through the murder and see what they might have missed the first time. “There’s always something,” Kirk was famous for saying at these occasions. This time was no different.

  Since they had come to the conclusion that the murder of Cash Money and K Murder were related, Kirk and Richards had been to the Police impound and looked over K Murder’s Escalade, as well as the spot where the shooting took place. Finding no new inspiration, the detectives found themselves at Cash Money’s apartment. The results seemed to be the same.

  “What now?” Richards asked as they left the apartment.

  “I was thinking about grabbing some lunch and then I thought we’d take another run at this Stark character,” Kirk answered.

  He had confirmed from his sources that Cash Money, Blake, K Murder Murdock, Billy BB Banner and Bruce Stark, all four of Birdie’s lieutenants, were members of The Commission. However, his sources told him that the sole purpose of the group was to protect themselves against Mike Black. The ability to buy at a cheaper price was nothing more than a byproduct.

  Even with that information, Kirk was still reluctant to believe that Black was involved with these murders.

  When the detectives stopped at a diner for lunch, Richards asked the question he’d been wanting to ask all day. “Why haven’t you even suggested, with everything people have been telling us about this Commission, why haven’t you even suggested we talk to Black, Freeze or any of his people?” he asked as the waitress placed their meals in front of them.

  “Can you bring me another cup of coffee, honey?” Kirk said to the waitress.

  “Sure,” she replied.

  “We can ride out to the country and talk to Black if you want. That’s not a problem. But you asked me why I hadn’t suggested it, right?”

  “Okay, why?”

  “Because of what all the people we’ve talked to haven’t told us.”

  “I’m not following you,” Richards said as the waitress returned to refresh Kirk’s coffee.

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked.

  “We’re fine, thank you,” Richards told her, and she disappeared.

  “What have they been telling us?”

  “That after Black had Birdie and Albert killed, these four assholes were so afraid he’d come after them next, that they formed this commission to protect themselves against him.”

  “How’s that going so far?” Kirk asked as he ate.

  “Not good. Two of them are dead and the other two are keeping a very low profile.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s pretty much been the story.”

  “They found Birdie’s body near Atlantic City, right? New Jersey State Police making any headway with that case?”

  “Not that I know of,” Richards said.

  “But it’s assumed that Black killed him and since nobody’s seen his partner, Albert Web, that he’s dead too and that Black killed him, right?”

  “Right.”


  “Okay, let’s say that Black killed Birdie and Albert. Can you tell me why?”

  “Because Black first thought that they killed his wife.”

  “And you’re sure about that? Not sure enough to make an arrest, but sure that’s why Black killed or had them killed?”

  “I’ll go along with that. Yeah, I’m sure about that,” Richards answered confidently.

  “How come?”

  “Because that’s what the talk was at the time and why these assholes got together in the first place.”

  “My point is; what we’re not hearing is a reason why Black would be out to kill these guys. And don’t give me that crap about him hating all drug dealers. Him and Chilly coexisted for years before Nick killed him. But that wasn’t business; Simmons was fuckin’ Chilly’s wife. No, Pat, I’m not buying it. But like I said, Black is staying out in Rockland County with Bobby Ray and his wife. We can take a ride out there and on the way you can tell me what his motive is, because that’s the first thing Black is gonna ask you.” Kirk picked up his fork and shoved food in his mouth. “Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and Wanda will be there, and you can explain your motive to her.”

  “You’re the one with the thing for her,” Richards said. “But I ain’t mad at you about it.”

  “From what everybody tells us, Freeze has been running things quietly and that Black hasn’t been seen or heard from much since his wife was murdered. You know as well as I do that he’s obsessed with finding her killer. Unless something happened to change that, these four punks wouldn’t even be on his radar. And if there was something going on, we’d have heard about it by now.”

  “What else we got?”

  “Nothing,” Kirk said. “We have everything to gain and nothing to lose by talking to him.”

  “Then it’s settled. We talk to Stark and then we ride out to see Black,” Richards said, and Kirk agreed.

  As Richards turned onto Stark’s street, Kirk glanced in his side-view mirror and noticed that the young lady standing on the corner talking on her cell phone, was now using that cell to take a picture of their car. “Slow down, Pat. I wanna see how they're set up here,” Kirk instructed.

  “You got it. Slow and steady,” Richards said and allowed the car to coast down the street.

  “Go around again then park.”

  “Yes, sir,” Richards said and complied with his partner’s request. He drove around the block, came down the street again, and parked the car down the street from Stark’s building. The stunt had the desired effect, as four of Stark’s men approached the car.

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say he’s home this time,” Richards said and started to get out of the car.

  “Wait,” Kirk said quickly and grabbed his arm. “Wait for them to get here.”

  Just before they got to the car, Kirk and Richards got out with their badges visible. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Richards asked and the men stopped.

  “No problem, officer,” one said, and the others scattered.

  “Not so fast,” Richards said and walked up on the closest one to him. “Why don’t you take us to your scout master?”

  “I don’t know what you talking about.”

  “Whatever,” Richards said and shoved him toward the building. “Go on.”

  Kirk and Richards were escorted into Stark’s apartment, and after waiting five minutes with four of his men, Stark came into the living room and sat down.

  “I’m detective Richards and this is detective Kirkland.”

  “If you gentlemen don’t mind, can I see your credentials, please?” Stark asked and the detectives complied. “Can’t be too careful, you know what I mean. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “We wanted to ask you some questions about a couple of murders,” Richards began.

  “You gonna have to be more specific than that,” Stark said and smiled. “People get killed around here all the time.”

  “Look, this can go any way you want it to,” the young detective started, but Kirk held up one hand.

  “Steven Blake and Kevin Murdock. Anything you can tell me about that?” Kirk asked.

  “Can’t help you with that, sorry.”

  “Really?” Kirk said and scratched his head. “Seems to me that help is exactly what you need.”

  “What you talking about?” Stark asked.

  “Let’s cut the shit, shall we?” Kirk said.

  “Let’s,” Stark said.

  “Cash Money and K Murder were members of The Commission, which by the way, you’re chairman of. The two of them were murdered, and from what I can see, you have the appearance of a man who’s trying to avoid the same fate,” Kirk said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Well, let’s see; first there’s the girl taking pictures of every car that comes down the street and the two on the far corner. Then there’s the four goon welcoming committee outside the building. There are two men in the lobby and another four in the hallway. Two at the elevator and one at each of the stairwells.” Kirk looked over at Richards. “Did I miss anybody?”

  Richards glanced around the room. “Other than these four assholes, no, I think you got them all.”

  “Understand now?”

  Stark didn’t answer.

  “Now, like I was saying, Cash Money and K Murder were murdered and seems to me that you’re expecting somebody to come after you. So, who’d you guys piss off?”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Cash and K, I really am. But I can’t help you. Maybe they got into something that flipped on them and that’s why they’re dead, but it ain’t got shit to do with me,” Stark said.

  “You ever hear of a guy named Mike Black?” Richards asked.

  “Sure. What about him?”

  “Ever met him?”

  “Not personally, but I’ve seen him around.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “Got nothing but respect for the man. It’s dangerous not to respect Mike Black.”

  “The way I hear it, you commissioners got together because you were afraid of Black.”

  “I don’t know who you're talking about, but I ain’t scared of no man,” Stark boasted.

  Richards looked around the room again. “Yeah, I see why.”

  Kirk took out a business card and stood up. “If you think of anything that might be helpful, whatever that might be, give me a call,” the detective said and left Stark’s apartment.

  Once they were in the car, Richards turned to Kirk. “What do you think?”

  “Even if I don’t believe that Black is involved, Stark does, and he doesn’t plan on being next. So let’s go talk to Black; see what he’s got to say.”

  “It will definitely be more entertaining than this guy,” Richards commented and drove off.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mike Black

  I miss you, Cassandra.

  I miss her so much sometimes I can hardly breathe.

  I miss everything about her.

  I waited my whole life to feel for somebody the way I felt for Cassandra, and now she’s dead.

  I miss her smile and the way her eyes would dance when she would see me. I miss long conversations about nothing in particular; I just miss talking to her.

  I long to feel her head against my chest, and to feel the warmth of her body next to mine. I wanna share a meal with her and wonder why it always takes her so long to order. Maybe because she was too busy talking instead of looking at the menu. But I love her anyway.

  Some days it feels like I’m just walking through life, one day to the next. I have nothing to look forward to now. I know she’s not going to be there when I get home. I can’t call her just to hear that sexy voice of hers. Some days, I’m like, what's the point?

  Michelle helps a lot with that, because when I look at her, I know I have a purpose. I’m her father. No disrespect to M, but when you get right down to it, I’m all she has in this world. And I won’t let her down.

  But, the only tim
e I really feel alive are times like this. When there’s even the slightest possibility that I might find out why my baby had to die. She was the only thing that ever really mattered to me; other than money, I mean. But Cassandra meant more to me than money, because I would gladly give up all the money I have, or ever will have, if there was a chance that I could see her again.

  Why somebody had to take that from me, something that good from me, something I’ve waited all my life for, I don’t know. But now I know who, and he will tell me why, right before I cut his fuckin’ throat.

  When Bobby turned the car off and asked, “You getting out or you gonna keep on sitting there looking stupid?” That’s when I realized that we were at his house. By the time I got out of the car, Bobby had already taken my bags out of the trunk.

  “I know you got a lot on your mind right now. You're thinking about why this DeFrank whatever mutha fucka had Shy killed. I know you thinking about how you gonna kill these mutha fuckas, but take a breath,” Bobby said and opened the front door.

  I followed him inside and downstairs to the basement, which Bobby had claimed as his own personal space. Once he made himself comfortable, he continued.

  “You thinking about killin’ two DEA agents?”

  “One.”

  “One what?”

  “One DEA. The other one’s in jail.”

  “That presents another set of problems,” Bobby said.

  “Why, because he’s in jail? Being in jail don’t stop shit. You know that. He can still get got.” And Martin Marshall was gonna help me with that. “Being in jail didn’t stop him from putting a contract on me and Cassandra. No, Bobby, I’m sorry, that mutha fucka is gonna die for this.”

  “And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t kill them. It ain’t like I could stop you anyway.”

  He had that right.

  “All I’m saying is to take a breath and think for a minute.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. I didn’t walk out of Marshall’s house and wanna go shoot up DEA headquarters, did I?”

  “No, that would be stupid.”