by Kim Hamilton
I decided our first date was not the time to inquire about his past relationships and picked up the menu. “The pulled pork looks good.”
We both ordered pulled pork sandwiches, two more Rain Delay IPAs, and shared a basket of crab fries. The food was terrific, the conversation warm and comfortable. Melanie had the good sense not to return to our table. A few minutes before game time, we worked our way up the maze of escalators to our seats, which were about twenty-five rows up on the first base side. Great seats, but they were in foul ball territory.
“I expect you to protect me if a ball comes this way,” I said.
Mark’s eyes brightened. “Or we could let it hit you and then sue them.”
“Very funny.”
We watched the game and cheered along with the crowd. The Orioles lost, but the evening was a winner. Mark took my hand as we walked to the parking lot. The summer air was tempered by a cool, northern breeze. The bluish glow of the city’s artificial lights guided us. As we neared his car, we slowed our pace. He opened the passenger door with his free hand, then pulled me close. I felt the warmth of his chest on mine and breathed in the scent of sandalwood cologne. I smiled up at him and he kissed me. His lips parted mine and sent tingles of electricity through to my toes. He must have sneaked in a mint because the kiss tasted like cinnamon. I liked cinnamon.
He drove me home and double-parked in front of my row house. We turned toward each other. After a moment of comfortable silence, I conjured up a teasing tone. “I’m sure glad we got that first-kiss thing over with back there.”
He smiled. “Me, too. That’s a real stressor.”
We both slid toward the console and leaned in toward each other. He put one hand on my upper thigh and the other on the back of my neck and pulled me close. This kiss was deep and long and made my legs go weak. When our lips parted, I opened my eyes. I was more than a little annoyed that he wasn’t looking at me. I followed his gaze to Mrs. Bianco’s porch. She stood in her housecoat, looking at us with a silly grin. She was clapping.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
My cell phone woke me. It was Sharlyn. She asked if I could stop by Hal’s on my way to work. She had something to show me. I dressed while replaying my date with Mark in my head. It had been a great evening. Mark was smart, funny, and hard working. The kind of guy to bring home to momma.
I was at Hal’s by eight. They didn’t open until eleven, so Sharlyn was there alone. She led me to a booth in the back where her giant tote bag sat. She reached in, pulled out a notebook, and pushed it in front of me. “What’s this?”
“It’s Darnell’s. When I moved my things out, I gathered everything in a hurry. I had a lot of notebooks there with my recipes. I shoved them all into a box. I was sorting through everything yesterday, and I found that.”
It was black ledger with a faux-leather cover. I opened it. It contained a list of names and dollar figures. It appeared to be an index of buyers who owed him money. Darnell ran lines of credit for his customers.
“I don’t think he knows it’s missing. Everything’s marked ‘paid.’ He must have started another list in a different ledger.”
I stared at the ledger with the reverence deserving of the holy scripture. “This is gold.”
This was the nail in Darnell’s coffin. The ledger had names, dates, quantities of product, and costs. It was indisputable evidence of Darnell’s drug dealings. Chip should be able to negotiate a plea bargain with this kind of proof.
I took the ledger and headed to the office to call Chip, hoping that Sharlyn wouldn’t have to testify at all.
Before I reached my desk, Franco called. He had a flair for the dramatic. “Look out your window.”
His town car was parked right in front of my office window. Elvis and Paulie stood guard, their arms crossed against their massive pectorals.
“I assume you’re in the heavily guarded town car outside my window?”
“You assumed correctly. I have something for you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I marched toward the town car with the confidence of someone who had done this many times.
Elvis and Paulie each took a step in opposite directions as I approached, exposing the rear passenger door. I opened the door and leaned my head inside. Franco was seated in the opposite corner of the spacious town car. It had two seats that ran the width of the interior. Franco was sitting in the forward-facing seats. I positioned myself opposite him. He was wearing his usual tailored silk suit and shiny black shoes. His black socks had some yellow figures on them. He noticed me trying to take a closer look.
“Minions,” he said.
“As in Despicable Me?”
“Yeah. I love those little guys. I watch the movies with my grandson all the time. My daughter bought me the socks.”
“I like them. They show your whimsical side. Makes you seem less scary.”
“Then I shouldn’t wear them. It seems I don’t scare you anymore.”
“You scare the hell out of me. I’m just getting better at hiding it.”
He made a sudden move mimicking a punch to my throat. I flinched.
“Just making sure I still got it.”
He held up a brown grocery bag that was folded at the top and sat it on the seat next to me.
“Is that the money?”
“It ain’t lunch.” He bugged out his eyes and gave me a slanted smile.
“You’re forgetting—this shady business stuff is new to me. I’m used to getting paid by check.” I lifted the bag up and down as if measuring its weight. Like I know what $20,000 in cash feels likes. “So, what’s appropriate in these situations? Do I peek into the bag? Do I count it?”
“Do you want to offend me?”
“Oh, I definitely don’t want to do that.” I glanced outside to see Elvis and Paulie still standing guard. I wished Darnell and Mad Dog could see me in the company of Franco Giovanni and his henchmen. Bet they’d stop messing with Sharlyn and me. “What does it cost to have a bodyguard?”
“My arrangement with those two is a little unorthodox and strictly confidential. Why? You need protection?”
I told him about Darnell, the threats from Mad Dog, and the shootings. “They’re not part of your organization, are they?”
He shook his head. “No, but I know who they are. They’re low-hanging fruit. Darnell’s a two-bit drug dealer who acts like he’s the head of a cartel. I’m not in the drug business anymore. Not since the O’Mallory bust. But I can tell you that witness intimidation is a common practice with those guys. He’s being a punk. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“That’s what everyone says, but it’s hard not to worry when someone points a gun at you.”
I grabbed the bag and scooted my butt over toward the door. “Thank you for working with me on this.” I jiggled the bag of money. “And thanks for your perspective on my death threats.” I got out of the car, stuck my head back in, and said, “Nice doin’ bidness witcha.”
He laughed at my lame street accent. I closed the car door and bounced back to the office carrying the brown sack of money. I was pleased to have finalized Tony’s claim, but all this cash made me nervous.
Kari saw me walk in and eyed the bag. “You got lunch already?” It was ten in the morning.
“No. It’s Tony’s settlement. Twenty Gs in cash.”
“Girl, we gotta get you to the bank.” She buzzed into Dawson’s office. “Dawson, we need to run to the bank.”
Dawson joined us at Kari’s desk with a putter in his hand. “What’s going on? I got a tee time in thirty minutes.” He narrowed in on the bag. “What’s that?”
I opened the bag and stuck it under his chin. He let out a whistle. “So, you managed to get some money out of Franco.” He patted my shoulder. “Well done. How much?”
“There’s $20,000 in here. $5,000 is our fee. The rest is Tony’s.”
Dawson eyes wandered for a couple of seconds. I knew he was doing the math in his head. “Our fee shoul
d be $6,600, right?”
I held firm. “No, this a backroom deal. There’s no contract, no documentation at all. Franco could have kept his offer at the original $15,000, but he didn’t. He said our fee is $5,000, and that’s what it is. Period.”
Dawson held up his hands. “Settle down. I was just asking. You two go ahead and get to the bank. I’ve got too much cash in the safe.”
“Don’t run off to play golf until we get back,” Kari said. “Marty’s in court. You’re the only one here.” She turned to me. “Let’s take your car. I’ll hold the money.”
We were stopped at the corner of Charles and Monument Streets when we saw Delroy strolling towards us with his friend Ronnie. Kari rolled down her window as they approached.
Delroy was holding a manila envelope. “I was on my way to see you guys. I saw Marshall yesterday. He wanted me to drop off these medical bills.”
“Go on over to the office. We’re going to the bank. Be back in a couple of minutes,” Kari said.
The light turned green and I accelerated through the intersection. As I increased the pressure on the gas pedal, I felt movement around my foot. Adrenaline shot through my system when I looked down and saw a black snake moving around the floor.
“Snake!” I screamed and slammed on the brake. But it wasn’t the brake. It was the gas pedal. The car lurched forward. I lifted both feet off the floor to avoid contact with the snake.
Kari screamed, too, and jumped up onto her seat. “A snake! Stop the car.” Sheer panic had set in. The snake slithered in impossible directions. With neither foot on the gas or the brake and neither of my hands on the steering wheel, the car was on a comically slow, yet uncontrollable path toward a parked Cadillac Escalade. Kari unbuckled her seat belt, squatted in her seat, and reached for the door handle while the car was still rolling. I followed her lead and unbuckled. Before we could eject ourselves, my front bumper made contact with the rear door of the Escalade and came to an abrupt stop. While Kari and I maintained our positions on top of our seats, the snake was still in frenetic motion. Then, for an instant, it froze. I swear it looked right up at me before disappearing under my seat.
“It’s under my seat!”
We were still screaming when Delroy came to my side of the car.
“You been drinking, Jess?”
“Snake!” There’s a snake in the car.”
Kari opened her door and jumped through. I followed her out, closing and locking the door behind me.
Delroy joined us as we stood outside the vehicle at a safe distance. The front of my car was tucked into the rear quarter panel of the black Escalade. It was blocking one lane of travel, causing a hiccup in the flow of traffic.
“Why’s there a snake in your car?”
I knew why. It was Darnell. He planted it as another warning. I needed to call Sharlyn and warn her. While I dialed her number, Kari tapped my arm. She stood trance-like, staring at the car. “The money. The bag of money is in the car.”
Great. My brown bag of hard earned money was being held hostage by a creepy black snake. I left a quick message for Sharlyn and refocused my attention on the car.
Delroy, quick to pick up on things, said, “You’ve got a snake AND a bag of money on your car?”
“Yup.”
“How much money?”
“A lot,” I said.
“You sure you ain’t been drinking?”
“No, but I could sure use one.”
“Don’t worry, Jess. I’ll get your money.” He bounded over to the car and opened the back door. After pausing to scan the rear interior, he stuck his head in and called back to us. “Are you sure there was just one snake?”
“We only saw one,” Kari said.
The upper half of Delroy’s body disappeared into the car. “Got it!” He was backing himself out of the car, brown bag of money in hand, when he screamed. “Ahhh! There’s more. More snakes! ... Ow!” He banged the top of his head coming up out of the car but kept his grip on the bag. He staggered over to us. “I think we need to call animal control.”
I thanked Delroy for his heroics. “How many snakes did you see?”
“Two, but there could have been more.”
I took the bag from him and handed it to Kari. “Will you call Dawson and tell him that we have car trouble? Ask him to track down Marty. Maybe he can take you to the bank while I deal with the car.”
I was grateful that the owner of the Escalade hadn’t shown up. The damage to both cars was minor, but as far as I was concerned, mine wasn’t drivable until the snakes were exorcised.
Kari hung up the phone after talking with Dawson. “Marty’s on his way.”
I dialed 311 and was transferred to a dispassionate woman in the animal control unit. She was unimpressed with my snake-infested car. I supposed they’d seen it all over the years. She said all eligible personnel were currently purging a vacant warehouse of a family of raccoons. The estimated response time for my non-emergency would be about four hours. I told her I would find another way.
I called Bucky at Bucky’s Auto Repair. He had a tow truck. Maybe he’d haul my car away and perform a snake-ectomy. He remembered me. “How’s that new tire holding up for you?”
“It’s fine, but I have another problem.” I told him about the snakes and asked if he could help me.
“Sure can. You know this happened last month to another customer of mine. He pissed off some guy—owed him money or something—and the guy put three black snakes in his minivan. Found ‘em on the way to little league with four kids in the car.”
I was happy to learn that Bucky had experience solving this kind of problem, yet somehow disappointed that my situation wasn’t unique. “How soon can you be here? I’m at Charles and Monument.”
“Be there in fifteen minutes.”
Marty picked up Kari and the brown bag of money. They sped off in the direction of the bank. Delroy remained at my side.
“Thank you for your help. You don’t have to stick around. I’ve got my mechanic coming.”
“I ain’t got nothing else to do. I’ll stick around until he gets here.”
Bucky showed up as Kari and Marty returned from the bank. He showed no apprehension about the slithering serpents and retrieved our purses from the car without incident before hooking it up and hauling it way. He promised to have the snakes removed by tomorrow morning.
#
As soon as I returned to the office, I called Chip and told him I had something to show him that may change the direction of Darnell’s upcoming trial. We agreed to meet at Oscar’s Pub near the Harbor at five thirty. Interesting that he wanted to meet at a bar on a Friday evening. Was this standard Assistant-State’s-Attorney procedure? I didn’t want to over-think it.
When I arrived, Chip was seated at the bar with a beer in front of him, chatting with the bartender. I saddled up in the stool next to his and placed my briefcase at my feet. “Come here often?”
He turned and locked eyes with me. A genuine smile formed on his face. “I’m glad you could meet me here. It’s been a tough couple of days. I thought we could both use a drink.”
“You thought right.”
Chip signaled the bartender for me. “I’ll have a Corona too, please.”
“So, what do you have for me?”
Right to business, I see. I didn’t want to display my evidence on the open bar. “We should get a booth.” I grabbed my briefcase, he took both beers, and we slid into a booth in the rear. I checked the table to make sure it was clean and opened the briefcase enough to slide out the ledger.
He flipped through the pages. I gave him a minute to digest what he saw. He looked up at me with raised eyebrows then looked back at the ledger. I knew it was useless unless I could connect it to Darnell. “Sharlyn found it among her notebooks after she moved out of Darnell’s place.”
I could see the wheels turning. His eyes scanned the pages. His lips curled into a slanted smile and tapped the ledger. “This is gold. With this evidenc
e, Darnell would be a fool not to plea out.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He raised his glass. “To putting scumbags away.”
I tapped my glass against his.
“So how does this work? Do you think it will get resolved before Sharlyn has to show up for trial?”
“Let’s find out.” He pulled out his cell phone, punched some numbers, and leaned back into the corner of our booth.
“It would make a world of difference to Sharlyn and me if you could get a truthful statement about the accident from Darnell. You know, as part of the plea.”
He held up a finger to silence me and said, “We’ll see.” His demeanor was casual, like he was ordering a pizza. He took a pull on his beer.
“Billy, it’s Chip.” He winked at me. “I’ve got some new evidence that may have you rethinking my plea offer for Darnell Black.” I listened in as he explained the contents of the ledger in detail. As he spoke, I realized that this guy was a bit condescending, a bit arrogant, a bit of a cocky bastard. Still, part of me admired his confidence. From what I could hear, he was going to get his plea deal. I continued to study him.
He disconnected. “He was rattled by this. He wants to see it for himself. You did good work, counselor. Ever think of leaving Dawson and coming to work for a real cause?”
A real cause? Was he implying that my work wasn’t a real cause? He was a cocky bastard and he’d just pissed me off.
“I make a difference where I am, Chip. I’m not going anywhere.” I finished my beer in one long gulp and stood to leave.
Chip rose and grabbed my wrist. Regret registered in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. You just don’t know any better.” I pulled free and headed for the exit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Orioles were playing at 7:05. I planned to watch the game with the twins on their front porch.
On my way home, I stopped at Yoder’s Liquor store to pick up a twelve-pack of Corona to bring to the viewing party, and a bottle of Mrs. Bianco’s favorite port to thank her for her help with Tony’s case. Yoder’s used to be a homely place with rusty steel strips holding in bulletproof panels covered with faded advertising posters. It was rebuilt after a fire destroyed the building a year ago. The authorities never determined the cause of the fire. The end result was a crisp new storefront in keeping with the recent renewal of the business district near the waterfront. I walked in and was greeted by the same Pakistani man who always worked the register at this hour. He was tearing off a long strip of lottery scratch-off tickets for an elderly woman. She reached for the tickets with one hand while the other gripped her cane.