Forever a Hustler's Wife

by Nikki Turner

  She turned around to leave, then quickly swung back around, scaring Robin. “Oh, you won’t be needing this.” She snatched the basket off the table and left.

  As she got to her car, she sat there for a minute, trying to get herself together. Why did this mess have to happen today of all days—when she was about to try the biggest case of her life? She took a deep breath and focused on the trial ahead of her before praying for God’s angels to surround and protect her as well as guide her during the trial. Finally, she prayed for Desi and for Des, that God would protect him, whatever he was doing. “Lord give me the strength! Watch over my family and my friends, and give me the actions and words to win this case.”

  Once she had pulled herself together, she gave Des a call, knowing that hearing his voice before the trial would help her to focus. She was disappointed when she got his voice mail.

  She was mentally rehearsing her opening statement when her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and groaned. She did not need to talk to her mother-in-law right then. When Joyce hung up and called right back, Yarni picked up, fearing that something was wrong.

  “Hello?” Yarni said.

  “Am I still supposed to pick up the baby today?” Joyce asked, ignoring Yarni’s greeting.

  “Yes, Joyce,” Yarni said, rolling her eyes.

  “I still can’t believe you put that baby in day care. There’s no reason for her to be there. I told you I could take care of her,” Joyce fussed.

  “I know you could. Look, Joyce, we appreciate all you’ve done for Desi, but she’s getting older, and she needs to start interacting with other kids more. It’s not like she’s there every day. You still get to keep her two days a week, and if you’d like you can see her during the weekends, too,” Yarni said, trying to be reasonable despite hating the thought of having to see her mother-in-law any more than she already did.

  “But there are seven days in a week. That means the people at the day care center are seeing her as much as her own family. That’s not right. You don’t know what kind of nonsense those people are putting into that baby’s head.”

  “Joyce, Desi is fine. This center has a really good reputation. It’s the top one in the city. We’re lucky we were even able to get Desi in. It normally takes people six months to a year just to get their children in.”

  “Whatever,” Joyce said. “So should I get her at four?”

  “That’s fine,” Yarni said. “Look, I’m pulling up to my office, so I’ll talk to you later. Thanks again.” She hung up before Joyce could answer.

  Before going to court Yarni went to her office to change into another suit and was greeted by a stack of phone messages. Layla was out sick, so she decided to ignore them and was just about to head into her office when the phone rang. She sighed and answered it, since Unique, who was helping out at the office since she arrived, had stepped away from her desk.

  “Good afternoon,” she said.

  “Good afternoon to you, Yarni,” a slick voice replied.

  Yarni felt her skin crawl. “Why are you calling me?” she said.

  “Why, I just wanted to wish you luck on your case. You’re going to need it,” Marvin Sledge said, and chuckled.

  Yarni smiled to herself. Had the man even gone to his office? Didn’t he notice that a large number of his files were missing, thanks to Bambi’s contact?

  “Oh, I’m going to win,” she said confidently.

  Sledge laughed. “If you say so. Why don’t we get together afterward, no matter what the outcome of the case, and celebrate?”

  Yarni pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. The man really was crazy. She decided she had given him enough of her time and hung up without responding. She whispered a small prayer, asking God not to allow Sledge to ruin her day, then headed to her office to change. She was greeted by a huge arrangement of sunflowers, her favorite. God surely answers prayers, she thought. Of course the flowers were from Des. Yarni didn’t know if it was the sight of the sunny-looking flowers or the card that put her into an extra-good mood, which she needed after talking to Joyce. The card read:

  Everything important to me begins with you.

  In any state and in any state of mind,

  You’re my first lady!

  Loving you for life,

  Des

  That alone melted her heart and gave her an extra boost of confidence. She changed and headed over to the courtroom, where she kicked some ass; an award-winning actress could not have put on a better performance. She was so savvy; she looked like the black female version of Johnny Cochran as she nailed the case in cross-examination.

  She paced the courtroom in her Ellen Tracy suit and Jimmy Choo pumps as she spoke to the prosecution’s eyewitness. “Mr. Smith, you testified that on the night of the crime you were there on the street at about ten P.M. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  Yarni nodded and continued as she moved back and forth in front of the jury. “And you further stated that you were across the street from where you saw Mr. Johnson commit these crimes that he’s being tried for today. Is that also correct?”

  Again, he replied, “Yeah.” He slouched down in his seat, looking bored.

  Yarni leaned in and asked, “About how far were you from where you claim you saw these crimes committed? Was it as far as the back of the courtroom, which is probably a hundred yards?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Mr. Smith, isn’t it true that normally you wear glasses, which, for the record, you are not wearing today?”

  “Yeah, but I broke my glasses a while back.”

  Yarni pressed. “On the night of the alleged crimes, you didn’t have your glasses on, did you, Mr. Smith?” She then put up a finger and said to him in a firm tone, “Remember, you are under oath, and perjury is punishable as a felony.”

  The witness hesitated then replied, “Naw, I didn’t have no glasses on that night, but I can see fine.”

  Yarni smirked at him then moved to the back of the courtroom, where she had a woman stand. She then asked, “Mr. Smith, can you identify the person standing here next to me?”

  The witness strained and squinted, then said, “Naw, I’ve never seen that person before.”

  “Mr. Smith, are you sure you’ve never seen this person before?”

  Again, the witness squinted, and said, “I told you, no.”

  “Mr. Smith, the person in the back you claimed never to have seen before is Angie Williams, Mr. Samuel Johnson’s current girlfriend and your ex-girlfriend. Do you still maintain you’ve never seen her before? You do have three children together.”

  The witness began to offer excuse after excuse. “Shoot, it’s kind of dark in here. And I don’t have my glasses. Maybe she changed her hairdo.”

  “It was dark the night you said you could positively identify my client as the shooter, Mr. Smith. But what is the real reason you fingered my client as the shooter? Isn’t it true that you’ve been trying to get your girlfriend back so you won’t have to pay child support?”

  “Objection, Your Honor. She’s badgering the witness,” the prosecutor interjected frantically.

  “I’ll allow it,” the judge said.

  “No,” said the witness. “I takes care of mine.”

  Angie could be heard snorting from the back of the courtroom.

  “And you figured that by getting my client out of the way, she’d come back to you.”

  Angie responded from the back of the courtroom: “Samuel could have never been born, and I still wouldn’t get back with that deadbeat-dad, minute man, limp-dick motherfucker.”

  The whole courtroom broke out in laughter. The judge banged his gavel, calling for order.

  “You no good bitch!” Smith stood up and yelled to Angie, “That motherfucker think he gonna be a daddy to my kids? Fuck that! If he didn’t do that shit, I bet he know who did,” he tried to explain to Yarni.

  Yarni looked over at the prosecutor, whose normal arrogant e
xpression was replaced by a sickly grimace.

  “I rest my case,” Yarni said. She pranced back to her seat at the defense table, trying to keep from skipping.

  After closing arguments, the jury deliberated for less than an hour before returning to the courtroom.

  The judge asked, “Foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?”

  The foreman of the jury stood, holding the verdict forms, and after Yarni and Samuel were asked to stand, the foreman replied, “Yes, Your Honor, we have. On count one, murder in the first degree, not guilty.” Yarni squeezed Samuel’s hand when she heard the verdict and was so excited, she almost missed the other counts. “On count two, tampering with state’s evidence, we find the defendant not guilty. Count three, possession of a firearm, we find the defendant not guilty.” The foreperson continued to list Samuel’s charges, and they all came back with a verdict of not guilty.

  Before Yarni could react, Samuel lifted her off the ground and swung her around, kissing her on the cheek. “You did it!” he shouted.

  When he put her down, she returned the hug. “We did it,” she said. “Thank you, Lord.” She thought to herself how the Lord worked in mysterious ways. There was really no secret file. Marvin had made the whole thing up. Bambi had stolen every single file in his office. She and Yarni stayed up for hours going through every piece of paper there, and there was nothing, no indication of any evidence. In fact, Marvin hadn’t the foggiest idea as to how he was going to win the case, and that’s why he was so cocky when he made the call to her that morning. Yarni knew God knew her heart when it came to this case and he would see her through.

  Yarni settled down as the judge turned to address the jury. “I’d like to thank all of you for performing your civic obligations by sitting on this jury and considering these charges in a fair manner. Your time and effort is greatly appreciated by the Commonwealth. At this time, I’m going to dismiss the jury. Members of the jury, you are free to go; however, the defendant will remain in the courtroom.”

  Once the jurors were completely out of the courtroom, the judge turned to the sheriffs and said, “Sheriffs, would you please restrain the defendant with handcuffs and leg irons.”

  Yarni looked up in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on.

  The judge looked directly in Samuel’s eyes and spoke to him firmly, “Mr. Johnson, you are warned that any resistance at this point will add to an already bad situation for you.” The sheriffs approached Samuel and placed both handcuffs and leg irons on him. Samuel’s face mirrored the confusion and bewilderment that was on Yarni’s face. What the hell is going on? she thought.

  The judge saw the rage coming upon Samuel’s face. “I’m going to further admonish you not to make any statements except through your counsel. I want first to commend your attorney, Mrs. Taylor, for the fine job she did in conducting your case and bringing forth an acquittal on your behalf on all charges. Excellent job, Mrs. Taylor. Unfortunately, your client, Mr. Johnson, has some other issues that we must now deal with.”

  He glared at Samuel, who didn’t say a word. “Mr. Johnson, I take very seriously your prior conduct in throwing a chair at one of my fellow colleagues and in assaulting your former attorney.” He raised his voice again, but his tone remained as firm as a Posturepedic mattress. “So, while you could have walked free from this courtroom today, that is not going to be the case. I am finding you in contempt of court for your intentionally blatant misconduct of throwing a chair at an official of the court, and I’m sentencing you to serve two and a half years in prison with no time off for good behavior or early release. I am also finding that you committed assault and battery against your former attorney and am sentencing you to serve an additional two and a half years in prison, for a total of five years. Sheriff, take Mr. Johnson back to begin serving his sentence. Court is dismissed.” He banged his gavel.

  Yarni saw murder written all over Samuel’s face—if looks could kill, the judge would be kissing Jesus’ feet at that moment. She felt bad for Samuel, and as the bailiffs came to take him to the back, he asked, “Look, let me have a word with my attorney.”

  One deputy was about to say no, but Yarni shot him a look. “We’re going to be only a minute.”

  Before either of them spoke, they made sure the court officers were out of earshot and then he said to her in a whisper, “Listen, I’m forever grateful to you. I meant what I said to you at the jail. I owe you my life, and if anybody ever fucks with you…it’s done. We have a special bond, on some real shit. I’m indebted to you.”

  “No, you’re not. As I said, I was only doing my job.”

  “Naw, but you ain’t have to do that.”

  “Listen, go and stay out of trouble and in a couple of years, we’ll see if we can get you work release.” She patted him on the back. “Hold your head up, and remember, no storm lasts forever.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Ghost Killer

  Felix had violated him in such a foul way that Des felt he had to bring it to Felix’s front door—literally. Felix rarely left his turf when he was in Richmond, and Des wanted to make sure Felix knew that he wasn’t untouchable. It was time for Felix finally to pay the piper.

  After days of studying the man, Des determined that he was a big jerk-off whose main activities were sniffing dope and dropping Ecstasy pills. He laughed to himself, realizing that stupid Felix never once checked to see if he was being watched. As Des analyzed his mark, he knew that committing the actual crime would be a breeze, but the getaway route could be a problem. Finding the right route to make a smooth escape became his focus. He scoped four different possibilities in case shit got too deep—he wanted to be prepared for the worst.

  The day of reckoning was finally here. Des was on his cell phone, driving around the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for Felix. He had been waiting for hours, but the way he was feeling, he could stay there for a lifetime. He had decided this was going to be his last murder, and he wanted it to be perfect.

  Felix’s condo, though upscale, was small, with a tiny porch attached to the front and a low, flat roof that had green weeds all over it. There were a lot of well-manicured trees and bushes that hid the front of the house from the street. Felix had probably assumed that the bushes would be a great cover for the house. Too bad he had no idea that those bushes would end up being a double-edged sword, Des thought.

  Des rode past in a hoopty to check out the condo one more time. He observed Felix and his peeps leaving. Des parked up the block so he could get a full visual of the place and ate a sandwich, replaying the scene over one more time in his head. Once his food had been digested he said out loud, “Showtime.”

  Des drove off and parked two streets over, then began making his way to his spot on the roof. He wasn’t in a rush, and fear had not penetrated his heart. He quickly walked through the alleyway he had scoped out on one of his previous visits, and once he approached Felix’s backyard gate, he looked around to make sure that he wasn’t being watched. He then pulled out a tranquilizer gun and aimed it first at one, then the other, of the two big dogs that were tied to a fence, sending them into a state of immobility as the drugs rushed into their bloodstream. As he walked by the dogs, he plucked the darts out of them to dispose of later.

  He walked along the side of the house and climbed on top of the roof, which was hidden from view, thanks to the bushes. Three hours went by, and there was no motion at all in the house.

  As he waited, his thoughts were getting crazy. Anxiety and guilt started to set in. He promised God that if he let him get away with this murder, he’d never do another one. He knew he was tripping, but he believed in his heart that this had to be done.

  A black Mercedes CLK 320 pulled up. Two women got out and retrieved their shopping bags from the trunk and backseat of the car.

  “You really liked those shoes, huh?” one said.

  “Yeah, girl, they are so nice,” the other answered.

  “You know I’m going to wear them when I fuck t
he shit out of your brother tonight.” The first woman laughed.

  “I don’t want to hear that shit. TMI—too much information.”

  “He better hurry up and come on.”

  “Didn’t he say he was on his way?”

  “Yes. He said he’d be here in fifteen minutes, but that was twenty minutes ago.”

  “He should be pulling up any minute now.”

  They went inside the house, shut the door, and turned on some reggae music, but Des could still hear them talking.

  He listened in on the idle chitter chat as the girls continued to have diarrhea of the mouth, but he was distracted by the approaching sound of pounding bass. As it got closer, the entire house vibrated.

  Careless-ass nigga, Des thought. He took a deep breath and got into position.

  Felix pulled up in the passenger seat of a black Range Rover with his three homeboys. One of the guys got out of the backseat of the car and ran inside the house while the other backseat rider got out, stood on the curb, and lit a Black and Mild. Des zeroed in closer and realized the guy who was pulling on the cigar was Felix’s brother. The thought of how it would feel to see his own brother be assassinated in front of his very eyes gave Des a boost of energy. He thought about taking him out, too, just on general principle, but decided against it, remembering his promise to God earlier that day.

  He watched as Felix smoked a blunt and complained to the dude who had been in the backseat. “I wish this motherfucker hurry the hell up. Pacos, hurry up, man,” Felix yelled toward the house.

  “Papi, come in for a minute. Pacos is having problems,” one of the women said, coming to the door.

  “Mami, you just want to see me.” Felix knew what she was up to, but he opened up the door, got out of the car, and headed for the house.

  Des took aim. He couldn’t take any foolish chances, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to shoot. He didn’t want to blow it. Every step Felix took seemed to be in slow motion. As he got closer and closer, Des got more anxious. Felix finally got to the porch and opened the door. Des peeped down. Felix had one foot inside the doorway of the house. With the uncanny speed of a bolt of lightning, Des reached down and put his powerful .40 caliber to the back of Felix’s head and squeezed the trigger, knocking Felix out of his shoes and into the house. Just as quick, Des was back up on the roof. The women screamed as Des walked to the edge of the roof, making his getaway while Felix’s goons were busy shooting at nothing.