Double Dead

by Gary Hardwick

  “They were talking about breaking the law, Richard,” said Jesse. “Railroading Louise Yancy if necessary. We can create justice? What else does that mean?”

  “I didn't hear that. I just heard an offer of help,” Dick Steals said calmly. He was about to leave when Jesse stepped in front of him.

  “We'll prosecute this case by the book, Richard, or I'm gone right now,” Jesse said.

  “No one's talking about anything illegal,” said Dick Steals. “But let's not piss off the mayor. He can help our careers.”

  “Fuck our careers,” said Jesse. The conversation with Louise Yancy and Kelly’s statement had made him angry. “Justice, Richard. Do you remember that? Remember your oath? No one can create justice.”

  “Forever the Boy Scout, huh?” said Dick Steals. “Fine. Be a Boy Scout.”

  After Richard left the room, Jesse lingered. He fought back his anger. His people had truly achieved equality, he thought. Blacks had gone from being the victims of perverted justice to perverting it themselves.

  Jesse walked out of the room into the hallway. It was empty and looked ominous. He made no attempt to catch Dick Steals in the elevator. He was thinking about Louise Yancy's entreaty, Walter Nicks's convenient disappearing act, and Crawford's indecent proposal.

  13

  Face Of Fear

  Cane stood in the shadows of the alley as Tico watched the street. Walker was in a car around the corner. Walker was their safety net in case things went wrong.

  It was only six o'clock, but it was already getting dark. Cane was happy. The night came early in the fall, and he was going to take apart one of LoLo's rollers. They were on a side street, close to one of LoLo's places of business.

  Tico and Walker had wanted to do a drive-by, but to Cane, that was bullshit. Killing was a matter of darkness, best performed up close and personal. He liked to look into a man's eyes, into his soul, when he did it. That's what made Cane unafraid of killing, unafraid of Him.

  “I don't know why I let you do this,” Tico said. He stood on the sidewalk about ten feet in front of Cane. He was dressed in shabby clothes and held a crumpled-up paper bag with a bottle in it.

  “Do you see them yet?” asked Cane.

  “Not yet,” said Tico. “This shit is fucked up.”

  “It has to be this way,” said Cane. “When this is over, we'll have this city beneath our feet. We'll be able to enjoy our hard work, while other people take the risks. But to do that, we have to get rid of these bitches.”

  Cane raised his hand to Tico. On it he wore a black leather glove covered in metal spikes. Cane had seen it in a kinky little sex shop on Eight Mile. He'd sharpened the dull little spikes himself. It was heavy, pointed, and nasty. Just what he needed.

  “You are crazy and full of shit,” Tico said, pointing to the glove.

  “Maybe, but I will beat these women,” said Cane. “You got anything on Jaleel yet?”

  “Not yet,” said Tico. “But I got one of his people watching him for me. If he's stealing, we'll find out.” Tico looked down the street, then back at Cane. “Someone's coming.”

  Tico pulled his skullcap down around his face and leaned back against a telephone pole, doing his best drunk imitation.

  Sheri and Little Jack walked down the side street, closer to Tico. They slowed when they saw him. Sheri said something to Little Jack, then went out in front, moving closer to Tico.

  “You can't be standing here, pops,” said Sheri. She had her hand behind her back. Tico said nothing. He just pretended to take a drink, keeping his face from them.

  “Get yo drunk ass outta here, nigga,” said Sheri. “We rollin' up in here.”

  Tico was silent. He moved closer to the alley's entrance.

  Little Jack took out a gun but held it to his side.

  “Look, old muthafucka, you gotta go,” said the boy. He moved next to Sheri.

  The rollers stood side by side. Tico just looked down and away from the pair. Little Jack took a step closer, and Tico grabbed the boy and wrestled him into the alley. A shot went off into the ground.

  Sheri was lifting her gun when Cane emerged from the shadows. She almost screamed at the sight of the one-eyed man and the thing on his hand. Cane grabbed her and carried her off into the alley.

  Tico was holding Little Jack on the alley floor. The boy struggled, striking out at Tico. Tico picked him up and put Little Jack's own gun to his head. At the feel of the gun's barrel Little Jack stopped his fighting.

  “Say one word and you dead,” Tico said. “Where's the damn money?” Little Jack reluctantly pointed at his jacket. Tico felt it. The lining was leaden with money.

  Cane had Sheri's mouth covered with the spiked glove. He had grabbed her gun. He tossed it aside. He stared into her eyes. Even in the dimness he could see the fear in them.

  “The gun fired, Cane,” said Tico. “Somebody might be comin'.”

  “Don't worry,” said Cane. “This won't take long. Hold him up so he can see this.”

  Tico brought Little Jack closer as Cane took the spiked glove from Sheri's mouth. It left angry red marks around her lips. Sheri drew a breath to scream as Cane curled the glove into a fist and brought it swiftly into her face.

  

  Ramona sat with LoLo and Yolanda in the drug house on Bristol Street, eating greasy takeout from a local restaurant. Her silly red wig was gone, and she was now dressed like the other Nasty Girls in baggy jeans and a big plaid shirt. Her braids fell in a cascade down her back. For the first time in days Ramona was not worried. Ironic that in the bosom of criminals, she felt safe.

  They'd had no luck opening the metal briefcase. It was solid and strong, but they'd promised to break it open later. Ramona didn't know what was inside but thought it might be valuable.

  “So, two big dudes in masks killed the mayor?” asked LoLo.

  “Right,” said Ramona. “They were serious too. They did Yancy, and they were gonna get me too.”

  “But it's all over the news. The mayor's wife did it,” said LoLo.

  “Well, that's bullshit,” said Ramona, “’cause I was there.”

  “So, you gonna tell the cops how it was?” LoLo asked.

  Yolanda turned to look at Ramona. She was interested in the answer.

  “Are you crazy? They will put my ass under the jail,” said Ramona.

  “You know, a lot of folks don't believe the mayor's wife did it,” said LoLo. “They're even offering a reward for the killer.”

  “Well, I'm not turning myself in,” said Ramona. “I don't know who these muthafuckas are who tried to kill me. They could be cops. I go in, and they got me for sure.”

  “Ms. Yancy's got money,” said LoLo. “She'll buy her way out of it. Anyway, I'm glad to see you, girl. You lookin' good. I like them braids.”

  “And it's all my hair,” said Ramona. “None of that fake shit, like you.”

  LoLo pulled off her ponytail. “Hey, this is my real hair. Wanna see the receipt?” She and Ramona laughed. Yolanda chuckled softly.

  “Well, you can lay low with us, make some money,” said LoLo.

  “I don't wanna deal, LoLo,” said Ramona. “I just need to get away. I don't need to get back in the life.”

  LoLo's face turned sour. “Yeah, I guess rollin' is a step down from sellin' pussy, huh?”

  Ramona stopped eating. “I ain't no ho.”

  “Right,” said LoLo. “I guess the mayor and your other men just gave you money 'cause you was cute and your hair is real. I know you always thought you was fine, but sellin' ass is sellin' ass.”

  “He cared about me!” Ramona said with anger. “My name--my name was the last thing he said before they killed him.” She was fighting a wave of emotion.

  “Really?” LoLo laughed. “I thought his last words would have been ‘Swallow it, bitch.’ “ LoLo laughed loudly and high-fived with Yolanda.

  Ramona was furious. She grabbed LoLo by the collar and pulled the smaller woman to her. LoLo jerked to get
away, but Ramona held her.

  LoLo pulled her gun and put it under Ramona's chin. “Turn me loose-- now.”

  Ramona looked LoLo in the eyes for a second, then let her go. LoLo kept the gun leveled at Ramona, the smaller woman's eyes were cold. Yolanda quickly moved between the angry women.

  Ramona and LoLo just looked at each other with anger and hurt. Ramona now remembered the reasons she had left the Nasty Girls in the first place. LoLo was a good friend, but she was also jealous, evil, and loved to hurt people.

  Ramona and LoLo each backed away, not speaking. Ramona sat down in a chair and stared out the dirty window of the house.

  Little Jack ran into the room. His face was moist with sweat; his eyes were wild. “Cane hit us!” Little Jack said. “He caught me and Sheri over by Nevada!”

  “Damn that mother--” LoLo said. She slammed the table and for a moment didn't know what to do. “Where's Sheri?” LoLo asked.

  “Gone,” said Little Jack.

  “What the fuck do you mean, gone?” asked LoLo. “He killed her?”

  “Yeah, real bad too.” Little Jack was still scared.

  “What about the money?” asked LoLo.

  Little Jack shook his head. “He got it all.”

  “Fuck!” LoLo said. She threw her food against the wall. She grabbed Little Jack by the collar. “You let him take all my money?”

  “Her face... Sheri's face... it was all gone.” Little Jack choked out the words.

  “Stop talkin' stupid, boy,” said LoLo.

  “No, for real. Cane beat it off with some kind of glove with knives on it.”

  LoLo let the boy go. Her face showed her anger, but there was hurt in her eyes, too.

  “Damn,” said Ramona quietly.

  “Crazy muthafucka,” said LoLo. “All right. This is what he wanted. Yolanda, get our people together.”

  Yolanda sprang up and started to the door.

  “It's what he wants you to do,” said Ramona.

  “What?” asked LoLo, wheeling on her.

  “Moving on him now,” said Ramona. “He wants you to act out now. That way he can get you all.”

  “Wha--” said Little Jack. “You just showed up here yesterday, woman. You don't know shit.”

  Ramona ignored Little Jack. Her gaze was fixed on LoLo. “He'll be waiting for you to come, and you know it,” said Ramona.

  “Fuck her,” Little Jack cried. “Let's go. I know where his main place is. We can burn that muthafucka to the ground!”

  LoLo slapped Little Jack on the side of his head. “Shut up. You lucky I don't cap your ass for losing my money. Ramona's right,” she said finally. “If it was me, I'd do the same thing. Hit my enemy, then hope they try something. We're supposed to be stupid ass women. Yolanda, get the word out to my people to crank up production. Little Jack, you talk to my main rollers on the street. Call in some debts. I won't be able to pay them white boys if I'm low on cash.”

  Little Jack was about to protest but didn't. He left. Yolanda followed him without a word.

  Ramona walked over to LoLo. She looked at her old friend. Ramona could see in LoLo's face the apology that her friend would never bring herself to say.

  “Come on,” said Ramona. “I'll help you make a plan. Just like the old days.”

  14

  Arraignment

  The courtroom was packed. D’Estenne had been unsuccessful at banning TV cameras, and they lined the walls. Louise Yancy's family filled the first row, their faces somber, angry. The mayor had two grown children, a son and a daughter. They had come into town on short notice to be with their mother. Reporters, politicians, and leaders of community groups filled in the other seats.

  The same old faces, thought Jesse. NAACP, the Urban League, national black this and neighborhood that. Whenever there was an event, they would all come out for the party, seeking to be seen and eventually to become a part of the process.

  Jesse was happy to be in court at last. Since the press conference he'd been dodging reporters and trying to ignore all the angry phone calls and threats he'd gotten. In the eyes of some, prosecuting Louise Yancy made him the ultimate traitor to black people.

  Jesse sat at his table with Dick Steals. Richard was in a good mood. He lived for this kind of thing. And just coincidentally the morning paper had a profile on him calling him “a new breed of prosecutor.” Dick Steals again, Jesse thought.

  Ira Hoffman and Karen were opposite them in the courtroom, flanking Louise Yancy. Jesse tried not to look at Karen. She was striking in a blue suit with a tight skirt. Her hair was down, falling to her shoulders. And her breasts looked good under her shimmering pearl blouse. Karen had turned heads when she entered the courtroom.

  D’Estenne was in his office, watching the feed on TV. He'd wanted to come and even to sit at the table, but Jesse had convinced him that his presence would be too distracting. D’Estenne had not argued much. His guest appearance with Carol Salinsky had gone on live and garnered the station's highest ratings that year. D’Estenne was a happy man.

  Karen and Hoffman were rushing the case for some reason. They'd waived the twelve-day rule that mandated that a defendant have a preliminary examination twelve days after being arraigned.

  A preliminary examination, or prelim, as the lawyers call it, is a hearing wherein the court decides if there is sufficient evidence to warrant probable cause that a defendant committed the crimes he is charged with. Most of the time this proceeding is routine. The court will find probable cause, and a defendant is bound over for trial. But in this case Jesse knew that Karen and Ira would try to spring Louise Yancy, using everything they had.

  And so they insisted on a preliminary examination the same week of the arraignment, which gave Jesse only a few days to prepare. D’Estenne and Dick Steals both had eagerly agreed.

  Jesse wanted to wait. He wanted more time to contemplate a strategy and plug the holes in the case. But he was a lone voice. Everyone was in a big damn hurry to end this one.

  “Thirty-six District Court is now in session,” said the bailiff. “The Honorable Mason Johnson presiding.”

  Judge Johnson took the bench. He was from Mississippi but had come to Detroit and married into one of the city's most powerful families. “Well, let's get to it,” said Johnson in his southern drawl.

  “People versus Louise Monroe Yancy,” said the bailiff.

  Counsel introduced themselves, and Karen took the podium next to Louise Yancy.

  “Ms. Yancy, how do you plead in this matter?” said Johnson.

  “Not guilty,” said Louise Yancy. Six black women in the back of the courtroom burst into cheering and applause. Bailiffs went to them and began to usher them out. The TV cameras got it all for posterity.

  “Black women, unite!” they chanted. Several bailiffs rushed to their seats. Others put their hands on their weapons. The women were then physically removed from the room.

  The courtroom settled down after a while. But Jesse was upset. This case was already becoming a circus.

  “Okay, anyone else want to watch from the local bar?” said Johnson. He was enjoying his moment in the public eye. “All right, counsel, now the moment we've all been waiting for. Bail. I've read the briefs submitted, and I'm ready to make a decision, but I will hear argument first. Mr. King.”

  Jesse stepped forward. “The people request no bail be given, Your Honor. This is a first-degree murder case. Ms. Yancy is a wealthy woman. She has access to many means of--”

  “Your Honor, the people didn't see fit to--”

  “I'm not finished, counsel,” Jesse snapped. He and Karen stared each other down. Jesse wanted her to know that she would not be allowed to take over this case.

  “Let him finish, Ms. Bell,” said the judge.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” said Jesse. “Ms. Yancy is a flight risk. And this is first-degree murder, where as you know bail is not normally granted. I refer the Court to the cases cited in our brief. Our office will take every precaution to insure M
s. Yancy's safety while incarcerated.” Jesse sat down.

  “Your Honor, this is ridiculous,” said Karen. “Ms. Yancy is not a threat to society. She's not some stick-up man. She's the first lady of Detroit. She's involved with at least twenty charitable and community organizations and has extended family and businesses in the city. She is a woman of honor, and she'd be running away from her life if she left town. Bail's only purpose is to guarantee the appearance of the defendant. But money doesn't tie Louise Yancy to this city. What binds her is three decades of love, service, duty, and family. For her that is the ultimate bail.” Karen stepped back from the mike. The gallery applauded loudly.

  Jesse took a deep breath. Karen was as good as ever. “Murder, Your Honor,” said Jesse, standing up again. “Society's most heinous crime. Harris Yancy was a leader, a legend in this city. And he was killed like an animal. It's like Dr. King or JFK being assassinated. We understand that a defendant is innocent until proven guilty, but the scrutiny of the people has fallen upon Louise Yancy, and the people deserve the security of knowing that she will be here to see justice done to the memory of her late husband.”

  Jesse was surprised at a smattering of applause in the gallery.

  “Ms. Bell?” said the judge.

  “A fine speech, Your Honor, but the fact is the prosecutor's office allowed my client to remain free after they knew she would be charged with this crime.”

  “Sidebar, Your Honor!” Jesse said.

  All the lawyers walked to the judge's bench. Johnson turned off his microphone.

  “Your Honor,” Dick Steals said, “that was a matter of courtesy extended to Ms. Yancy for one day!”

  “But it was extended,” said Ira Hoffman.

  “It wasn't in their brief on bail, Your Honor,” said Dick Steals. “I think that it shouldn't be allowed at this late stage.”

  “I can't believe you would use this, Karen,” said Jesse.

  “After what you did with my client?” said Karen. “Be for real.”