“We should wait awhile,” said Tico. “Wait for them to move, then--”
“You the man now, Tico?” asked Cane. He turned to face Tico and moved closer to him. His bad eye blinked quickly.
“Come on, Cane, you know it ain't like that.” Tico was scared but held his ground.
Cane turned back to the river. “Then we cool. You and Walker take that shitty-ass little house, while I deal with my new connection. Did you check out Jaleel yet? Is he stealing from me?”
Tico hesitated a moment. “Now don't go do no crazy shit, okay? Jaleel is skimming. The house is making money like never before, but he's holding back. Jaleel is hitting the pipe a lot and acting crazy. He even bought a gold collar for that little mutt-ass dog of his.”
“Okay,” said Cane calmly. “We hit the Girls again; then we deal with Mr. Jaleel.”
“All right,” said Tico. He was glad that Cane didn't get angry.
“I like it here,” said Cane. “This is the best place to watch the sun go down, to watch Him leave.”
Tico didn't respond. He hated when Cane got into this God and sunset shit. Cane was scary enough on the job, but this screwy philosophy of his was terrifying.
Three young men on ten-speeds rode up to them. Tico reached for his gun until he saw familiar faces. Cane glanced at them, then quickly climbed into his car. He never liked to talk. with street rollers.
“Wha'sup, nigga?” a young man said to Tico.
“What you doin' down here, Nickel?” Tico said.
The young man got off his bike and went up to Tico. He was about nineteen. Two other men were on bikes also.
“We been rollin' here,” said Nickel.
“Since when?” Tico looked shocked. “Since the cops slammed the Girls, this place has been wide open. You said take some initial, remember?”
“That's initiative, dumb-ass, and I didn't mean invade the damn island with your crew!”
Tico glanced at his own car. He didn't want to get Cane involved in this. Cane would go on talking about visions and philosophical shit.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Tico said. “Don't roll up in here until I say so.”
“Yeah-” said Nickel. “I'm out.”
Nickel was about to ride off when a bullet slammed into his chest. Nickel fell forward, his legs tangled in the big ten-speed.
Tico pulled his gun and jumped behind his car's front end.
The other two rollers left their bikes and scattered, running in opposite directions. Several other people screamed and ran. Car engines started. Someone burned rubber.
The sun was almost down, and Tico could not see very well. He had no idea where the shots came from. Cane had been sitting quietly in the car. Now he opened the door and stepped out.
“Cane, get the fu-- Get down!” Tico yelled.
More shots were fired. Tico shot in the general direction he thought they came from. As bullets flew, Cane just stood there, looking into the twilight.
“There, over by those Dumpsters,” Cane said, pointing.
“Crazy ass--” Tico pointed his gun in the direction Cane pointed and fired. Cane got back into the car on the driver's side. Tico put another clip in his gun, cursing, then fired several shots and hopped in the passenger seat.
Cane started the car and sped off, away from the dead body of Nickel. Shots were fired at them as they drove. Cane knew that they had to get off the island now. The gunplay would be reported to the police, and they would search every car as it went off the Belle Isle Bridge.
Cane pulled the car safely onto the island's bridge. Tico was sweating and looking at Cane angrily.
“You know what?” said Tico. “You are crazy.”
23
The Lexington
Jesse avoided the media circus that surrounded St. Paul's Hospital, an old facility on Detroit's east side. He had allowed Ramona Blake to be placed in the building's security wing. He was on his way there to meet Ms. Blake.
Ramona had claimed indigence, so Karen had taken the case on judicial assignment. There wasn't much money in it, but it was still a high-profile case.
Jesse and Marcia Daniels, another black prosecutor, walked into the building through the rear entrance of the hospital. Workers loaded food and laundry on a platform while a fat guard half watched them. An officer had been assigned to let Jesse and Marcia in. The officer walked them into the lobby, and they headed for the elevator.
Marcia was a “book lawyer.” She was competent in the courtroom, but her real skill was in legal interpretation, an area where Jesse was deficient. Marcia had committed the evidence rules to memory. And as every lawyer knew, evidence was the real battleground of trying criminal cases.
“Damn reporters, they make my ass hurt,” said Marcia as they stepped in an elevator car. “Yeah,” said Jesse. “This case is still hot, even though we don't have Louise Yancy.”
“So, you think Ms. Bell will cop a plea for her client?”
“Karen Bell has never pleaded a client to my knowledge,” said Jesse.
“I can believe it,” said Marcia. “She's kicked my butt on several occasions, most recently an armed robbery last month.”
“Well, this is my first time against her,” Jesse said.
“She's never lost a murder case, you know.”
“And neither have I,” said Jesse defiantly.
“Oh, this is going to be real nasty,” Marcia said. She laughed.
The two stepped off the elevator on the seventh floor. Jesse immediately noticed the cops guarding the wing. He and Marcia showed their IDs and were escorted into a room.
Inside, Ramona sat with Karen Bell and Ira Hoffman. Ramona was wearing a prison jumpsuit. Her braids hung over her shoulders. She had some bruising on her face, but Jesse was still awed by her beauty. She was even more striking than Karen.
“That's a murderer?” Marcia whispered to Jesse. “Looks like a goddamned fashion model.”
Karen was talking with Ira and turned to face them. “Come on in, Jesse,” said Karen.
The prosecutors walked over to a small table that had been set up in the room. Ramona looked suspiciously at Jesse as he approached. Her face was cold and angry.
“Good to see you again, Marcia,” Karen said.
“Wish I could say the same,” Marcia said. She and Karen laughed.
Jesse heard a muffled thumping sound. He looked toward a wall in the room. “What the hell was that?”
“Elevator,” said Ira. “This hospital is very old. It used to be the Lexington Hotel back in the fifties. The old service elevators still run inside the walls here.”
“Sounds like this place is falling apart,” said Marcia.
“Man, the Lex used to be hot,” said Ira wistfully. “Had a mean jazz band, Duke Brown and the Starlights. I used to come here after trials to celebrate...” He trailed off. “Excuse me, I'm getting old. An I have are my memories.” He laughed a little.
“Let's get down to business,” said Jesse.
“I didn't do it,” said Ramona.
“Ramona, please,” said Karen.
“I don't like all this meeting shit,” said Ramona. “I just wanna get out of this.”
“It takes time,” said Karen. “I thought we agreed to that, remember?”
“I didn't come all the way down here for this,” said Jesse. “Do you want to deal or not?”
“No, we don't want a deal,” said Karen.
“Then why are you wasting my time?” Jesse asked.
Karen sighed. “Actually I don't know.” She looked at Ramona, who nodded in reply. “My client feels she's in danger.”
“Only as far as the law is concerned,” said Jesse, starting to get annoyed.
“It's more than that,” said Ira Hoffman. “She feels that if she tells what she knows, she will be killed.”
“Should I pull out my tape recorder for her statement?” Marcia said.
“My client hasn't told us what the story is yet,” said Karen.
“
Why not?” said Jesse. “It's all privileged.”
“Apparently she doesn't trust us either,” said Ira.
“Damn straight I don't,” said Ramona. She rubbed a bruise on her cheek.
Ramona stared at Jesse, searching his eyes. Jesse was confused but did not look away.
“And she wanted to meet you first, Jesse,” said Karen. “I told her that I know you and we can trust you on this.”
Jesse was surprised by what he saw in Karen's eyes. There was sincerity in them, but that was not what startled him. He saw fear.
“I'm flattered,” he said. “But you're still wasting my time. We can place her at the scene. So unless she can give us a name--”
“It's not that simple,” said Karen. “At least I don't think it is.”
“Look,” said Jesse, “if there's a story to tell, let's hear it. I'm sure our office will take the entire situation into consideration before it decides what action will be taken.”
Karen turned to Ramona who kept staring at Jesse. Then she stopped and focused on Karen. Jesse was embarrassed. He was excited by the sight of the two beautiful women so close together. He saw Ira looking nervous too.
“What do you say, Ramona?” asked Karen.
“I'm not talking to him,” said Ramona. “He's full of shit.”
“Ramona!” Karen said. Ira Hoffman sighed heavily.
“That's it. I'm out,” said Jesse, shooting Ramona a steely look. “I only did this out of respect for you two.”
“She didn't mean that, Jesse,” said Karen. “I apologize for her.”
“Save it,” said Marcia. “This is all the cooperation you'll get from us.”
“I see the white man still likes his niggas loyal and dumb,” said Ramona.
“Hey,” said Jesse, “I didn't come here to take crap from a--” He caught himself. “Karen, Ira, from now on we meet only on official terms.”
Jesse and Marcia walked out into the hallway. They heard Karen cursing behind them. They started back to the office.
“What the hell was that?” asked Marcia.
“I'm not sure,” said Jesse. “But I know Karen pretty well--”
“So I've heard,” Marcia said too quickly.
“Yes, everyone has,” said Jesse. “I don't know what they're up to, but one thing's for sure, Karen was scared back in there.”
“She did seem a little apprehensive,” said Marcia.
“I think she knows something already,” said Jesse. “And whatever it is, we should know it too. Let's call on Florence. She should have something by now.”
Jesse left the old hospital a little worried about his ex-flame. Karen was a hard woman, and it would take a lot to frighten her.
“That girl was sizing you up, Jesse,” said Marcia.
“I know. Apparently, she didn't like what she saw.”
“I was thinking more like she hated you.”
“A defendant hates me. So what else is new?”
The October wind had a chill in it as they stepped outside. Jesse got into his car and headed for Frank Murphy. Even with Louise Yancy out of the picture, he was still puzzled by the case. Ramona Blake was an idiot, but she didn't seem like a cold-blooded killer. If she knew anything about the murder, she was obviously not going to give it up. He reasoned that whatever she knew, she would have a lot of time to think about it after he put her ass in the penitentiary.
24
Things That Cities Do
“Opal” yelled the waiter and the diners as the former put a lighter to the saganaki. The Greek kasseri cheese was set on fire, and the yellow flame shot into the air.
Florence was drinking heavily, scotch and soda, her favorite. Jesse sat with her in a booth at Pegasus, a restaurant in Greektown. The place was crowded for lunch. The smell of onions and lamb permeated the air. Jesse just stared at the sandwich he'd ordered, waiting for Florence to tell him what she'd uncovered.
“I need to get back to my case. What do you have for me?”
“Wait a fuckin' minute,” said Florence. “Gimme a chance to unwind here. I had a hard coupla days.”
“Sorry, it's just that the case was dropped in my lap by D’Estenne, the media is all over me, and the defendant told me to go fuck myself yesterday.”
“Really?” said Florence. “I like her.” She emptied her glass, signaled for another, then took a big breath. “Well, on the case, all the witnesses check out; they're mostly cops who knew the mayor was banging this chick. Her other trampy friends are probably gonna rat on her too. The defense ain't got nothing up her sleeve. Although I imagine you're interested in what's up her other garments.”
“No need for that shit, Florence,” said Jesse.
“You cursing? Man, you are stressed. Anyway, I checked out the crime scene,” said Florence. “It was pretty tight, just like you said it was, nothing out of the ordinary. That Yancy bastard lived like a king. Nice place, even with the bloodstains. So all in all I think we
got a good case on this babe. We can place her at the scene, and she's got a record.” “That's good to know,” said Jesse. “So, did you ever find my lost cop Walter Nicks?”
“Nope. Man's gone. No one's seen him. I heard a rumor that he had a lady friend in Southfield, but it was a false lead. Don't know where he could be.”
“Question is, Why is he gone?” said Jesse. “Okay, Florence, what about the other things I wanted checked out?” Florence sighed and looked at the ceiling. Jesse stirred with interest. That always meant Florence was on to something big. “Okay, Jesse,” she said. “There's some funky-ass shit gain' on around here.”
“Fill me in.”
“Before I tell you, I want you to promise that you won't do any silly-ass cowboy shit like you did on that Patterson murder last year.”
“Sorry, but I can't promise, Flo,” Jesse said.
“Then I'm sorry too,” said Florence. “And don't call me Flo. What am I, an old woman or some shit?”
“Look,” said Jesse. “All I can promise is that I won't do anything without talking to you first.”
“That's bullshit.” Florence adjusted in her seat. “But I guess I'm feeling like a sucker today. All right, here's the deal, Yancy was formalizing a plan to bring casino gambling to Detroit-- soon. He had the business people behind him, the minister do-gooders and suburbanites on the other side, but he was also dealing with some very bad people.”
“Mafia?”
“Please,” said Florence, taking her drink from a waiter. “Let's not insult our Italian brothers, but yes, that's what I hear. My sources tell me that Yancy took several clandestine meetings with men known to have those kinds of ties.”
“Talli?”
“That was one of them. Also, Yancy supposedly met with that Reverend Junior from the MACs at least three times before he was killed,” said Florence.
“He called him the night he died too,” said Jesse. “Yancy was trying to get them to back off most likely.”
“Yancy also saw that asswipe Crawford a few times. Apparently he was about to fire him.”
“Yancy was always about to fire him,” said Jesse. “What was Yancy's beef with Crawford this time?”
“Same shit, Crawford and his young assholes taking liberties, acting like they were in control. I got a spy over there in his office. I'll be gettin' more as time goes on.” Florence took a deep drink.
“Well, I can't question Crawford, but I can talk with the good reverend again,” said Jesse absently.
“And one more thing,” said Florence. “Your man Yancy was going to back Xavier Peterson in the race for county prosecutor.“
“He was?” Jesse was shocked. “Yancy always backed D’Estenne. I just assumed that he would again.”
“Well, he changed his mind this year. Apparently he wanted a county prosecutor he could control with the casinos coming.”
“Damn,” said Jesse. “Xavier Peterson is a minister. If Yancy supported him, then it would have gotten the MACs off his ass too. So, did D’Esten
ne know about this?”
“I don't know. But I'd bet that he did.”
Jesse looked off for a moment. Louise Yancy was right. There were many reasons to want a mayor out of the way. Mayor Yancy switching to Xavier Peterson was a brilliant political move, but it was also an out-and-out betrayal of D’Estenne.
“I think my office phone is bugged,” said Jesse.
“No shit,” said Florence. “Well, don't call me on that thing if it is. So, what are you gonna do about all this?”
“I'm going to try this case and win it,” said Jesse. “The other stuff is interesting, but Ramona Blake is still the prime suspect. Maybe she knows who did it, or maybe she helped them do it.”
“Don't make sense to me. She's fuckin' Yancy, so she pops him, for what?”
“There could be a lot of reasons; drugs, money, extortion, who knows? I guess I won't know until we get into this thing.”
“Well, I gotta go, Jesse,” said Florence. “You let me know if you need anything else and I'll keep you posted.”
“All right, Florence.”
After she left, Jesse finished his lunch, then returned to the office. He went back to work on the Yancy case. He stopped only once to plea-bargain a second-degree murder case down to manslaughter.
By the time he left work, he still had plenty to do. He was mulling over the case as he walked to the parking lot. It was dark and quiet. The evenings were getting colder. Winter was coming and soon.
Jesse had got to his car when he heard someone walking behind him. He turned and saw a woman coming his way, holding something in her clenched fist. Jesse tensed, straining to get a better look as the woman came closer. Finally he saw her, and it was Karen Bell, holding her car keys and still looking afraid.
“We need to talk,” she said.
They went to Karen's house in Rosedale Park on the northwest side. Jesse had agreed to come along, thinking that Karen might try to seduce him and vowing not to be seduced. But she didn't try anything. She only said she needed to talk to him. Jesse was already formulating a story to tell Connie about where he had been.
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