Grind City

by Gary Hardwick

  “Don’t believe you did that,” said Kelvin. “A church, man.”

  “I was pissed off,” said Renardo. “Man challenged me. What could I do?”

  “Step off,” said Kelvin. “You coulda stepped off. News say, that reverend had a heart attack and died. That’s murder.”

  “Well, it be that way in the city. He knew the game. He had no business playing.”

  “Look, I ain’t no religious man but—“

  “Then shut the fuck up,” said Renardo. “You ain’t got no thing on me. You do shit, too.”

  “I’m just sayin’ kidnapping and now murder. You fell off your promise. You back to what you used to be.”

  Renardo stopped playing the card game and looked at his friend. He was mad and that was just part of it.

  “So what?” Renardo began. “Maybe this is who I am. My folks was decent, so I can’t claim no hard life as a kid. I never went to the joint all the time I was slinging dope. Never got caught. I had plenty of time to get out but I didn’t. I liked the life. I ain’t got no boss, don’t punch no clock and I get out what I put in. So if I put in kidnapping that bitch and murder, then maybe that’s the price of a good life.”

  “Sorry but that don’t make no sense,” said Kelvin.

  “What do you know about sense?” asked Renardo laughing. “You tried to hook up with a man.”

  “She ain’t no man,” said Kelvin.

  “She got a dick, fool. Even if she gets it chopped off, it’s still a man you fuckin.’”

  “You prejudiced,” said Kelvin.

  “No, I’m a man,” said Renardo. “I don't know what you are.”

  “I’m me and who I do it with ain’t none of yo business.” Kelvin looked away from his boss as he said this.

  “Hold up,” said Renardo noticing. “Did you… You been fucking around with that he/she, Impala?”

  “None of yo business what I do off the clock, nigga.”

  “Everything you do is my business,” said Renardo. “Did you suck his dick or did he fuck you in the ass with his lady cock?”

  “Fuck off,” said Kelvin. “At least I ain’t going to hell for shooting a preacher.”

  “No, you goin’ for sucking dick. Keep away from that thing. I don’t want that on my rep. I don’t roll with fags.”

  “I ain’t no fag!” said Kelvin. He jumped up, grabbing his gun.

  “Ain’t this a bitch,” said Renardo. “You better put that gun—“

  A loud engine revved outside. In the instant, Renardo thought it must have creeped up with the lights off. A second later, a truck crashed through the boarded up front doors of the place.

  **********

  I pulled both guns and kicked open the back door. As I waded in, I saw two men get out of the Range Rover. One of them was Bill Wiznewski, an original suspect. That answered that question. The other man, I didn’t know.

  The two men who had been arguing, had grabbed their guns and were raising them.

  “Police!” I yelled without even thinking about it.

  There was a second of confusion. In that instant, I fired the .45 at Wiznewski as he was the most dangerous. I hit him in the side and he fired his gun, missing me by a wide margin. He dropped the gun as he hit the ground.

  I fired the Glock at the same time but it missed the two men who had been arguing. It didn’t matter, because of one of them shot the other in the gut.

  The man who had gotten out of the Range Rover with Wiznewski yelled “Fuck me!” then ran out of the building.

  I’d swung to my right as the arguing man who’d shot his friend fired at me just as I shot at him.

  His shot hit me and knocked me off my feet. I shot at him with both guns and hit him in the chest and head. Couldn’t tell you which gun fired which shot.

  Wiznewski got to his feet and moved back toward the Range Rover.

  I hit the ground hard, the flack jacket I wore stopped the bullet but it hurt like shit. I got up and raised my guns, which I was shocked I had not dropped.

  “Stop!” I managed to say to Wiznewski as I moved forward.

  Wiznewski stopped moving. I moved over to him, while watching the other two fallen men. I kicked his gun away and removed the one I knew he was carrying in a leg holster. There was blood everywhere and Wiznewski was groaning.

  “Move and I put one in your goddamned head,” I said.

  I went over to the other men. One was alive, the one I’d shot was gone. The dead man was dressed in a suit and tie. The one still alive just held his wound and cried.

  “Call an ambulance!” said Kelvin, breathing hard. “I’m hit, man!”

  “Where is she?” I demanded.

  “In that room back there,” said Kelvin breathing hard.

  “She alive?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t have nothing to do with that. That was all on Renardo.”

  I collected their guns and waited. If I left, one of them might run off. The woman was still alive and she'd keep while the cops came.

  I went to Wiznewski and put pressure on his wound. I didn’t want to lose him. He had the most sorrowful look on his face I had ever seen.

  “Big, bad Danny Cavanaugh,” he said through his pain.

  “Don’t talk,” I said.

  “Do me a favor, put one right here in my head,” said Wiznewski.

  “Can’t do that,” I said. “Just hold on.”

  “All of this,” said Wiznewski, “is God’s Will.”

  The police came in minutes later. One of them had Thom Ross. He was crying saying, his wife had been kidnapped and he had tried to save her.

  The paramedics stabilized Bill Wiznewski and the man named Kelvin. Renardo Peoples was dead.

  Kelvin, who had not stopped confessing, kept saying that it was divine retribution, that Renardo had killed a reverend.

  I had a fractured rib from the gunshot and the doc got me wrapped up good. I knew Vinny was going to be pissed, but I was okay and so I was glad for that.

  We collected Dr. Sandra Bell-Ross who was just fine. She was hungry, cramped and smelled pretty bad but she was alive.

  The husband was hugging her and confessing love but I wasn’t buying it. He had rolled in with my killer and that meant he was involved. I had him arrested and he yelled all the way to the precinct.

  I walked over to Dr. Bell-Ross whose hair was matted and makeup smudged on her face.

  “Thank you, detective,” she said.

  “No problem, ma’am,” I said. “I’m afraid your husband is not clean in this.”

  “Yes,” she said. “None of us are.”

  22

  DYNASTY

  Kelvin Walker told his side of the story and was trying to get on TV. He blamed everything on his boss, who he said had forced him to take the doctor. With his criminal record, no one was buying it. He’d be doing at least ten years because even if he was telling the truth, he violated his probation and assisted in other crimes.

  Jimmy got a reward from the Bell Family Trust and I was surprised when he offered to give me a cut. I declined and I told him to give it to Impala. I figured she needed it. Jimmy promised he would. I didn’t really like Jimmy but he did have a code, and so I had a new contact on the street.

  Delores Ranier was in rehab and doing well. She said she hated my father but he was the best sponsor she’d ever had.

  Thom Ross was in police custody and would not be making bail as he was a flight risk. He denied it, but we knew he was working with Wiznewski.

  Dr. Bell-Ross wasn’t talking. She was now surrounded by an army of lawyers and had gone into hiding after paying Jimmy his reward. As far as we knew, she was not talking to her husband.

  The prosecutor had made the connection to Wiznewski’s half-sister but she was not talking either. If people had learned only one thing from watching cop shows, they knew they didn’t have to talk.

  Bill Wiznewski was the key to all of this. He was physically restrained and was under suicide watch, so there was a nurse and a pol
ice officer in his room and another officer in the hall.

  His wife would not talk to him and we learned from her that they were about to get a divorce. Six kids on a cop’s salary. That explained a lot.

  Unlike the others, Wiznewski had refused to be represented by an attorney. The POA reps, Hunnington, Backus and many others had come to him and he spurned them all. “God is my counselor,” was all he would say.

  He did talk with Father Carrin from St. Joseph’s and Bishop McCullen but neither one could persuade him to lawyer up.

  Wiznewski’s only statements were confessions to the murders. Other than that, he was silent and the police and the public felt that the secret, whatever it was, would go to the grave with him.

  And then he did something no one saw coming, he asked to talk to me.

  I went to see him as fast as I could. I wanted to know the story because we all needed some closure on this and I knew the system could let Thom Ross slip through if we weren’t careful.

  Wiznewski’s face was that of a man lost to himself. It was like no one was in there. I was next to him by his IV across from an officer who stood at attention by the window.

  “The priests told me to do this,” said Wiznewski.

  “Father Carrin asked you to call me?” I asked.

  “They didn’t mention you by name, they just said tell your truth to someone you can trust. You’re a cop and a Catholic. I see you drop your old man off at Mass sometimes.”

  I just nodded. I had shot and arrested Wiznewski and was ready to kill him if I had to. In a funny way, I could see his point.

  “Then tell me why you killed them,” I said.

  “I did what God wanted me to,” he said, “that’s the thing.”

  He went silent on me and I could sense that he was having second thoughts. Whatever he was holding, was heavy. I decided to push a little.

  “Why would you care about that kid?” I asked. “It was innocent and so was my sister in law.”

  “I did everything right!” said Wiznewski angrily.

  The cop in the room turned to us and I waved him off.

  “I served my country, two tours,” Wiznewski continued. “I married my high school sweetheart. I was fruitful and we multiplied. I honored God and his laws and look what it got me. We barely make it in my house and then my wife decides after six kids that she wants to leave me for some guy because he makes a few more dollars. That guy’s family left him and so he just takes mine. Money. That’s all people care about.”

  I didn’t say anything to get him back on track. I didn’t want him to clam up on me. He obviously had some things on his mind.

  “You may as well leave,” said Wiznewski. “This was not a good idea.”

  “If you’re thinking about your sister,” I said, “this won’t help her. We know she was married to Dr. Bell-Ross’ brother. We’d never made the police connection because she doesn’t use your last name. She’s not talking but it’s just a matter of time before Thom Ross breaks and throws you all under the bus. The prosecutor will cut a deal with the first person who does. You know the drill.”

  Wiznewski sat up sharply in bed. “Janet had nothing to do with this,” he said.

  “I can believe that,” I said. “But I’m not the prosecutor.”

  Wiznewski took in a deep breath and thought a moment. He didn’t have any leverage. Jesse King had released the other cops, except Dobbs Harson. Jamilla Cole was even reinstated quietly, pending lesser charges.

  “I want to talk to my sister,” he said.

  Since Wiznewski was not represented by a lawyer, I arranged the call. I watched as tears welled in his eyes while he listened to his sister confirm what I had just told him. He said goodbye and handed me back my phone.

  He just sat there for a while and I felt like he wanted to check out if he could. I was beginning to think it was all over, when he spoke:

  “The trust,” said Wiznewski. “That damned trust cut out my sister when Evan Bell died. Then it was going to cut out Thom Ross if Dr. Ross had a baby. But Thom and Dr. Ross both had reproductive problems and Thom didn’t want the damned baby. He wanted the money. My sister couldn’t get pregnant. Goddamned ovaries were busted up, probably happened when she was a teenager. She was in a bad car accident.”

  “Why didn’t Dr. Ross just adopt?” I asked

  “The baby had to be natural,” said Wiznewski. “Blue blood, rich people shit.”

  “Then whose baby is it?” I asked. “We know it’s not Dobbs Harson’s or Ivory’s. Is Thom Ross the father?”

  “You ain’t nearly as smart as people say,” Wiznewski laughed darkly. “Don’t you see it? It was Sandra and her brother Evan’s baby.”

  I almost told him to stop fucking with me but his face was as serious as anything I’d ever seen. He was not lying.

  This is why Dr. Bell-Ross was not talking. She had probably pumped herself with fertility drugs, then fertilized her own egg with her brother’s sperm after his death and implanted it in Ivory. I bet that when we checked, we’d find that Evan Bell had sperm frozen when trying to get his wife pregnant.

  In Dr. Bell-Ross’ mind, the baby her husband would not give her and the one her brother would never have would be born and inherit the dynasty trust and she would forever be bonded to Evan.

  No legit doctor would do this and so Dr. Ross had done it herself, probably with the help of another physician or two who she paid handsomely.

  “Evan and Dr. Ross were close growing up, so close people thought it was creepy,” said Wiznewski. “The father beat the hell out of them and the mother looked the other way and that bonded them.”

  “Were they sleeping together?” I asked.

  “Who knows,” said Wiznewski, “but it was as close as you could get the way I hear it. When Sandra married someone from the other side of the tracks, so did Evan. See what I mean?”

  “How did Thom Ross know it wasn’t his baby?”

  “He thought it was at first. Dr. Ross lied to him, saying she had drugged him and stolen his sperm. See, she planned to pass it off as his kid in the end, but when Evan died, he confessed to my sister on his deathbed, then she told me and Thom.”

  “So Thom Ross agreed to give you and your sister money if you got rid of the baby,” I said.

  “He was already giving me money now and then to help. But the trust money would solve all of our problems. But Janet didn’t know any of this. This was all between me and Thom.”

  “So Thom had you get rid of the heir and then you’d kill his wife after you somehow broke that trust,” I said. I was not asking. This had to be the end game.

  “Yes,” said Wiznewski. “I was a cop and a soldier. Killing would come easy for me, the way he saw it. He was wrong about that.”

  “Didn’t Dr. Ross catch on when Ivory was killed?” I asked. I was trying to see if Dr. Ross was somehow involved in the cover up.

  “She might have been suspicious,” said Wiznewski. “But Thom was still acting like it was their baby and then she thought Dobbs Harson did it like everyone else. And me? That woman doesn’t even know I exist. Anyway, what was she going to do? Tell the police it was her incest baby?”

  “And so, I guess it was you who disabled the cameras at the 11th that night,” I said.

  “I saw the girl’s car pass the station,” he began. “I’d been following her and so I knew who she was. I disabled the surveillance system at the junction box. That also disabled the cell door where I put her. She met Dobbs near that rear cell in a bathroom. They argued. Dobbs walked out. When she came out, I grabbed her… She fought, but I kept telling myself she was carrying an abomination in her belly.”

  Wiznewski’s face had an almost insane look on it now as he relived it. I was numb. I had seen some pretty dark things in my career, but this took them all.

  “That girl,” said Wiznewski, “I didn’t kill much. She was no good, a little whore, a sinner.”

  Before I could think, my hand shot out and grabbed his throat and
squeezed. Wiznewski didn’t fight me. I saw eagerness in his eyes.

  The officer in the room took a step towards me, his hand on his sidearm.

  “Sir, you have to let him go!” he said urgently.

  I released him and backed away from the bed.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just…”

  “Go on,” said Wiznewski still choking a little. “Finish it. No one will blame you.”

  The cop moved next to Wiznewski just to let me know there would be no more mistakes.

  “The girl you killed had nine brothers and sisters,” I said, pointing a finger at Wiznewski. “That’s four more kids than you have. Her parents raised them all while being poor and black and they never had to do the evil shit you did to survive. I don’t wish death on any of your kids as retribution because you’ve already killed your family, you just can’t see it yet.”

  Wiznewski said nothing. He slumped in the bed and started to sob.

  “You should leave now,” said the nurse who had been watching all of the drama. “And you may want to see a doctor before you go. You don’t look so good, officer.”

  I left the hospital and when I stepped outside, the cold air refreshed me as it tingled my face and body. It was like I was waking up from a nightmare. I stood there for a moment, just breathing and then I headed to my car.

  I went over to the prosecutor’s office to tell them what I knew. Thom Ross had already broken by now and confessed all of it implicating Wiznewski and his sister but he had not told the dark story of test tube incest.

  Jesse King was floored by my story and looked visibly shaken. He was bringing cases against Kelvin Walker, Thom Ross, Wiznewski and his sister, Janet Bell. It was going to be a grand slam for him.

  Dr. Ross was the exception. She had not committed any crime, really, but she would have to close her practice when the news came out. She’d probably just disappear into her fortune and move out of the country. The rich people never go to prison, I thought. Never.

  I stood for a moment, looking at the frozen city and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Justice was going to be done and that was always good but there was something else, a sense of renewal that encouraged me. Suddenly, the city didn’t seem so bad or nearly as cold as before.