No More Mr. Nice Guy

by Carl Weber

  “Your Honor, I object! My client has not been convicted,” Goldman interjected.

  Hightower looked satisfied that he’d landed a blow to my character in front of the judge, and he looked over at me like he was trying to send me a message with his smirk. Man, this dude was lucky we were meeting in a courtroom and under these conditions, ’cause anywhere else and his ass would be dead. I did not allow anyone anywhere to disrespect me.

  The judge raised her hand. “Save it, Mr. Goldman. Mr. Hightower, due to the lack of evidence, we can no longer hold Mr. Moss on these charges without a corroborating witness,” she announced without the slightest hint of relief in her voice. “So I’m dismissing the murder charges.”

  I reached out ready to slap palms with Goldman and let him know that a huge bonus would be included in his check.

  “However, Mr. Moss!” Judge McDougall’s harsh tone interrupted me. “While you may look at this as a reason to celebrate, I would not order the welcome home balloons just yet, if I were you. I am going to continue to hold you on the felony marijuana charge for which you failed to appear in 2012.”

  “But, Your Honor, you just said that the charges my client is being held for are dismissed,” Goldman reminded her.

  She ignored him and spoke sternly to me. This broad definitely didn’t like me. “Mr. Moss, you’ve been in and out of my courtroom a dozen times, and yet again, you’re skating on a technicality. While there is nothing I can do about that heavier sentence, you will be held on the felony marijuana charge.”

  “Your Honor, I object,” Goldman said again. “My client has already been behind bars for the past two days, kept away from his son on trumped up charges. I’d like to make a motion for an R.O.R, or at least bail until trial.”

  “Motion denied. Due to his lack of appearance on these charges, I consider Mr. Moss a flight risk.” The judge smiled, and I knew something was wrong. “I can offer Mr. Moss six months or a speedy trial, but we both know how backed up the courts are, don’t we, councilor? Six months might just end up being a year, or perhaps eighteen months.”

  “Your Honor, this is very unorthodox,” my lawyer shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. No doubt he was thinking about the bonus he would no longer be getting.

  The look the judge served Goldman would have destroyed a lesser attorney, but he was used to being threatened, so it didn’t faze him in the least.

  “If I were your client, I would take that deal and not push it. There are a few other charges that can be associated with this case, such as intent to sell and distribution. Do you understand?” Judge McDougall challenged Goldman.

  “Yes, Your Honor. Can I have a moment?” Goldman requested. The judge nodded, and my lawyer turned to me, speaking quietly. “Take the deal. I might be able to win eventually, but she’ll have you waiting on trial for a good fifteen months, and she’s not going to relent on bail.”

  “Well, gentlemen?” the judge interrupted.

  “I could do six months standing on my head,” I bragged before Goldman could say a word. I was feeling real pleased with myself.

  “Well, thankfully for the people of the State of New York, you’re going to do that six months as a ward of the state,” Judge McDougall snapped before banging down the gavel and putting an end to my case.

  “I’m sorry. She seems to have something out for you,” Goldman said as he started gathering up his papers from the table.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone approaching the table, and I turned to see Bruce standing there. I wanted to say “Better late than never, motherfucker,” but he looked so stressed I held my tongue.

  Goldman turned to the bailiff, who was prepared to escort me out of the courtroom and back to the jail in Riverhead.. “Can you give them a moment?”

  The bailiff nodded and took a step back.

  “Where you been, man?” I asked Bruce.

  “I have some bad news,” he said with his eyes cast down toward the floor.

  My stomach dropped. “Nothing happened to my son, did it?”

  “No, no, he’s all right. It’s your brother Rodney.”

  “What about him?”

  “He was shot the other night behind Sugar’s bar.”

  I felt myself getting lightheaded, as if all the oxygen had left the room. “Shot by who? Who killed my brother, Bruce?” My little brother was a fuck-up, but he was my family.

  “I don’t know yet. I was in here with you until last night. I got ten grand on the streets. I’m working on it.”

  “Well, work fucking harder!” I snapped then quickly backed up, remembering who I was talking to. If anyone was on my side, it was Bruce. “Hey, bro, sorry. I’m just pissed.” I lifted my shackled hands.

  “No problem, man,” Bruce replied. “Don’t worry, though. Rodney was like my little brother too. I got this.” I could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant every word.

  “Bailiff, please remove Mr. Moss from the courtroom.” Judge McDougall pointed at me. Next thing I knew, two COs were on either side of me, leading me out of the room. I was overwhelmed with emotion and seriously felt the need to hurt somebody, but I knew that I couldn’t risk getting any more time, so I played it cool.

  “Bruce, I wanna know who killed my brother!” I shouted as the officers pulled me from the room. “Find that motherfucker!”

  Niles

  15

  I opened one eye and listened intently, pretending to be asleep when the door to the interrogation room opened. It had been almost an hour since that bitch Bridget had smugly walked in, trying to persuade me to make a deal with the devil. This time it wasn’t her entering the room, but a six foot tall male cop who should probably leave the donuts alone. He hadn’t come into my sightlines yet, but I could tell his height, gender, and weight by sound of his shoes on the tile floor.

  “Hey, Monroe, naptime’s over.” The black officer was now standing in front of me. He wasn’t wearing a gun, and even handcuffed I could have taken him out within seconds, but I’d decided to wait until they took me outside to transport me before I’d make a break for it. That way fewer innocent people would get hurt. Once free, I’d make my way out of the state and then the country, although I hated the idea of not saying good-bye to my mom and uncle. Or Keisha, for that matter.

  The officer unhooked my handcuffs from the table and led me out the door, down a corridor, and into an office. Detective Fuller was in there, sitting behind a desk. To his right was another white man who carried himself like he was the boss. Both men stared at me with undisguised disdain.

  “I don’t know who you are or what your story is, Monroe, but you can’t go around killing people,” Fuller started. He sounded as frustrated as I felt.

  “Not your problem or your concern, Detective,” Bridget snapped from a chair in front of them.

  What the hell? I thought. She must have been some type of ninja or something, because I hadn’t even noticed her sitting there until she opened her mouth.

  “This is way above your pay grade, and you’re being well compensated to keep your mouth shut.”

  Fuller eyed her, tightening his lips. This guy did not like to be told what to do, but Bridget obviously didn’t give a shit.

  “Can we get rid of those?” She pointed at my wrists, lacing her voice with just enough arrogance for him to get the message that she was in charge.

  Fuller motioned for the officer to take off my handcuffs.

  “I’m going to need that gun. Oh, and any other paperwork related to him or this case.” She smiled, working overtime to taunt him with whatever power she had used to effortlessly free me from his grasp. Not only did she do this all effortlessly, without a hint of hesitation or doubt, but this chick had the nerve to smirk openly at him.

  He looked up at his boss, who nodded his head. Reluctantly, Fuller handed her the gun and a file sitting in front of him. She took them, but not before taking a quick survey of his desk.

  “Is your notebook in here, Detective?”
she questioned. I had to admit that as pissed as I was at her, it felt good to see Fuller being the one worked over for once.

  “Yes, everything is there.” He shot her a look full of hate. If it were legal, he would have punched her in the throat.

  “I don’t need to remind you that no one can know he was ever here, so take a minute if you need to double check.” Bridget leaned against his desk and folded her arms across her chest as if to say she had time to wait. It took everything for me not to burst out laughing as I watched Fuller squirm.

  “Look . . .” He started to protest, but one raised eyebrow from Bridget shut him down.

  “Fingerprints in here?” she asked, motioning to the file.

  He took a deep breath, obviously struggling to calm himself down. “Yes.”

  “And all the files have been fully scrubbed from both the server and the hard drive?” She continued to grill him. Clearly she had done this before. “I’ll have our people go behind you, but I just want to be sure.”

  His boss finally spoke. “Yes. My people know exactly what they’re doing, Ms. St. John.”

  With that, she looked over at me. “Okay, Mr. Monroe, I’d say we’re ready to go.” She strutted past me and out of that office without so much as a single glance backward.

  I couldn’t resist looking back, though, because I was hoping to see a defeated look on that detective’s face. What I saw wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting, but it almost made me laugh out loud. Something had caught his attention, and it was like he had already forgotten about me. He was steady watching Bridget’s ass like he wished he had gotten a chance to interrogate those two round globes to the fullest.

  Click-clack, click-clack!

  I listened to Bridget’s spiked heels hitting the tiles as we marched through the station. Every head swiveled in her direction, and few cops even bothered to disguise their interest. Man, talk about being invisible. Not one person noticed me walking behind her. Every cop, male and female, kept their eyes glued on Bridget until she was out the door.

  Outside, a uniformed driver stood holding the door to a Rolls. She slid into the car, while I stood there gawking like some country bumpkin. This was definitely some next level shit.

  “You waiting for an invitation, Mr. Monroe, or do you plan on walking?” she questioned, sticking her head out the door, which the driver was still holding open for me. I went around to the other door, still somewhat in shock over what this woman had just pulled off.

  I shrugged. “I’m coming.”

  “As you can see, I kept my side of the bargain,” she said as I settled in beside her. “Now, can I count on you to keep yours?”

  “For now,” I answered, still unable to commit to much more than that. The whole night had been too surreal.

  The driver headed toward my house in Wyandanch without any direction from me. I guess she really had no doubt I’d go along with her plan. Yeah, Bridget St. John was clearly used to getting her way and would do whatever it took to make it happen.

  She held up the file she’d gotten from the detective. “You do understand that this file and gun can be given back to the cops at any point.”

  I stared at her, realizing that I may not have a choice, but I did have certain needs she had to address before I would fully commit. “And you need to understand that you promised me more than just my freedom. I want my mother to get the best health care available. I want her out of that facility and in a private one as soon as possible,” I said, laying down the first of my demands.

  She snatched her iPad out of her bag and typed something onto it. “Handled. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Explain to me how all this works again, and more importantly, how I’m going to be paid for doing your dirty work.”

  This little Q and A didn’t seem to faze her at all. On the contrary, she seemed impressed.

  “You will work exclusively for me, and your job description is whatever the fuck I say it is, until I deem you ready to go out in the field alone. You will be given a particular dollar amount for every assignment you complete. I would expect that if you listen to me, by the end of the year you’re going to be a very wealthy man, Mr. Monroe.”

  The driver pulled up in front of my house, and I could see the neighbors gawking already. Willie was standing on the steps.

  “I guess that’s a small price to pay for selling my soul to the devil.”

  “So is that what I am? The devil?” She smiled.

  “Something like that.” I stepped out of the car.

  She rolled down the window as I strode up the walkway toward the house. “We start work Monday morning. I’ll pick you up at seven a.m. sharp. We have a lot of work to do, so don’t keep me waiting.”

  Keisha

  16

  I was in the midst of frying some chicken for dinner when I heard the doorbell. I let my mother get it, because I was sure it wasn’t anybody important. Actually, my hope was that it was Tanya with some news from Willie about Niles. As much as I had tried, I could not get him or the fact that he’d been arrested for murder out of my head.

  I turned to see Tanya standing at the entrance to my kitchen, looking mortified.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, wishing my nosy-ass mother would go somewhere, instead of standing behind Tanya like Inspector Gadget.

  Tanya took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say was painful. “You’re never going to believe this, but Rodney’s dead, and so are his two friends.” I knew she wanted to say more, but she glanced over at my mother, who was hanging on her every word. When our eyes locked, words were not needed, because I was sure we were both thinking the same damn thing: Niles killed them.

  “No. Not Majestic’s brother Rodney!” my mother cried out in disbelief. “Stop lyin’!”

  Tanya just rolled her eyes in my mother’s direction, shaking her head. We had been friends a long time, and she knew my mother was a real piece of work. “Anyway, like I was saying, Rodney and his two friends are dead.”

  “You sure?” I asked, not wanting it to be true.

  “Sure as I’m standing here,” Tanya replied, going in my fridge to grab a child-size Sunny D. She opened it and put the plastic container to her lips. “His baby mama Tisha’s out there on the block, whooping and hollering like they was married.”

  I wasn’t Rodney’s biggest fan, and he sure had pissed me off at Sugar’s, but I didn’t want anything like this to happen to him. “Have you spoken to Willie?”

  “Nah. He’s supposed to call me tonight.”

  The doorbell rang again, so I took the opportunity to get a moment alone to pick Tanya’s brain. “Ma, can you get that?”

  As soon as my mother was out of sight, I walked up on Tanya, my nerves on high alert. “You think he did it?” I whispered harshly.

  Tanya nodded her head slowly. “They found their bodies behind Sugar’s. Who else could it be?”

  I returned to my frying chicken. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to think about him that way. He doesn’t seem like a murderer.”

  Tanya looked at me like I had two heads. “Exactly what does a murderer look like?”

  “Majestic,” I snapped back quickly.

  We laughed halfheartedly, enjoying the momentary break in the tension.

  Suddenly, we heard my mother yelling at someone. “Who the hell are you?”

  Tanya and I rushed from the kitchen.

  “Whatever you’re selling, we ain’t buying,” Ma ranted.

  I hurried down the hall to find Niles standing in the doorway with a bouquet of red roses clutched in his hands. I turned toward, Tanya who gave me an encouraging smile.

  “Ma!” I yelled.

  “What?” She whipped her head around and sneered at me. “I’m just trying to make sure this boy understands that you got a man.”

  I rolled my eyes, wanting to strangle her right then and there. “I don’t have a man. I’m single and you know it.”

  “Um, I sure hope your man knows that,” she sh
ot back, always needing to get the last word.

  “Debra, why don’t you and me go check on that chicken?” Tanya grabbed my mother by the arm and tugged. “C’mon.”

  As my friend helped me get rid of my mother, Niles stood there patiently. He looked damn fine, even better than I remembered, and once my mother was finally out of earshot, I moved closer to him.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” I said, enjoying the heat of his body next to mine. “I was worried about you.”

  “Sorry about that. But I swear, Keisha, I didn’t have anything to do with those murders.”

  “I believe you,” I told him. “I don’t think you’d be standing in front of me if the police believed that you did.”

  He pointed out the door. “Can we go for a walk and talk?”

  “Sure,” I answered, glad to get away from my mother and her wrath. She drove me crazy with her commitment to Majestic, no matter how much janky shit he did to me.

  Niles reached out and took my hand as we headed down the street. “I’m sorry I didn’t come straight here once they released me, but I was so tired I had to get some sleep.” He looked at me with intensity, as if he needed to know that I was listening. Once he knew he had my full attention, he continued. “I also wanted to tell you in person that I didn’t have anything to do with Rodney and his friends getting killed.”

  “Okay. You already said that,” I answered, not sure why he felt the need to repeat himself.

  He laughed nervously. “Keisha, I like you.”

  “The only thing I’m asking is for you to keep it real with me.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. That’s why I’m here.” He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, giving me the sweetest look that did a lot to thaw my resistance.

  We walked a little bit in silence, and then I stopped at the corner. It took him a moment to realize that I was no longer next to him, but when he noticed, he doubled back and joined me.

  “Um, you’re standing here why?” he asked just as the yellow school bus pulled to the curb in front of us. When the doors opened, MJ came flying out.