Cold Flash

by Carrie H. Johnson

  “I was there the other night when they killed the kid and the cop.”

  “In Fairmount Park?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah. They wanted me to kill the kid.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “They said a snitch deserves death. The kid claimed he didn’t talk to the police, that they let him go because they lacked evidence against him, but they wouldn’t hear the boy. The one, War, he beat the boy near to death. Made him kneel. When I refused to do the deed, he made me kneel beside the boy. I thought my life ended right there, that God judged all I’ve done and decided killing me was the best course of action.”

  “Who shot the kid and the cop?”

  “War shot the kid. He’s the boss of the . . .”

  “Berg Nation.” I finished his sentence.

  “Yes. We heard the cops call out and everybody ran. They went for the car and took off. I took off in the opposite direction, thankful that my life had been spared. When I heard more shots, I stopped running and turned around. That’s when I saw the police officer fall. A big man come out of the shadows, but I could not see his face. I called it in to the police and kept on running until I got to the street and hitched a ride.”

  “So you haven’t called Dulcey or been back to the boat because you’re afraid they’ll find out about her? How the hell did you know she was here?”

  “I was talking with Dulcey on the phone when she started feeling bad. I called the ambulance and came right here. I tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail.” He hesitated before continuing. “I figured they knew about the boat after you told me about the break-in. I figured it best to stay different places, hotels, motels, rooming houses.”

  “So the dead guy who destroyed your place yet again, is off your radar?” I pulled out my phone and showed him a picture of the dead guy.

  Hamp scanned the picture and put it aside way too fast for me to think he’d tell the truth and nothing but the truth. “Dammit, Hampton, if you lie to me again, I swear I’ll . . .”

  “I don’t know who he is, Muriel. There have been many break-ins in the past weeks, kids looking for valuables, cash, for a fix. Nowadays, nothing is off-limits. Nothing at all.”

  “Yeah, except someone shot this intruder in the head.” His startled expression said the news sank in. “Word is there’s a contract out on you.”

  A surprised expression flashed across his face.

  “I’m considering somebody thought your intruder was you.”

  He got up and paced back and forth from the couch to the door. “Something else. When little Rose got hurt, they wanted me. They were sending a message.” He hesitated, I supposed waiting for me to respond. “I only tried to make a few dollars. But I’m not using. I borrowed some money is all.” He stopped in front of me. “It’s years since I been mixed up in the game. I would never hurt Dulcey or put her or any of you in danger.” He walked back to the door and looked out the vertical strip of glass embedded in the door facing the hallway, then came back to the couch and sat down. “And now she is fighting for her life. I should be fighting.”

  “I agree. Apparently God has other plans for your black ass.”

  “Muriel, you should cut Hampton some slack. He made a mistake. We all make mistakes.” Nareece was speaking.

  The doctor came in and saved us. He said Dulcey’s low white blood cell count resulted in her contracting a serious infection. They were keeping her a few days and treating her intravenously with antibiotics. She was sleeping and a nurse would retrieve us after settling her in a room.

  After the doctor left, Hamp crumpled to the floor. I let him blubber for a moment.

  “So you’re not sure whether they know about the boat or where you live, or about Dulcey?”

  “I know they want me dead. I witnessed the murder. I’m pretty sure if they find me, I’m dead.”

  “You’ll have to testify,” I said. “It may be the only way out of this. Witness protection.”

  He nodded.

  I went out to the hallway to call Travis, who I knew would be worried about Dulcey’s condition. I stood off to the side and pulled my cell from the clip on my hip. I punched in the code to open the phone and pressed Travis’s name. When I put the phone to my ear and looked up, Ward Griffin and two other men crowded the hallway.

  CHAPTER 18

  I clicked off as Travis answered.

  Griffin, flanked by two of his soldiers keeping pace in a military-like march, stopped at the nurses’ station before he sauntered down the hall. He stopped when he noticed me, and took a menacing stance, like a bull. A smirk darkened his face. He held my gaze for a few seconds before letting his eyes roam over my body, licking his lips and shifting his stance from one foot to another.

  As cocky as he was, I blinked, and his mockery stopped. A scowl replaced his crooked smile. He reached his arm out and pushed open the stairway door, turned on his heels and left, his soldiers on his tail.

  Calvin’s hand on my shoulder explained his action.

  I turned around and hugged Calvin until my nerves settled. Then I hugged him just because . . . because I couldn’t get enough of the feeling I experienced every time he wrapped his arms around me. It stormed my heart, leaving me breathless and wanting him . . . again. I released my hold and took a step back.

  Calvin stepped to the window and looked out. “I knew my man Hamp would make an appearance to see his woman. I also know that Griffin and his gang of idiots would be on his ass if they even got a whiff of him. Knowing how broken up he is, I had to figure in a carelessness quotient.” He came back to me and pulled me in for another hug. I relented.

  I looked up at him. “A carelessness quotient, huh? Thank God for that.”

  “We need to get my man in some protective custody. They may not know why he’s here; they may even think there’s something wrong with him. But it’s for sure they will not be leaving the vicinity without putting eyes on this place. This is probably the safest place for him right now. I’m going to get a room change and we’ll keep watch for the night.”

  I was in Zoila’s office first thing the next morning. She hung up her phone and leaned forward on her desk. “Girl, what’s the big urgency?”

  “Suppose I can present a witness to the killings in Fairmount Park.”

  “This person witnessed the shooting of the kid and the officer?”

  “He witnessed the shooting of the kid. He cannot say with certainty who shot the officer, but he can say who the occupants of the car on the bridge were when the officer got shot.”

  “And he’s willing to testify in open court?”

  “Yes. But would need protection until testifying and possibly witness protection after. I’m not sure the witness wants protection.”

  “I’m guessing here, but will it take down Ward Griffin?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll listen. Who’s the witness and where is he or she now?”

  “A friend, Hampton Dangervil.”

  “Bring Mr. Dangervil in to make a statement about his involvement. We’ll talk protection after he makes a statement.”

  “Look, Zoila, he’s a good guy. He wants his life back. His wife is sick and he wants to care for her without being hassled or killed for some gambling debts.”

  “Why didn’t he just pay the money back?”

  “At first he couldn’t raise the fifty K. And when he could, they wouldn’t take it because they wanted to hold him by the throat.”

  “Don’t worry, I got you covered,” she said with an offhanded smile. She got up and put out her hand. “I owe you. Remember?”

  No, I did not. It must have showed on my face.

  “I wouldn’t have made it through the academy without you,” she said.

  “Oh please,” I said, brushing off her comment. “We wouldn’t have made it through without each other.”

  When I left Zoila’s office and got in my car, I called the hospital to check on Dulcey and fill Hamp in about the meeting. Hamp said they had given Dulcey someth
ing to make her sleep because she’d had a bad night.

  “She’s weak but doing better than the doctor expected. I’m not sure how much longer we can stay here,” he said. “I mean I appreciate Calvin and his guys guarding the room and all, but I am not sure it will be enough to keep the crazy sonofabitch away.”

  “Look, Hamp. The hospital is the safest place you can be for right now. Calvin will be back with BJ to take you out of there and get you to Burgan’s office to give your statement.”

  “I’m not feeling it, Muriel.”

  Muriel. Nobody ever calls me by my name. Makes alarms go off.

  “You having doubts about testifying?”

  “Not because I’m worried about me, but I’m worried about Dulcey. If they find out she’s connected to me, they’ll go after her. I witnessed a murder, M. They almost killed me that night too. Maybe I should be dead.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to Dulcey or you. Trust me.” I told Hamp about Kenyetta’s funeral that afternoon and that I would return to the hospital after.

  When we hung up, I dialed Calvin’s number.

  He picked up on the first ring. “I was about to call you. Where are you?”

  “I came from talking to Burgan about Hamp testifying and getting protection.”

  “I need a minute, so let me call you back. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  When I got to my desk, neither Parker nor Fran were there. I snuck past the lieutenant’s office and slipped into the microscope room, praying he would not decide to come out of his office at the wrong time. Fran and Parker were bent over microscopes.

  Parker looked up from his when I entered. “You do still work here, right?” he chided with a hint of sarcasm.

  “I covered for your behind so many times, Parker.”

  “Well, don’t get all huffy. Making light here,” he said.

  Parker was such a white boy, and a nerdy one. “Who says ‘get all huffy’ or ‘making light’? How many times must I tell you to take a lesson in how to talk? I am not the least bit huffy.”

  Parker snickered. “You’re pissed because they made Fran your partner instead of me.”

  “Well, it won’t happen again, my pet. Next time—” I cleared my throat and mumbled to myself loud enough for him to hear, “Please, Lord, do not let a next time come.” In a louder voice I continued. “I will make sure they do not make the same mistake.”

  “I accept,” he said and went back to peering into his microscope.

  I took a seat at the desk to the right of where Fran worked. He looked up at me, then went back to looking into the microscope. I waited.

  Finally, he looked up and pushed his chair back from the desk. “The semiautomatic they found in the Schuylkill River is the gun that killed that kid and the officer in Fairmount Park. And, it is also the same gun used on your niece.”

  “We find the owner of that gun and we find the shooter.”

  “Yes, but it has no numbers, so without any fingerprints we are not going to find the owner. And even if we suspect someone to be the owner, nothing connects that someone to the gun. So, we got nothing.”

  “There’s a witness.”

  I told Fran about Hampton being the witness and my talk with Zoila to get him and Dulcey into witness protection.

  “My only concern is that Hamp might be exaggerating or somehow not telling the whole truth. I don’t think he’d play his usual games, with Dulcey sick and all. But there is that possibility that he’s lying. It wouldn’t be the first time he lied to save his ass. I don’t think that’s the case this time, though. No reason for it. I don’t think.”

  Parker looked up from the microscope again. “When are you going to learn to let folks deal with what they got coming, especially if they messed their own self up?”

  “Their own self, huh, Parker?” I chuckled. “C’mon, Parker, if one of your siblings or other member of your family or a good friend was in a mess, you’re going to tell me you would let them flounder on their own? I don’t think so. Not sweet, loving Parker. Maybe not so sweet or loving.” We laughed.

  “Not so sweet is right. Depends on what they did and how deep in they are. I’m not about to put my ass on the line for someone who is in the wrong.”

  “You’re telling me you never skirted the law a wee bit for someone you care about when they were in the wrong?”

  “I didn’t say that. But it did not require me putting my behind out there.”

  “If you skirted the law, you put your ass out there, whether you see it or not.”

  “This guy is not your family.”

  “Trust me, he is more my family than many a blood relative of mine.”

  “Boys and girls, can we get some work done up in here?” Fran said.

  CHAPTER 19

  Travis chose a white casket with pink shading and pink crepe interior for Kenyetta. It didn’t matter, since she was going to be cremated. No family member claimed her body, so we took on the task of laying her to rest. Travis planned to spread her ashes on the beach at Sea Girt in New Jersey, where they went on their first getaway.

  Flowers, enough for ten funerals, surrounded the casket. Lilies, roses, mums, carnations, snapdragons. One arrangement said Loving Daughter. Another said Loving Aunt and still another said Loving Sister. Travis and I bought them.

  He said Kenyetta’s eight siblings were scattered who knows where. Kenyetta was the youngest. She had learned through the Department of Human Services that some of her siblings were married with children. She had initiated the process to locate them. She also discovered her father and mother were alive, though homeless, and she had made plans to bring them all together for a reunion.

  The largest arrangement, in the shape of a heart, placed on the far side of the casket, was from Calvin. He was not at the service. He had texted and apologized but said he was still tied up.

  Nareece and the twins, Travis, Elijah, Fran, a few of Travis’s basketball buddies, and three people from the Department of Human Services who worked Kenyetta’s case during her ten years in the system, occupied the first two rows of pews. I did not want the twins to come, but Nareece insisted and Travis supported her. They sat quietly on either side of Nareece with their heads resting on her shoulders.

  Travis and Kenyetta had stuck together since their first meeting in high school. Kenyetta stayed with a foster family. She graduated high school, turned eighteen, and was kicked out of the system and left to fend for herself. Travis helped her find a job and a place of her own in a rooming house. He also helped her get into the Community College of Philadelphia’s nursing program, where she completed her first year.

  The good Reverend Thomas droned on. “Death is not the end of the story for those who love the Lord. Young Kenyetta loved the Lord. The Bible tells us what lies ahead for those who love Jesus. As we come to Second Corinthians, chapter five, we discover wonderful truths that give us hope as we face death with all its dark fears . . .”

  Only three days prior, we attended Sam’s funeral at African Methodist Episcopal Church on Sixth Street. Rev. Kasonga preached Sam’s eulogy to a packed sanctuary about how Sam was taken away like so many other young people by the demon heroin. “So is the case for so many young people struck down way too soon, by the beast, drugs.”

  Sam’s family and friends gave remarks. A full choir sang praises to the Lord, a major contrast from the few of us who sang praises for Kenyetta—the sound hurtful to the ears but as heartfelt as the magnitude of a full choir.

  After Kenyetta’s service, refreshments were served in the community room located in the basement of the church. It was the first time I saw Travis eat since learning about Kenyetta and Sam’s deaths. Now he was laughing and exchanging banter with his friends, as though this were a recovery session after basketball. When Reverend Thomas approached, the boys quieted for a moment before breaking out in laughter over something the Rev said.

  “Seems like he’ll be fine,” Fran said.

  “Yes, he’s finding
his way.” We both watched the interaction among the boys and Reverend Thomas. “What about all the other young people whose lives are getting mangled and lost behind heroin? Nothing new, and the battle continues. The stuff being distributed now is deadly.”

  “Your son’s friends were not heroin users. Someone drugged them and dumped them.”

  “Someone murdered them just like the other two hundred or more people who have died in the city so far this year because of that junk.” I felt my body temperature rising and pulled off my suit jacket.

  “Yes, and the DEA and the gang unit are doing their thing to get the junk off the streets and put the drug dealers behind bars.” He bumped me with his hip. “It is not our job to go after drug dealers, Miss M.”

  “No, but it is my job to protect my family by any means necessary. A job I have not been doing well and neither have the police. That boy over there, Elijah, he’s trying to make something of himself, and it is not his fault his big brother, his only family, is one of the biggest drug dealers in the city. A murderer. The police, the DEA, and the gang unit can’t do anything about it, at least that’s how it appears, with no witnesses and missing evidence.”

  “They are planning a big bust.”

  “Hmm. And the dying continues.”

  CHAPTER 20

  A week passed since I last swam in the Schuylkill River and the bodies of Kenyetta and Sam surfaced. I almost gave up the idea of completing the triathlon, given everything that had happened. But the running, biking, and swimming workouts gave me calm.

  The tepid temperature did not encourage easy entry into the dark water that matched the murkiness of the drizzly day. The only saving grace was the eighty-degree temperature at six thirty in the a.m. Thank you, Lord.

  My trainer, Marybeth, relegated herself to the rear, since my confidence had elevated and my swimming technique had improved, from flailing my arms to long, even strokes. Her swimming behind rather than alongside me simulated my being a confident swimmer. Not. Still, her being there made me feel more secure. I picked up the pace, keeping a decent distance from the rest of my training group—decent because I could still see them in front of me. When I got out of the water, all my training mates clapped and whooped and hollered. It felt good.