Travis and Nareece’s attention was on me.
Helen returned with a glass half filled with water. She handed it to me and took her place on my other side. I set the glass on the coffee table and put an arm around each one.
“No, Mr. Calvin is not all right.”
“Is he dead?” Helen asked.
“Yes, baby.”
Nareece popped up. “Let’s leave Auntie alone for a little while. C’mon, go upstairs and watch television in your room.”
“You call us if you need us, Auntie.”
I nodded, unable to hold back the flow of tears any longer.
First thing in the morning I drove to Fort Washington where Dulcey and Hamp were holed up. Two cars accompanied us from Fort Washington to FBI headquarters: BJ and another man in front and two other men in back. Dulcey and Hamp rode with me.
“Girl, Calvin opened that center for young folk to help them,” Dulcey said. “His niece died from an overdose of heroin. She got caught up with them gangs too. Her mom found her in the bathroom. So many young people dying from that stuff. Whoever killed Calvin is going to burn in hell.”
Dulcey sat in the front with me. She turned around to face Hamp. “Yeah, and I’m worried, Hampton, you and me could be added to the list of dead folk.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, my sweet,” Hamp cooed.
“Don’t you ‘my sweet’ me. If it weren’t for your ass being out there doing things you ain’t supposed to be doing . . .”
“Dulcey, stop! Please,” I said, sounding harsher than I intended.
We rode in silence the rest of the way to FBI headquarters. Calvin’s men pulled curbside when I made a left into the parking garage below the building. A guard directed me to a parking space toward the back of the garage directly in front of an entrance door.
I turned the car off and took a breath, relieved we had made it without any problems. “Hamp, tell them what happened and who pulled the trigger, like you told me. They will put you both up in a safe house until the trial.”
“I don’t want Dulcey messed up in all this any further. I’ll go to the safe house by myself. You take Dulcey with you.”
Dulcey huffed and rose up in her seat. “I’m going with you,” she said in her deepest baritone voice.
Hamp leaned forward and pressed her shoulder down. “Dulcey, I seldom lay into you. I always let you do what you want to do. Now, you are going to do what I say, and I say you are going to go with Muriel and stay with her while I do this.”
Dulcey put her hand atop Hamp’s. She sucked back tears. “I want to be where you are.”
“Everything’s going to work out fine, baby. Taking care of my mess is my responsibility and I need you to be safe while I’m doing it.”
Dulcey sniffed, backhand-wiped her tears away and nodded. Hampton settled back in his seat again.
This was only the second time I’d witnessed Hamp command Dulcey in any way. The first time, Dulcey said she would not go through chemotherapy or any other treatments for her cancer. She said she put her life in God’s hands. Hampton rose up with another reasoning—that it did not matter what her God said, his God said she was going to have the treatments and come out on the other end more beautiful and stronger than ever. No more argument.
Zoila sat across the table from Hamp. She pushed a microphone closer to him and said, “Please state your name for the record.”
“Hampton Dangervil.”
“Mr. Dangervil . . .”
“Hamp.”
“Hamp, please tell us what happened on the night in question and the events leading up to the night in question.”
Hamp glanced over at me. I nodded.
“I will tell you everything, but I only want to say it with Mabley and you in the room.”
There were two other people in the room—Zoila’s partner, Enrique Santiago, and an FBI investigator, name of Holstrom. Zoila raised a doubting eyebrow at me. I shrugged and gave a nod. She gestured for the two to leave.
“Now, Mr. Dangervil, I have done what you asked.”
“I been clean for going on fourteen years. Have to stay clean or the woman who I love most in the world, I might lose her and I couldn’t live if that happened.
“I came here many years ago and got messed up with drugs. I bought from the father of the man who wants me dead now. I didn’t remember the son, but he couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve back then.
“I did not recognize him when I borrowed the money. I knew from the git-go it was a mistake borrowing money for gambling. Gambling, period. I’d borrowed a small amount before and won big, and paid it back. So I figured I could do the same thing for . . . it doesn’t matter. I lost and could not pay up when the due date rolled up. The amount I owed got to be too much. They said, interest. I asked for another try. So he . . .”
“Who is ‘he,’ Mr. Dangervil? Please use his name.”
“Ward, ‘War,’ Griffin. He told me my debt would be paid in full once I did a favor for him. I been in the streets for a long time. I been off them for a long time too. I guess the disconnect came in when he didn’t tell me right away what kind of payment he expected.”
Hamp reached to the center of the table where a pitcher of water and glasses sat. He poured a glass of water and drank it down in one motion.
“So he, War, picks me up and says we are going for a ride. I get in the car with two of his foot soldiers and the kid sitting in the back.”
“By the kid, do you mean Devon Taylor, street name ‘D’?”
“Yes. I remember thinking what a shame to see this young blood messed up by these guys. I felt ashamed of myself for even being there, letting myself get in such a situation.
“We parked the car in the lot and walked into Fairmount Park. I asked War where we were going. I thought for sure my time to die had come, right in the park. At first my whole body shook. War goes on talking nonstop about what happens when someone’s mouth gets to flapping. I did not get his meaning, so I didn’t pay much attention to his words. I stopped being so anxious about dying. Sadness took hold because I would never see my Dulcey again. Next thing I know he hands me a gun and says, ‘Kill him.’ He meant the kid.
“I have committed many acts I’m not proud of, but killing someone is not one of them. I am not proud of the killing I did in the war. I had a reason then, a purpose, to keep my friends and my country safe. I had no reason to kill the boy, so I asked War why. War said it didn’t matter why, he said so. He says, ‘Danger, just because you’re such an honorable dude, I’ll tell you. This boy here let his lips flap to the po po.’
“The kid, D, ’bout had a fit. He said he did not say anything to the police and the only reason he got out of jail was because he’s a minor and they couldn’t hold him without any evidence of his involvement.
“I said it did not matter what he did, I had no intention of shooting him. I said I did not care if War killed me. War snatched the gun from me and told me to get on my knees, then shot that boy in the head. I thought he’d shoot me too, except we heard the police yell and everybody took off running. I ran in the opposite direction from them, then stopped and hid behind a tree. Two police got to where that boy lay dead then took off running after the others. The police officers shot at the car as it went over the bridge. Then one of the guys in the car got out and shot back, hitting one of the officers. The guy threw the gun in the river, got back in the car, and they drove away.”
Zoila leaned over the table. “Mr. Dangervil, Hamp, will you testify in open court?”
“Yes. As long as you give me some protection until it is done.”
“Hearing first, then open court.”
“Put it in writing,” I added.
CHAPTER 22
The breeze whirled across the gaping hole waiting to receive the gold casket that uniformed soldiers carried from the hearse. The heavy silence was disturbed only by the squeak from a soldier’s boots, accented by a sniffle every few squeaks.
Seemed all the mourners wh
o attended the church service made the trek to Calvin’s gravesite—vets, gang members, local business owners, politicians, law enforcement, and Calvin’s men.
I stood between Fran and Dulcey in the front, anguishing over the thought that the killer might be among us. I looked around as far as I could see with my head raised halfway. Mine seemed the only eyes not closed, the only head not bowed, until my gaze met Zoila’s. She nodded and directed her attention back to the preacher’s prayer.
To my right, Calvin’s sister, Shea, her husband, and two teenage daughters sat huddled together. I’d only met Shea once before when Calvin was in the hospital from a car accident. He stayed in a coma for almost two weeks.
Calvin never spoke about his family. I assumed now, because he was married. In my work, my intuition is spot-on and reliable. Matters of the heart bring on a different characteristic—I become a sniveling fool.
BJ met my gaze. He smiled. My thoughts raced. Big like Mr. C, Elijah had said. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the pastor’s words. Calvin trusted BJ with everything. BJ, his closest friend.
I jumped when the rifles sounded the first of three volleys. Dulcey squeezed my hand. The soldiers finished folding the flag that had draped the casket and presented it to his sister. A bugle began playing taps and I ducked away, unable to maintain control. I rushed down the path, away from the service, sobbing like a lost two-year-old and hard enough to suck the breath from me. I stumbled forward. A hand reached out and steadied me. I looked up to see Laughton. I let myself fall into his embrace.
My body trembled as though a chilled breeze swooped over me on this eighty-five-degree day. Laughton squeezed me tighter. I let him for a minute, before I pulled away.
“Where have you been?” I sputtered, a morsel of spit flying out of my mouth onto his shirt.
“Shh.”
“Shh hell. You disappeared. You dropped out. No explanation. No nothing.” I turned away. “Never mind. This is not the time or place.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”
“Been here for me. What the hell does that mean? Been here for me?”
“Muriel.”
“Oh, so now I’m Muriel. Seventeen years and you never called me Muriel. Now I’m Muriel, and you’re an asshole.”
He grabbed my arms and pulled me to him. I tried to pull away, but he held me tight to his chest as an indescribable pain erupted inside me. He released me, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and handed it to me.
“Well, if it ain’t Mr. Laughton, showing up at the right time, I might add,” Dulcey said as she approached. “I am glad you decided to grace us with your presence.”
“Miss Dulcey.” Laughton reached out to hug Dulcey. He pushed her an arm’s length away to check her out.
“Looking good, Miss Dulcey. A little peaked around the edges.”
“A bit, Mr. Laughton, but nothing that can keep me down for long.” She took both of Laughton’s hands and lifted his arms up slightly to check him out. She shook her head side to side. “You still all up in tall, dark, and handsome, Mr. McNair.” She nodded toward me. “We got the help we need now, girl.” She let go of Laughton’s hands and stepped away. “I’ma wait for you at the car, Miss M.”
When she moved out of earshot, I told Laughton about her breast cancer.
I leaned my back against the tree we were standing under.
“Calvin called me two days ago. Left a message saying he had some trouble and needed help. I got in this morning.”
I froze. Calvin had known Laughton’s whereabouts and how to reach him all this time—and I hadn’t.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Laughton said, sensing my hurt feelings. He reached his arm above my head and leaned in against his palm. “His message said trouble.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Yeah, my first reaction exactly. Not now.”
“Officer Mabley. Muriel.”
Laughton straightened up and stepped back. Shea looked like Calvin with hair and curves.
I stepped forward with outstretched arms. “Shea. I am so sorry,” I murmured. We embraced.
She turned to Laughton. “Well, well. Laughton McNair. It’s been a while.”
“Shea.” He reeled her in for a hug. “I am so sorry about my man. There are no words.”
Shea stepped back and bowed her head. “He . . .” She shook her head side to side in slow motion. “He was a good man.” She faced me, wiping tears away. “Can we talk for a minute?”
We moved down the path, away from Laughton.
“Calvin really did love you, Muriel. He couldn’t find the words or the courage to tell you about Brenda. She’s unaware that he’s gone. Nothing. She exists, period.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
She moved closer to me, angling her body away from the passersby. She reached in her bag and pulled out a letter-size white envelope and gave it to me. I put it in my bag. “Calvin gave it to me a few days ago. He said if anything happened to him, I should give it to you. He was good, into a lot of things, privy to a lot of things about all different kinds of people. Whatever is in that envelope, please be careful. Nothing is worth losing your life too.” She hugged me and continued down the path to where her family waited.
As soon as Shea walked away, Zoila stepped up.
“Have you heard from Mr. Dangervil?”
“Zoila, this is not the time.”
“I need reassurance that he will be at the hearing on Friday.”
“He’ll be at the hearing.”
Laughton walked up to us.
“Laughton McNair, isn’t it?” Zoila asked.
“It is. Detective Burgan, isn’t it?”
She nodded and smiled. “I was sorry to hear you quit the department.” She waited, giving Laughton a chance to respond. He did not. “You take care now.”
She walked away with her head tilted skyward. If she looked back, she was hiding something, I thought. I considered she could be just doing her job, except that my stomach was acting up again, something that only happened when things weren’t right. My stomach never led me astray.
She made it to the parking lot.
Laughton laced my arm through his and escorted me back up the path to the gravesite. Only the attendants remained, removing flowers. They stopped when we approached. Laughton gestured for them to continue.
The scratchy sound of the shovel against the pile of dirt. The thud of the dirt hitting the casket.
“Calvin calls, I come without question. This isn’t over,” Laughton said as though talking out loud to himself.
“I’d say whoever killed Calvin knew him, because there is no way he would let his guard down, let someone into the club and turn his back unless he trusted them.”
We stood at the gravesite in silence until the hole was covered.
Dulcey and Fran leaned against the car, watching our approach. Dulcey bent sideways and said something to Fran. Fran stepped up with his hand stuck out to Laughton.
“The famed Laughton McNair. Fran Riley, Muriel’s new partner in crime.”
Laughton accepted his handshake.
“It is definitely a pleasure to finally meet you,” Fran said, jerking Laughton’s arm up and down. Laughton reached his other hand out and put it over Fran’s to calm the motion.
“Famed, huh? What’s that about, young man? Fran?”
“You’re talked about as the best firearms examiner on the planet, for starters,” Fran said, sounding like a starstruck fan.
Laughton winked at me.
Fran countered. “I wouldn’t know a damn thing if it was all up to Muriel. No sir, you are talked about throughout the department.”
Dulcey smiled and nodded her head in agreement as she opened the back door to get in.
“Nice to meet you, Fran,” Laughton said, then turned to me. “Your place.” He walked away. He didn’t get very far before Pacini came upon us.
“Laughton, tha
t you?” Laughton stopped and turned around. Pacini motioned him back. Laughton hesitated.
“Man, don’t even play that. C’mon back or I’ll chase you down.”
“Funny.” Laughton chuckled, walking back.
“Listen, if the two of you have your heads together, something’s up. Frankly, McNair, you’re wanted for questioning about some missing gun parts.”
Laughton searched my face with a quizzical expression. I nodded.
“I can make it all go away, but I need you both in my office within the hour. And don’t bother telling me about your friend and how his protection is up to you because the FBI, DEA, and the Mobile Street Crimes Unit can’t do the job.” He stuck his neck out turkey-style, so I could feel his breath on my face, and smell it. I sniffed and wrinkled my nose. “Be there,” Pacini said and stormed off. “Riley, you be there too,” he called back over his shoulder.
“I’ll meet you at the house,” Laughton said.
“I moved. We don’t live in the same . . .”
“I know your address.” He smiled and walked away.
As soon as we got going, I took the manila envelope out of my purse and opened it. Inside was a plain piece of white paper tri-folded with a key and a flash drive taped inside the folds.
CHAPTER 23
When Fran pulled into the driveway, Laughton pulled to the curb. Travis and Elijah ran out of the house to Fran’s car. Elijah opened the rear door for Dulcey and helped her out, while Travis opened the front passenger door for me and offered me a hand.
“You straight?” he inquired, as I rose from the car.
“I’m straight.”
“You don’t look like you’re straight.”
“You don’t look like you’re straight either,” I said, brushing at his hair. He swatted my hand away.
“Oh snap, my man, Laughton!” Travis glided down the driveway toward Laughton, who sported a broad smile as they came together and did the man-hug thing. They exchanged some banter I could not hear except for the outbursts of laughter. They horseplayed their way to Fran’s car. Travis introduced Laughton to Elijah, who offered his hand, though Laughton pulled him in for a man-hug.
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