The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

  “My legal record is not a matter for this court,” Bloom contested.

  Kleinfelder grinned. “Mr. Bloom is correct. Mr. Dartmouth’s last sentence will be stricken from the record. Do you have anything further, Mr. Dartmouth?”

  “No, Your Honor, I believe I’m done.”

  He turned his gaze toward Bloom. “Anything you’d like to add, counselor?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Bloom attempted to button his jacket but was unable to pull his lapels together. Instead he flattened the wisp of hair atop his head. “I believe that a paternity test will confirm that my client is indeed the biological father of Jo’Ell Sand. I further believe that my client would have been present and accounted for if the child’s mother did not conspire to withhold knowledge of the child’s existence from him. He has every legal right to be a part of the child’s life and participate in decisions effecting the child’s welfare and finances.”

  “Anything else?” Kleinfelder asked.

  “No,” Bloom replied. “That’s all, Your Honor.”

  “Terrific. Let’s take a ninety-minute lunch recess at which time I will deliver my verdict. I will say that Mr. Cleveland’s rights to participate in decisions affecting the welfare and finances of Jo’Ell Sand is not a matter for this court. The only matter before me is to rule on the fraud charge, and to that end, Mr. Bloom, you have not made a compelling argument as Mr. Cleveland made no attempt to contact Diamond Sand for over three years and did not make his whereabouts known to her.” He turned toward Diamond Sand and the disfigured child in her arms who was happily slurping chocolate milk. He smiled at her and then turned back to the two attorneys. “You can expect me to return a verdict in favor of Ms. Sand. And Mr. Bloom … at the risk of being accused of racial bias, please tell your client that I said that he can go straight to hell!”

  Chapter 45

  “Not this place again.” Officer Collins opened the police cruiser door and stared at Diamond Sand’s home in the light of a hot summer afternoon. He heard a child’s screaming within and hustled to the front door. “It’s locked,” he shouted as Smith approached. He looked through the window into the living room. “Ah, shit!”

  “What’ve we got?” Smith asked.

  “Two women and a child on the floor—lots of blood.” He pulled his gun. “Ready?” Collins didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped back and kicked in the front door, which shattered and fell to the side. He quickly peeked at the carnage and then signaled to Smith for them to search the house for an intruder.

  Collins took the lower level, Smith the upper. Collins completed his visual inspection first and hollered, “Clear!” He holstered his weapon and hurried over to the victims. He checked the two women for a pulse before picking up the small boy, who was lying face down in his mother’s blood.

  Jo’Ell began to scream.

  “Oh, thank God,” he said. “You’re all right.” He managed a weak smile for the deformed youth, knowing that the child’s life had been a disaster up until now and that it was only going to get worse. “You’re all right, little fella. It’s going to be okay.”

  Smith checked the basement and then joined his partner a moment later. “They both dead?” he asked.

  “Affirmative,” Collins replied.

  “I’ll call it in and have a look out back.”

  “Shhh! Quiet down little one.” Collins stood with the blood-covered little boy in his arms. “You want something to eat? Come on. Let’s look in the kitchen.” He carried Jo’Ell into the kitchen and opened the pantry door. He tore open a box of graham crackers and handed a few to the crying child.

  Jo’Ell took them and tried to stuff all of them in his mouth at once.

  “Hey, slow down. One at a time.” Collins turned when he saw Smith walking toward the kitchen. “All quiet?”

  “Yeah. The shooter is long gone,” Smith said.

  “You know who did this, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Smith replied. “Couldn’t be any more obvious if the prick left us his calling card.”

  Chapter 46

  “How do you sleep at night?” Steve Dartmouth sniped as he and Stuart Bloom walked from the courtroom.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, Steve, other than being a sore loser.”

  “Oh, fuck you. You know that your lowlife piece-of-shit client killed those two women.”

  “The district attorney couldn’t make a case, but you’ve already got him tried and convicted. Really? Listen to yourself, Steve. I think you’ve been working too hard. There was no murder weapon and no witnesses. You know something the police don’t? My client went back down to Florida after he lost in court. His live-in girlfriend alibied him.”

  Dartmouth furrowed his brow. “Yeah. Whatever it takes to get you through the night,” he said cynically.

  “There’s my Jew lawyer.”

  The two attorneys turned to see Blunt bopping toward them. He was wearing a shirt with an enormous collar and a cheap sports jacket that fit him like a clown suit. He put his arm around Bloom’s shoulder and scowled at Dartmouth. “Fuck off, Esquire Smart Mouth. The two winners got business to discuss.”

  I hope you get cancer and die. Dartmouth’s sentiment died unspoken. He knew better than to slander Blunt in front of his attorney. He shook his head and walked away.

  “Yeah. Fuck him,” Blunt cheered. “So, Bloomsy old boy, how soon before I get my hands on the checkbook. I’m gonna get my son the best stuff money can buy.”

  “Shouldn’t be more than a few days. I’ll present the court papers to the bank in the morning. You do realize the court has appointed me trustee. This isn’t the lottery, Walker. I can only disburse checks for the child’s needs and welfare.”

  “Sure. Sure and the first thing he needs is a car so that I can drive the boy to his doctors’ appointments—something fine, something spacious so that the boy can ride all comfortable-like. I’m thinking a Sedan DeVille Cadillac.”

  “And I’m thinking no.”

  “And I’m thinking we can work something out.” Blunt winked. “Hey, Bloomsy, you like black coochie? Old Blunt can get you laid six ways to Sunday. Know what I mean? You scratch old Blunt’s back, old Blunt be scratching yours.”

  Chapter 47

  Five years later.

  “Hey, retard, fetch your daddy a cold beer.” Blunt’s command was followed by the sound of shuffling as Jo’Ell propelled himself into the kitchen, using his arms to swing his torso and legs forward like a knuckle-walking primate. Blunt heard the refrigerator door open and looked down to see the eight-year-old hurrying forward with a bottle of beer clenched in his hand.

  Jo’Ell extended the bottle. “Buh-buh-buh-beer.”

  “Buh-buh-buh-beer,” Blunt said, mimicking his son in a cruel and mocking manner. “Can’t you just say beer, goddamn it? Why you got to say that buh-buh shit all the time?” He snatched the beer from his hand, leaned back on the sofa, and turned his attention to the Knicks game. “You still here?”

  Jo’Ell grinned at his father, exposing a mouthful of rotted teeth. He pointed at the TV. “Buh-buh-ball,” he said excitedly.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s basketball. You want to watch with your daddy?”

  Jo’Ell nodded eagerly.

  Blunt slapped the couch cushion. “Sit yo’ ass over here.”

  Jo’Ell used his arms like cantilevers and swung himself onto the couch. He cozied up next to his father.

  Blunt wrinkled his nose. “Damn, bat boy, you got the stankiest breath in Brooklyn. Breathe in the other direction or something.”

  “Who’s winning, baby?” Livonia Jenkins descended the staircase. She wore panties but was otherwise naked.

  “Knicks up by six,” Blunt replied.

  She sat down next to Jo’Ell. “Ewing got his shit together today?”

  “Patrick got game today, boy. Hitting Js from every which way.”

  Livonia stroked Jo’Ell’s hair. “What about you, bat boy? You watching the game too?”


  “Buh-buh-buh-ball.” Jo’Ell turned until he was facing Livonia’s exposed breasts. His eyes twinkled.

  “Blunt, I think this child more interested in my big titties than the ball game.” She grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face into her cleavage.

  Jo’Ell giggled.

  “Can you say titties? Say titties, big-ass black titties.”

  “Tit-tees.”

  “See that. The boy don’t stutter when he say titties. There’s hope for him yet.”

  “Don’t you be teasing bat boy,” Blunt said. “He’s our meal ticket.”

  “I didn’t tease him. I just said he likes my titties.” She crossed her legs. “Hey, Blunt, I think we’re out of weed.”

  “Put on your damn robe and check the mailbox for bat boy’s check. Now can the two of y’all sit quiet so I can listen to this here basketball game? Damn.”

  She tickled Jo’Ell’s cheek. “Hey, bat boy, you want to play with my titties some more? Go out and check the mailbox for your allowance. If you come right back, I’ll let you stick your nose in my titties again. ”

  “Buh-buh-box.”

  “Yeah, that’s it check the mailbox. Make it quick, little bat boy.”

  Jo’Ell propelled himself off the couch with one muscular push and arm-walked to the front door.

  “Let’s see what the retard brings back,” Blunt quipped. “Don’t be surprised if he brings back a stanky old alley cat ’stead of the mail.”

  “He ain’t no retard, Blunt. He only acts like a fool because you treat him like one. He’s smarter than you think. Maybe you ought to see about getting him some special schooling instead of squandering all the money on beer and crack.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. Who asked you, woman?”

  “You know if the court ever checks up on the way we been taking care of Jo’Ell, you could lose custody.”

  “Them fools ain’t checking up on squat. Besides, let them just try to mess wif my business. I’ll show them legal fools the heel of my boot.”

  “Big talk. You know the heel of your boot ain’t all that big. Won’t be long before Jo’Ell stops taking shit from you. That boy’s as strong as an ox.”

  “Ain’t about size. It’s about technique.” Blunt lifted his hands and struck a martial arts pose.

  “Oh, so now you some kind of ninja motherfucker?” She giggled. “You got some throwing stars tucked away in your briefs?”

  “Na, but I got me a big black nunchuck in my pants. I believe you seen it.”

  “Baby, you can swing that thing around all you like, but it ain’t gonna knock no one out.”

  Chapter 48

  Five years later.

  His treasure in tow, Jo’Ell walked slowly down Surf Avenue, careful not to spill water from the small fishbowl he had won at the Coney Island arcade.

  He enjoyed his daily summer routine. Blunt gave him five dollars each morning and told him, “Get lost now—just be back home for supper.”

  Jo’Ell, with his long arms and steady aim, had become expert at skee ball and would take home at least a few goldfish on most days. Today he had won five and a small glass bowl as well, which he’d add to his collection. The basement was filled with plastic buckets and cheap arcade fishbowls. He had close to one hundred fish in total and took pride in caring for them. He changed their water every other day as the arcade owner had instructed him to do and fed them every morning.

  The basement had become his sanctuary, a dark and quiet place where he could escape from Blunt and his cruelty. It had begun as a form of punishment. Blunt would lock him in the basement because Jo’Ell had begun to spy on him and Livonia in bed, but the basement quickly turned into a fortress where he could play with his fish and the other creatures he collected. He had a zoo of his very own and had learned to like darkness more than light.

  Acquon Davis was a boy in age but a man in stature, with a premature full dark beard and long sculptured sideburns. He was only fourteen years old but was already six-foot two inches tall and weighed a solid two-twenty. His immense size was one story, and his emotional maturity something else entirely. He would use his physical attributes to intimidate and take what he wanted from smaller boys. “What you got there, bat boy?” he demanded.

  Jo’Ell stopped to present his trophy. He was naïve and smiled proudly as he lifted the small tank to eyelevel so that Acquon could note his achievement. “Goldfis’,” he said with pride. “I win dem at the arc … arc-arc-ar-cade.”

  “You gonna eat them?” Acquon asked in a taunting manner.

  Jo’Ell snickered. “Nooo. I not going to eat dem. They’re pets. I got a lot of them.”

  “So your mama and daddy gonna eat ’em too?”

  “Nooo.” He snickered again. “Mama and daddy don’t eat goldfis’.”

  “Are you sure your daddy don’t eat them fish? ’Cause I hear yo mama’s twat smell like sardines.”

  “I eat sardines,” Jo’Ell volunteered. “They’re dericious.”

  “Dummy! I think you ought to eat them goldfish.”

  “No.” Jo’Ell grinned, unaware that he was the victim of a joke.

  “I ain’t asking. I’m telling. Eat them damn goldfish.” Acquon pushed him, and some of the water lapped out of the tank onto Jo’Ell’s T-shirt.

  “Hey, stop,” Jo’Ell protested. “You’ll huwt the fis’.”

  Acquon shoved him again.

  Jo’Ell stumbled backwards but retained control of the fishbowl. He peered into the bowl and counted to make sure that all five goldfish were still there. “Don’t do that, Ac … Ac-quon.”

  One final shove did the trick. Jo’Ell managed to hold onto the fishbowl but not the contents. When he regained his balance, he noticed the fish were on the ground, flopping around hopelessly. His shirt was soaked with water from the fishbowl.

  Acquon was a tough boy and was not prone to panic, but the look on Jo’Ell’s face frightened him to his core. “Hey! Take it easy,” he shouted as Jo’Ell advanced, gripping the glass fishbowl by the lip. “It was just a joke.” Acquon put his hands up defensively but was unable to impede the punishing velocity of the glass bowl as Jo’Ell swung it at his head. The bowl struck him solidly against the temple. Acquon blinked once and shuddered before going down. He was unconscious while Jo’Ell beat him about the head and face, pounding away at him like a carpenter hammering away at a common nail with a claw hammer.

  A woman wheeling a baby carriage shrieked when she saw the deformed ogre battering Acquon’s face. She watched as Jo’Ell picked the goldfish off the ground and stuffed them into Acquon’s mouth.

  Chapter 49

  Jo’Ell held out his hand, waiting at the kitchen table for Blunt to offer him his customary five-dollar bribe.

  He regarded the boy and shook his head with despair. “Damn fool, you ain’t going to the arcade no more. Why you had to whoop that boy so bad? That boy’s gonna sue your ass and make all our money his. Why you couldn’t just keep your ugly bat-face down and walk away?”

  “He puss me.”

  “She-it, I know he pushed you. That don’t mean you beat a man half to death. Now I got to go talk to the Jew lawyer and find a way to protect our money. You lucky you ain’t been sent to jail.”

  Jo’Ell presented his open hand again. “Five dolluhs, prease.”

  “Listen, you stupid bitch, I done told you there ain’t no more money. Don’t you understand nothing?”

  “There money. Mr. Bloom say I always gonna have money.”

  “First of all, it ain’t your money, it’s my money, and I’m in charge of it.”

  “Five dolluhs, prease,” Jo’Ell demanded.

  Blunt took a bite of toast. “Go away, retard. Go down the damn basement and play with your goddamn fish.”

  “Want more fis’,” Jo’Ell said insistently. “I lose five when Ac … Ac-quon puss me. I go play skee ball, like every day.”

  “Would you puh-leeze get your mooching ass out of my face?”

  “No! W
ant more fis’.”

  “What’s all the fuss?” Livonia said as she entered the kitchen.

  Jo’Ell hurried to her with a big smile and an outstretched hand. “Five dolluhs, prease.”

  “That’s what this is all about?” She turned to Blunt. “What you expect him to do all day, sit around and watch you smoke crack?”

  “Say what? He’s playing both sides against the middle,” Blunt snapped.

  “I told you he was smart.”

  “So smart he nearly killed a boy over fish.”

  “You know that Acquon’s nothing but trouble, always bullying and stealing. I say he got what he deserved. ’Sides, why you defending that nasty-ass bully over your own son?”

  “You better step back, bitch. You know what he done.”

  “Well, that don’t mean it’s gonna happen again. You know Jo’Ell’s not like that, and you know Acquon provoked him. Give the boy his five dollars and let him have some fun. He won’t do it again, will you, Jo’Ell?” She stroked his cheek.