“What happened to your finger?” asked Marshall. He was dressed in an impeccable navy suit that fit like a glove. He sported a tiny Afro and a beard over his handsome face, something he’d never been allowed to do in his old U.S. Attorney days.
“Fixing a window,” said Danny. He smiled a little.
“I don’t like it when you smile so much,” said Marshall. “The only time you smile is when you’re up to no good.”
“Not true,” said Danny. “I smile when the Tigers or Lions win, I smile when a scumbag goes to prison and I smile when Vinny takes care of me.”
A couple of people nearby looked oddly at Danny. Hearing the rumbling, black-sounding voice come from the white face always got attention.
“Daytime sex,” said Marshall. “I remember that.” Marshall’s wife, Chemin, was a beautiful woman but the years of matrimony and new children had cooled their bed a little.
“Nobody told your ass to get married,” said Danny.
“You’ll be there one day, my friend.”
“Not if I’m lucky. You marry a woman and you might as well bolt her knees together.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Marshall. “I admit things slow down but you get other things for it, like kids.”
“How are them knuckleheads?” asked Danny.
“Both good. Two kids are like having four.”
Marshall and Chemin had two kids. They had their own son, Daniel and his nephew, Kadhi, his brother’s son.
“I can only imagine,” said Danny. “I have enough trouble raising myself.”
“Got a meeting with Mayor Patterson’s people,” said Marshall flatly. “I think he wants to bring me in as an advisor. I’m thinking about it.”
“Hell, you should be the Mayor as far as I’m concerned.”
“No way. It’s a thankless job,” said Marshall, and Danny could see he meant it.
“You’d be better than that muthafucka,” said Danny. “Man’s an idiot.”
“I admit he’s disappointed a lot of people but right now, he’s all we’ve got.”
“So why is he so in love with you?” asked Danny.
“The Weeks case,” said Marshall.
A year ago, Marshall defended Mayor Patterson in a sexual harassment suit by a former employee. Valerie Weeks had been fired from her post in Strategic Planning after she alleged the Mayor propositioned her multiple times. She refused and was later dismissed. The case had been fueled by Weeks’s allegations that the Mayor had been very aggressive and used colorful sexual language when asking for specific sex acts. Weeks was a stunning woman and everyone was ready to believe her story.
Marshall had taken the case on retainer and had forced a settlement after a blistering deposition that reduced Weeks to tears.
Marshall had discovered that Weeks had a very active sex-life and had used it against her to devastating effect.
“I remember that one. Nice looking lady,” said Danny. “I know he did it, by the way.”
“Well, I pulled the Mayor’s ass out of the fire on that one,” Marshall said. “Guess he’d like to have me there full time, especially since the new governor started rattling his sabre about taking over cities he thinks are being mismanaged.”
Michigan’s governor was tired of what he saw as waste. He had already taken over three municipalities and was threatening to appoint what he called an “emergency manager” to run Detroit.
Danny didn’t know a lot about such things but he knew when someone was being punked and taking over a city was a gangster move of the highest order.
“Governor’s no joke,” said Danny. “He’s cleaning house and there none dirtier than ours, you know.”
“Cannot and will not argue with you on that one,” said Marshall with just a touch of sorrow.
Danny’s cell phone rang. He answered it and his face took on a grim look. “Okay,” he said.
“Who died?” asked Marshall knowingly.
“Some girl,” said Danny, “shot last night.”
“I thought you guys only got the nasty cases.”
“Don’t know the whole story yet,” said Danny as he got up from the table. “We still coming over for dinner?”
“As far as I know,” said Marshall. “So what do you think about the Mayor’s impending offer?”
“Fuck him,” said Danny. “Detroit’s too good for him and so are you.”
“If I do say no,” said Marshall, “I’ll try to use words a little more subtle than that.”
Danny and Marshall stood and the two men hugged each other. Every time he saw his old friend, Danny remembered the day they met in elementary school. Marshall had been the only friendly face in the crowd of black visages. Danny was the new kid, a skinny, pale and frightened boy.
Danny left the restaurant and began to walk the short distance to police headquarters at 1300 Beaubien.
3
RIDDEAUX
Danny walked into The Sewer and made a beeline for his partner, Erik Brown. Erik was a solid cop and veteran with so many citations, that he’d lost count. He tolerated Danny’s cowboy behavior and called him the ghetto Sherlock Holmes for his amazing ability to read clues. Danny loved the man and next to Vinny and Marshall, Erik was his best friend.
What Danny had trouble with these days, was their new boss. When Tony Hill became Chief of Police, he took his old partner, James Cole, up the ladder with him. That left the Special Crimes Unit without a leader. For a wild moment, Danny hoped that Erik would get the job, but he was passed over.
The assignment went to Yvette Riddeaux, a long time vet and politically connected player. The appointment reeked of cronyism, but no one said anything. Mayor Patterson was known to be vindictive and he had spies everywhere.
Riddeaux was in her forties but look younger. She was regarded as very nice looking and Danny agreed. She had a commanding air and spoke with a proper cadence that gave away her extensive education. She hadn’t done a lot of street duty but was promoted regularly. Riddeaux was being groomed and everyone knew it.
Riddeaux didn’t like Danny and Danny wasn’t sure why. She didn’t seem to care about anyone’s race and it wasn’t a man thing. She was happily married and rumored to have a lover, so that ruled out sexual tension as well.
It just seemed to be adverse chemistry between them. For his part, Danny didn’t care much for her one way or the other.
“Hey man,” said Erik who waited at his desk.
Danny had walked by the other officers with casual hellos. All of the old guys in The Sewer were gone. Riddeaux replaced them, one by one, with “her people.” Danny and Erik were the only ones left. Riddeaux had her protectors, but so did Danny. The Chief liked him and so he was untouchable.
“What we got?” asked Danny.
“We got a meeting with Her Highness and we’ve been waiting on you.”
Erik was going through a divorce with his wife and was sad and cranky all at once. Danny was treading softly with him because of this.
“Sorry,” said Danny. “I thought I had time for a bite.”
“Well, you don’t. Let’s get to it.”
“Hold up,” said Danny. “You okay, man? How is it going at home?”
Erik softened a little. He seemed to know he was prickly lately. “It’s okay,” he said. I’m still living there and once it’s done, I’m leaving.”
“So, no change, huh?”
“No. Renee’s still fucking some guy I don’t know and no, I don’t want you to find out who he is. It’s her business. Okay, are we all good here?”
“Yes,” said Danny. “Unless you need a hug.”
They each laughed a little at the attempted joke. Danny loved hearing Erik’s laugh. He was such a strong man and for most of their partnership, it was Danny who had been the head case. Now it was Danny’s turn to be the one with the big shoulders.
Danny didn’t know what he would do if Vinny were openly sleeping with another man. Well, he did, and it wasn’t a pretty thought. But Erik was n
ot about to resort to violence.
Erik had married a younger woman. They had two kids and for a long time, things were good. But Erik had screwed up something and was paying the price for it.
Danny and Erik walked into Riddeaux’s office just off the bullpen. It was spotlessly clean inside and Riddeaux held a hand up to them as she finished off a call. She wore one of those pretentious headsets and paced as she talked.
Around her office, there were pictures of her with Detroit’s luminaries, judges, past mayors and even The President. On her desk, was a picture of Riddeaux and her husband, a pleasant looking man of fifty or so. The photo was taken at an antique gun show. They each held pistols and smiled.
Riddeaux had one of those expensive short hairdos and her tresses were graying nicely. She kept herself trim and was proud of the running club she’d started.
Riddeaux also had a fondness for expensive shoes and many of the female clerical workers buzzed when she walked by. She always wore dresses and today had on a gray business suit with a pencil skirt that accentuated her hips.
Riddeaux finished the call and took off the headset. She turned her attention to Danny and Erik.
“I have a case for you two,” she said. “Murder on Seven Mile last night. A girl was shot to death and we believe there was a witness.”
“Robbery?” asked Erik.
“Looks like it,” said Riddeaux. “Her purse was missing. The shooter blew half her face off with a .44 at close range.”
“Jesus,” said Erik. “I guess he wanted her dead.”
“Who is she?” asked Danny. His interest was piqued.
“Her name was Rashindah Watson, she was a working girl as we understand it.”
“So why is this a case for the SCU?” asked Danny.
“I’ve learned not to ask,” said Riddeaux moving from behind her desk and now Danny caught the familiar venom in her voice. “But next year is an election year and the Mayor could be facing a formidable challenger. The death of a young girl can be used to make him seem ineffectual. Someone upstairs must know this because it was sent here.”
“Politics,” said Danny as if it were a curse word. “I prefer non-political murder.”
“No such thing in this town,” said Riddeaux. “There may have been a witness and it’s probably drug related. The girl had a bag of weed on her. She might have been a low rent dealer. And she had a gun.”
“I’m betting she had a .22,” said Danny.
“Good guess,” said Riddeaux. “She did, a Smith and Wesson. It was under her seat.”
“A lot of working girls carry them because they’re small and can fit into tight places," said Danny. “Also, they became choice after the Elwes thing.”
Two years ago, a woman named Kitana Elwes had shot two men who tried to rape her near Southfield. She’d used a .22 and had held it up for the cameras the day she got it back from evidence.
“Okay,” said Erik. “We’re on it, boss.”
“If there was a witness, be quick about it,” said Riddeaux.
“Otherwise, we’ll have two unsolved murders.”
Erik and Danny moved toward the door. Danny was already thinking about the case. Who would execute a prostitute? Why did the witness run? More importantly, why wasn’t that witness dead too? But Riddeaux was right about one thing, if they didn’t find the witness quickly, he or she might be in a grave.
“Cavanaugh,” said Riddeaux from behind Danny. “A moment.”
Danny stopped as Erik left the room. Danny turned back and moved to Riddeaux’s desk.
“Have a seat,” she said, sitting down.
Danny sat down and knew that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good for him or the bullshit case he’d just gotten.
“You may not like politics,” said Riddeaux, “but politics keep you in your current position. The Chief made it clear that he wanted you here and so I had no choice.”
“Glad to have your confidence,” said Danny.
“We can do without the sarcasm. You’re good at your job, Cavanaugh. Your skills are often uncanny. I know you can solve this little trifle of a case.”
“But that’s not why you wanted to talk, is it?”
“No,” she said. “I know you sense the, shall we say, distance between us. What you don’t know is why.”
“No, I don’t know why,” said Danny. “But I try not to worry about it. We don’t get in each other’s way.”
“Agreed,” said Riddeaux. “But I think you should know. I’ve seen all kinds of men in this job, but never one like you. If you were white, I’d know certain things and if you were black, I’d know other things. But you’re both—and neither. I’m not sure what side you’re on.”
“I’m not on any side,” said Danny.
“My point exactly,” said Riddeaux and now she smiled at him. “I wanted to remake this department but Chief Hill made it clear you and Erik were not to be touched.”
“He’s a good man,” said Danny. “He knows we belong here.”
“Even if you could make more money somewhere else?”
“Money doesn’t motivate me as much as it does other people.”
“See, that’s what I mean,” said Riddeaux. “That’s not the kind of thing anyone says.”
Riddeaux leaned back in her leather chair. “You nearly beat a suspect to death and yet you still have a badge, a gold one at that.”
“That’s Detroit for you,” said Danny. Only in this town could he still be a cop and have the respect of his commanders. The “D” was a tough town and it took tough men and women to run it.
“I respect the protection you’ve earned with my superiors,” said Riddeaux. “And you and Brown have the highest clearance rate here. So, despite my inability to read you, I think we ought to make peace.”
Danny started to say that he didn’t know they were feuding, but it seemed dishonest. He and Riddeaux did not argue but it was a silent war of resentment going on.
“I’m cool with that,” said Danny. “We all work for the same people.”
“Now, you are officially one of my people,” said Riddeaux. “Thanks for your time, Detective.”
She got up and they shook hands. Danny walked out into the bullpen to find Erik waiting on him.
“What did she say?” asked Erik.
“She can’t figure me out,” said Danny, “but she wants us to be cool with each other. I’m one of her boys now.”
“You were in there so long, I thought maybe she dropped to her knees for you.”
“Who kills a hooker like that?” asked Danny, almost to himself. “Not a customer. Sounds like a street hit. Question is: why?”
“So, you gonna take point on this?” Erik already knew the answer but he had to ask as a formality.
“Yeah. I think she wants it that way. If we screw it up, she’ll try to put it on me, anyway.”
“No worries, partner,” said Erik. “Just another murder in Detroit, right?”
4
NEGRO IN A HAYSTACK
Danny and Erik stood with Fiona Walker in her forensics lab. She was one of the department’s best specialists, one of the best in the country, in fact.
Fiona suffered from extreme albinism and was pale as paper. She was great at her job, which was why Danny liked her. She was also a cynic and all around smartass, which was why he loved her.
“Cause of death, someone shot her with a big ass gun,” Fiona said. “Forty-four Mag by the slug. Dirty Harry’s gun. You can see the damage.” She swept a hand toward the corpse, which was laid out before them in the cold room. “Damned shame,” said Fiona. “She was a good-looking kid.”
“Anything on the witness?” asked Danny.
“Got good news,” said Fiona. “I think it’ll be easy to find him.”
“Fingerprints?” said Danny who noticed a set posted on a board. “He touched the inside of the car.”
“Shit, he touched everything,” said Fiona. “The car, the windows, the bag of weed, but beli
eve it or not, the man’s clean, not in the system.”
“That’s a first,” said Erik. “Maybe he’s not from Detroit.”
“I said the system,” Fiona emphasized the word. “The national system, Brown. Jesus, keep up.”
Erik looked a little upset but managed a smile at this.
“I have DNA gentlemen,” said Fiona. Her eyes brightened and Danny noticed for the first time, she wasn’t wearing her dark glasses for her light sensitivity.
“What’d he do, piss his pants?” asked Erik, laughing.
“Yeah,” said Fiona. “How’d you know?”
“Hell, I was joking,” said Erik. “Did he really? That’s nasty.”
“A forty-four at close range would make a lot of guys piss,” said Danny. “No DNA match in the system either, I’m guessing.”
“Right, smart boy,” said Fiona. “And judging from the specimen, it’s definitely a man. There were even dead sperm in it. He’d had sex recently, I’m guessing.”
“So if the hitter shot into the car, why didn’t the slug hit the passenger?” asked Erik.
“He was at an angle,” said Fiona. “The slug went through and lodged in the bottom of the rear passenger’s door frame.” She moved over to a small counter and brought back a slug, battered and ugly.
“So all we have to do is find him and match the DNA and fingerprints,” said Danny.
“How the hell is that good news?” asked Erik. “There are a million men in this town.
“Not really,” said Danny. “More than likely he’s black. If he’s not in the game, he’s close to it. He was in the car and so he’s probably a friend or a customer. So, I’d say we’re looking at only about a few thousand men who could be our guy.”
“Excuse me,” said Erik cynically, “that’s much better.”
Danny moved over to the body lying on the metal slab. The girl was indeed good-looking and had had a nice figure. They already knew that Rashindah Watson worked as a waitress for a strip club and was rumored to have been a part-time hooker.
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