Citycide
Page 12
At one time, he was implosive, intense and angry at the world. Policework gave him an outlet for his aggressions of which there were many. And it had all culminated in an incredible moment.
He killed a man.
Not in the line of duty, but in an act of cold vengeance. A crazed gunman had taken hostages and murdered all the black ones. When Tony saw this, something inside of him took over and soon the gunman was sailing through a window, heading for the hard ground below the old GM building.
But he had gotten away with it. Hell, he was made a hero and the only person who knew the truth was the aforementioned best friend who had never uttered a word about it.
“Let the dead stay dead,” Jim had said. “All of them.”
Words to live by.
Tony was not surprised when Don Przybylski entered his office. Tony had read the news stories about the Mayor and the text messages like everyone else and knew there would be fires all over the city government. It was a real mess and just the kind of thing a young politician would get caught up in, he thought.
Tony could remember the days when you had to have a picture or videotape to take down a politician, now it was a few words on a little screen. Technology had made the world so small and dangerous.
Przybylski entered, moving silently across from Tony. He found the thin white man unsettling and that was a feat for anyone with Tony. Still, Przybylski was partly responsible for Tony’s ascension to Chief. Chief Noble had not been a political ally and so when the election was over, he was out and Tony was in.
Tony thought Mayor Patterson was too young to lead the city. The kid had charisma and he was smart. Tony did not even think he was immature as others said. Patterson just lacked what could only be called soul, the innate ability to do the right, selfless and noble thing.
The kid had won the close election and Przybylski had made the recommendation for Noble to resign and for Tony to get the job. Tony immediately accepted. No one got to be Chief in Detroit without seeing a few bodies dropped along the way.
“I don’t have to ask what this meeting is about do I, Don?” asked Tony.
“No,” said Przybylski taking a seat and letting out a long breath.
“So, what’s the story?” Tony asked. “Is this as fucked up as it looks?”
“You detectives get right to the point.”
“I have to say, he’s been asking for it with some of the things he’s doing but this, this is a new level of bad.”
“Welcome to my world,” said Przybylski. “He never listens to me. In any event, it’s all about damage control now.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Tony, “but what does that have to do with me?”
“Everything,” said Przybylski. “The Mayor will need his people to fall in line and protect him if any more bad press comes his way. We can’t have people talking out of turn, so our office will set parameters for commentary.”
Tony’s face never changed expression even though in his head he heard alarms. No politician sent a high level man like Przybylski to take a loyalty pledge unless something bad was coming or worse, it was already here.
“I’m not a big fan of the media,” said Tony.
“They’ve always seemed to like you and that could come in handy. I remember how good you were after those serial murders a few years ago. You put that young kid on them, what was his name?”
“Detective Cavanaugh. A good man,” said Tony.
“Is he related to the old Mayor?” asked Przybylski.
“No, that Cavanagh spelled his name differently, I believe. No “U” in it. A big deal with the Irish, apparently.”
“Right. Cavanaugh was the one who found the embarrassing evidence while on a murder investigation. A disgruntled employee betrayed his corporate contract and sold it to both papers.”
“Jesus,” said Tony. “Bad luck.”
“Indeed,” said Przybylski. “Lieutenant Riddeaux is a valued team player but this Cavanaugh, he’s not going to be a problem, is he?”
Tony hesitated just a second. He wanted to say Danny Cavanaugh was a walking, breathing problem, an uncorrupted heart of nobility and cop instinct, but what he said instead was: “No, I can handle him.”
“Excellent,” said Przybylski. “So, with the usual nervous investors, angry ministers and YouTube videos, the Mayor’s just making sure his people are still with him.”
“A loyalty test?”
“I guess you could say that. I know it’s silly but this is politics, Chief.”
Przybylski leaned back in his seat and his face fell flat. Tony knew what this meant. He was looking for an answer. Tony hated the politics associated with being Chief. You served at the Mayor’s pleasure, which meant you were likely to be a pawn now and then. The Mayor had really screwed up this time and he was circling the wagons early.
“The Mayor has my support as always,” Tony said with confidence.
“Excellent,” said Przybylski. He stood and buttoned his jacket. “I was never here, by the way.”
“Noted,” said Tony.
Przybylski walked out and Tony felt slightly unclean. Politics was a dirty business but in Detroit it could get downright filthy.
Patterson was on a rocky road with the people because he came in with energy but without a plan and since then, everything he touched had turned to dust. And this sex scandal had an even bigger bomb in it.
Tony had seen Patterson’s kind of ascension before. A big city goes to hell, the old powerbrokers and political wannabes get scared of the hot seat and a young mayor is put in office and controlled from the outside. Patterson had come in owing everything to his wealthy parents and the prominent business people who had a vested interest in a cooperative city government.
But weak men made weaker leaders and Mayor Patterson mistook cockiness for confidence and aspiration for inspiration. The man had strippers in the Mayor’s mansion for god’s sake, Tony thought. And the sad thing was, Patterson had seen nothing wrong with it. Now his ass was in a sling, which meant all of the Mayor’s people were going to be leaned on.
Tony stepped away from the desk and went to a window. He looked back at the desk and vowed to get rid of it.
He wondered why Przybylski went out of his way to bring up the past. Whatever his motivation, Tony understood clearly that the Mayor’s problem was connected to young Danny Cavanaugh.
“Cavanaugh,” he said to himself and then he sighed. That man was a magnet for trouble.
16
THE BAD WIFE
Mayor Patterson looked away from his jury. He was convicted already and he knew it. This wasn’t even close to a fair trial. This was Kafkaesque.
He sat in the den of his parents’ home on Detroit’s north side. None of them trusted the Mayor’s mansion or the city offices for this discussion. It was paranoia, but the Feds had bugged past mayors.
Patterson’s mother railed about his latest scandal, pacing back and forth. Taisha stood near her, looking regal as usual. Patterson sat on a sofa and listened because it was all he could do.
His father, Randolph, sat in a leather chair listening intently to his wife’s rant. Standing behind him, quiet and serene was his younger brother, Ahmad.
Ahmad Patterson had received his African name without dispute but he had gotten none of the family’s other attributes. Randolph and Theresa were fine looking specimens. By contrast, Ahmad had bad skin, was balding even though he was still in his late 20’s and he was very rotund. He was younger than D’Andre but looked like the elder brother.
Ahmad also had a mental deficiency that none of his doctors could define. He was so slow-witted as a kid, that Theresa had considered institutionalizing him at one point. But he wasn’t so dull that he couldn’t function and so it was good news and very bad news at the same time.
When he was younger, Ahmad had been a bed-wetter. He was also prone to fits of anger, which were now managed with medication.
He worked with his mother but had no real respon
sibility and behind their backs everyone whispered about the dim-witted brother of the Mayor.
Ahmad looked at his brother D’Andre with something bordering on sympathy but it was hard to tell.
This was the Patterson family brain trust. It was a tradition to gather during a crisis and beat out a solution. Even though he was the Mayor, Patterson relented to this because this family court had a storied history.
The Patterson fortune had been made by Randolph Earl Patterson Senior, a bootlegger and numbers runner who had ties to the Purple Gang back in the 1920’s. His nickname then was Randy Red, which he acquired for this penchant to wear the color.
Randy Red was the go between for white gangsters and the black population. He even had a crew of union guys he used for muscle on occasion.
Though times were bad for black folks, Randy Red guarded his family from the harsh racism of the times. By force, guile or surrender, he always protected his own.
Randy held family meetings where issues were discussed and court was held. He wanted his kids to understand America, and to him, America was all about opportunity and business. So in times of crises, the Patterson court was always opened to solve problems.
Randy Red had three children, Randolph Earl Junior, the eldest and his sisters, Ella and Harriet.
Randolph Junior inherited most of Randy Red’s fortune, when his father died of cancer. This was a fact that still pissed off his sisters.
Randolph used the money to start a chain of businesses. Patterson Holdings was now involved in everything from car dealerships to fast food franchises.
Randolph married a pretty, ambitious lawyer named Theresa Hammond, a prominent minister’s daughter and saw the 1970’s bring a surge in business that resulted in wealth, and political connections.
And through the years, Randolph maintained Randy Red’s tradition of coming together to solve problems and D’Andre Patterson’s current situation was a big one.
“What in the hell were you thinking?” asked his mother Theresa. She was a smallish woman with thick legs and a round face. She had been a local beauty queen and was even featured in Ebony at age 16. Now, she looked more like a pretty substitute teacher than model. “You embarrass your wife and your family like this.”
“You confessed to perjury, you know,” said Taisha. “Why not just giftwrap your ass for our enemies. The goddamned Governor already took over two cities. He would love to put Detroit in his pocket.”
“I’m not worried about him,” said Patterson. “Detroit is a big ass pill to swallow.”
“The texts can’t be used,” said Randolph. “It’s his private account and as such, is not admissible.”
“That’s not what our company lawyer says,” said Theresa. “She says it’s a gray area and you know what a gray area means.”
“Look,” said Patterson, “I’m sorry about all of this but Dad’s right. They can’t touch me on this. Przybylski and my lawyers say it’s an invasion of privacy.”
“Screw Przybylski,” said Taisha. “Little creep.”
“I had some hope that you could control yourself more than your father but I see that’s a fantasy,” said Theresa.
“No need for that,” said Randolph. “We need to help our son. Not dredge up old shit.”
Theresa cut her husband a hard look, the kind of look that held a lifetime of secrets and compromise, a weight carried by all long-married women. Randolph returned her glare with one of his own. The moment ended in detente.
“The story’s out and D’Andre is being attacked,” said Theresa. “Who’s the damned cop that found the evidence?”
“Some white cop named Cavanaugh,” said Patterson. “I got people on it. The case is closed and he’s off it.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” said Randolph. “I talked to a friend on the force about this man. He’s second generation blue and was raised in the neighborhood just outside of Hamtramck near Six Mile and Conant.”
“A white man made it out of there alive?” said Theresa. “Jesus, I see your point. He’s gotta be one tough bastard.”
“I can have his boss back him off,” said Patterson.
The chorus of “No’s” was loud and clear.
“You stay away from this mess,” said Theresa. “In fact, we need to get you some real business to do, to make it look like it’s a minor irritation. You go messing with the cops and the prosecutor will smell blood in the water.”
“And we definitely don’t want to wake that bitch up,” said Randolph. “Woman’s a menace.”
“I’ve talked with most of our big business backers and they are all cool,” said Patterson. “They assure me that—“
“Of course they assured you,” said Theresa with a short laugh. “You’re the Mayor and they have to always seem supportive. When I called, I got reservations. They are still with us but they are not happy about this shit and they shouldn’t be.”
Patterson looked to his father. His mother was always a little dramatic. In the end, he really only trusted his father’s judgment. Randolph looked back at his son and nodded slightly.
“I will call them back and assure them this thing will blow over,” said Patterson.
“We should get him a lawyer,” said Ahmad. His voice cut through the thick tension of the moment.
“I don’t know how that can help him,” said Theresa coldly.
“Ahmad is right,” said Taisha. “Hiring an attorney will take the attention away from D’Andre. You know how people are. It will deflect the press, give them something to write about. The attorney can pull all the attention to himself.”
The jury thought a moment and then all agreed. Randolph patted Ahmad on the arm. Ahmad’s expression brightened a little.
Theresa showed no appreciation for Ahmad’s suggestion. Instead, she nodded to Taisha as if she had come up with it. Theresa had no daughters and had adopted the beautiful and intelligent girl as her own.
Taisha glanced at her husband and Patterson saw the hurt and menace inside of her. She had barely said anything about his infidelity. Taisha would punish him somehow but it would not be in this moment. Right now, she was protecting her investment.
“It has to be someone with stature and credibility,” said Randolph. “And someone with the gift of gab.”
“We need a fucking eight hundred pound gorilla,” said Theresa. “I want this thing crushed into the ground.”
“There’s someone who’s powerful, smart and his situation is great,” said Taisha. “Marshall Jackson.”
“I know him,” said Theresa. “Tall, very handsome man. Why is he so perfect?”
“Because I happen to know that he’s best friends with the damned white cop,” said Taisha. She waited a moment as it sunk in for all of them. Randolph starting chuckling and even Theresa smiled a little.
“If his boy is on the case, then he’ll get cut out,” said Taisha. “Cavanaugh won’t be able to talk to him about anything.”
“Marshall was my lawyer on the Weeks case too,” said Patterson. “Makes sense.” He made sure not to look at Taisha as he mentioned Valerie Weeks. But he could feel her stare on him.
“Can he do it if he’s friends with the cop?” asked Ahmad and it was another good point. This time, Theresa smiled at him.
“A conflict,” said Theresa. “A good point but I don’t think that will force him out.”
“I know Marshall,” said Patterson. “He’s ambitious. He won’t be able to walk away from a media case.”
“Then we have our offensive deflection,” said Randolph. “It’s perfect. Taisha, Ahmad, good job.”
“D’Andre, you should put several of the other heavy weight lawyers in town on retainers for the city and conflict them out,” said Theresa. “And do it very quietly. We don’t want them working for Weeks or anyone else who might want to start trouble.”
“Got it,” said Patterson. His mother was mean but she was very clever, he thought.
“Okay, I think husband and wife need to confer,
” said Randolph.
Randolph got up and walked out without even checking with the others. Theresa said goodbye and left on her husband’s heels.
Ahmad lingered, looking at his brother. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, man.”
Patterson went over and hugged his brother. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
Ahmad left and Patterson turned to face his very angry wife. Taisha stood before him arms folded, striking a rather sexy pose with her legs wide apart.
“What can I do?” asked Patterson. “Huh? What do you want not to punish me for this? A trip, diamonds, more money in your private account? Just let me know and I’ll do it, but please, I don’t want any more bitching about this.”
Taisha broke her pose and moved close to him. She got close enough for him to smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body.
“I want everything, Mr. Zulu,” she said in a measured voice.
Patterson blinked at the use of his other name. It was meant to make a point; she wanted to address his other self, the big, badass who did what he wanted to whomever he wanted.
“If you don’t get out of this, me and the kids are not going down with you,” said Taisha. “We don’t deserve to fall just because you did. So, you are going to transfer all of our assets over to me, or your mother or one of our companies. You are going to do it right away and with secrecy. If anyone comes looking for money, there won’t be any.”
Patterson was not shocked by this demand. Taisha loved their kids and she was a pragmatist at heart. She had been humiliated by his affairs for years and now here she was playing second fiddle to a dead whore. He also understood the request to give part of it to his mother. That was just his mother, always the manipulator.
“Okay, I’ll get the financial people on it,” he said.
“The money on the island, too,” said Taisha flatly.
And now Patterson was shocked. How did she know about that? He’d started that secret fund before they were married. He thought about lying but if she knew, then she’d done her homework.