Citycide

by Gary Hardwick

  Jangle, like many other dealers, worshipped Salah who had terrorized Detroit as Gregory Cane. He and Salah had bonded after he created a tribute website. They communicated through the prison ministry where Salah posted messages. Jangle had even gone to visit him once and had come back from Ionia shaken and determined never to go to prison.

  He had also come back with a way to talk freely to the big man. A guard Salah had paid off had given the instructions to him.

  And now Salah had posted a message to him, a response to a message Jangle had already left. As usual, it was a long message, filled with religious references and digression. Jangle took it all down then began to decipher it.

  It took a while. The procedure was difficult but Jangle had mastered it over time. The message was clear. That cop, the same cop that killed Rakeif was going after iDT and Salah wanted Jangle to warn him.

  He had to play this just right, he thought. If he didn’t warn iDT, he didn’t know what the fallout would be.

  Jangle sent back a message, just thanking Salah and saying he was grateful. That meant he would do what he had to do but he made no promises.

  

  Danny watched the prison ministry website from his laptop waiting for something from Salah. Jesse King had given him a special access code so he could monitor Salah. Finding a criminal to catch another was not his favorite way to investigate but it was all he had right now.

  He’d left a voice message for Marshall saying he wanted to talk. But Marshall had not responded. Hiring him was definitely a tactical move by the Mayor.

  Danny dreaded being on a witness stand in front of his friend. Marshall was an expert at cross-examination and he knew everything about Danny.

  If he caught the killer, it wouldn’t come to that, he thought. Suddenly, he saw Salah’s post. It went to a man named Dumartin Kingston. The prison didn’t allow aliases or anonymity. Danny wrote down the name and would research it later.

  He read Salah’s post twice and got nothing from it. It was a lengthy digression with religion references and boasting. If it was code, it was a good one, he thought.

  Danny suddenly resented convicts. Sitting around, living off the public with nothing to do but think up coded messages to send to other criminals to fuck with decent people.

  He copied the message and Kingston’s reply and would run it by Jesse King as soon as he could.

  He heard keys in the door an hour later as Vinny came home. It was the weekend and she was working late as usual. When she got pregnant, there would be no more of that, he thought. He was about to call out then suddenly; he heard a familiar voice from the other room.

  “Marshall?” Danny intoned.

  Marshall Jackson walked into the kitchen and said hello to Danny.

  “I suspect you two have a lot to talk about,” said Vinny. “I ate at work so I’ll be—“

  “No, I want you here,” said Danny. “Everybody sit.”

  “You sure about this?” asked Marshall.

  “Yes,” said Danny. He didn’t want to shut Vinny out of this. This wasn’t about the case; this was a family issue.

  “Great,” said Vinny. “I love big boy talk.”

  Danny broke out three beers and they all drank. He didn’t know why Marshall had come or how long he’d been outside the house. But this was necessary for both of them.

  “You should quit the case,” said Danny. “Patterson is dirty. I can feel it and he only hired you to intimidate me.”

  “I did get him off in the Weeks case,” said Marshall. “It made sense to bring me back.”

  “But Patterson also put several top attorneys on retainer including our criminal specialist at JFK,” said Vinny. “That’s definitely a move.”

  “A guilty one,” said Danny. “He’s making sure any opposition is weakened.”

  “It’s business,” said Marshall. “Look, I have to defend him. If I don’t, he can make things hard on me in Detroit.”

  “Not if his ass is in jail,” said Danny. “Listen man, you don’t have to be one of his stooges. You’re too good for that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Vinny cringe.

  “Stooge?” asked Marshall with a little hurt in his voice. “Is that what you think I am?”

  “If you let him play you like this, yes,” said Danny. “He’s hoping you’ll put money and business over friendship, over justice.”

  Marshall turned to Vinny. “Vin, help me out here. You’re an attorney. Tell him how it is.”

  “He knows how it is, Marshall,” said Vinny. “He doesn’t care. It’s part of his charm.”

  “I’m an attorney,” said Marshall. “I’ve defended lowlives from all walks of life. Patterson is not a lowlife but I should deny him my services because it irritates you?”

  “Then why come here?” asked Danny.

  “Because you’re my friend!” said Marshall too loudly. “And I know you don’t understand these things,” he calmed his voice. “I know you see things in very simple terms but the world is not like that.”

  “So, now I’m a stooge,” said Danny.

  “Takes one to know one,” said Vinny trying to keep the mood light. No one laughed and she cleared her throat nervously.

  “So you’re going to subpoena me and the whole nine?” asked Danny.

  “I’m sorry,” said Marshall, “I’ll have to.”

  “Well, maybe you won’t have to,” said Vinny.

  Marshall and Danny both cautioned Vinny to stop talking. She was amongst friends and had forgotten her training.

  “I don’t want to know anything concerning the case,” said Marshall. “That’s why I’ve been scarce lately.”

  “Sorry,” said Vinny. “Rookie mistake.”

  “Besides, I know Danny’s work habits,” said Marshall. “Unfortunately, everybody does.”

  “Then you know I’m never wrong about these things,” said Danny. “You know I can smell a murderer a mile away.”

  Marshall didn’t answer. He just looked at his friend with something like compassion. They’d grown up together but Marshall was always more intelligent, always destined for greater things in life. Danny had accepted this in part because there was nothing he could do about it but mostly because he loved the man.

  “We just got a call from Michelle Romano, the indictment’s coming for perjury and Valerie Weeks is filing a new case in light of the new evidence.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you soon,” said Danny. “From across the table.”

  “Is Michelle doing the case herself?” Vinny asked Marshall.

  “No,” Danny answered. “It’s a guy named Jesse King.”

  Marshall was silenced and a look of surprise and concern came over his face. Danny noticed this and then he himself was surprised. He’d never seen Marshall react that way to any opposing lawyer.

  “Really,” said Marshall. “He’s good.”

  “Very good, I hear,” said Vinny.

  “Why are you afraid of him?” asked Danny. “I saw that look.”

  “It’s not fear,” said Marshall. “I just… we don’t get along, that’s all. I said some unflattering things when he was suspected in a case. Also, he used to date Chemin before we got married.”

  “Whoa,” said Vinny laughing. “This is going to be better than Basketball Wives.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Danny. “The old Marshall wouldn’t take this case. He was bigger than politics and money and all this shit. He just wanted to do the right thing.”

  “The old Marshall didn’t have kids,” said Marshall. “And now he’s not the most important thing in his life.”

  Danny couldn’t say anything. He certainly knew the feeling, well, at least as much as he could as a potential father. He nodded a little at Marshall and the battle lines between them were blurred just a little.

  Although Danny felt their friendship would last, this was the kind of thing that could damage it, crack it in a way it could never be healed. It could always be a sore spo
t between them, the kind of thing that came up when someone had too much to drink at a party. He didn’t want that and he guessed Marshall didn’t either.

  “We’re having a baby,” said Vinny suddenly. She smiled at Danny.

  “We just started,” said Danny.

  “I know,” said Marshall. “Chemin told me. I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “What is it with you women?” said Danny. “Can’t keep any secret that has anything to do with sex. Damn.”

  “No,” said Vinny. “I told her we were trying. I’m telling you now, I am.”

  Danny was across the table before he knew it. He kissed her. “Okay, no more of this late work stuff. We can’t have you all stressed out.”

  Suddenly, he heard Marshall congratulate them and there were more hugs all around. Marshall’s grip was very tight and Danny wondered if his friend was sensing the same danger to their friendship that he was.

  “Well, this is a good time for me to leave,” said Marshall. “You two, I mean, you three take care.”

  Marshall went to the door and left. Danny knew he’d tell Chemin and then there would be a phone call and the women would talk about everything.

  Danny just stared at her after he was gone. “Just like that you blurt it out?”

  “Wasn’t sure until this afternoon. I was going to tell you later in bed. Sorry, but you two were about to go at it. Seemed like the perfect thing for all of us.”

  “Maybe,” said Danny and he hugged her again. “Nice to know my boys are working. So, we should talk about how things are gonna change.”

  “Yeah,” said Vinny. “Looks like a much bigger mountain up close.”

  Marshall must have called from his car, because two minutes later, the phone rang and it was Chemin. Vinny answered. Danny could hear her excited voice over the phone.

  “Chemin, let me call you back, girl.”

  “Take it, “ Danny said.

  Chemin insisted on talking to Danny to congratulate him. Then Vinny walked out talking excitedly and Danny went back to his laptop.

  Normally, he would have celebrated with Marshall but that ship had sailed for now. He thought about calling Erik or some of the other cops from the precinct but there would be plenty of time for that in the days to come.

  Danny sat down at the table and heaved a sigh. It was done and there was no going back. He tried to get back to the case but all he could think about was the baby.

  He was about to call Erik and tell him the news, when Vinny appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but a playful smile.

  “Since I’m knocked up,” she said. “It’s all good for a while. Come on, Dad.”

  She moved off to the bedroom and Danny raced to catch her.

  

  Danny sat in American Coney Island the next day, still staring at the coded message. He’d been on the Internet looking up codes and puzzles, trying to find a solution.

  He’d tried looking up the bible passages to see if the verse numbers corresponded to anything but he couldn’t put it together. All he‘d done was given himself a headache.

  “You need to be planning a wedding, instead of worrying about some lowlife,” said Erik next to him.

  Danny had called Erik first thing and told him the good news.

  “That case really is closed,” said Danny. “Hey, I got a text message from Baker, the strip club guy.” Danny was hoping to change the subject.

  “What did that clown want?” asked Erik.

  “He was contacted by our hair thieves. Apparently, they have new product to sell.”

  “Give that shit to theft or something,” said Erik. “I didn’t graduate to homicide to be doing that kinda light work.”

  “I’ll send it down later.”

  “Man, we should have waited to get a seat next door,” said Erik. “The dogs are better.”

  “For the last time, “ said Danny. “It’s the same damned food. It’s just got a different name.”

  Lafayette and American Coney Island restaurants sat next door to each other downtown. Both had great food and it was an eternal argument as to which one was better.

  Danny sighed in frustration. “Salah’s got a code, I just know it. I just can’t figure it out.”

  “Look man,” said Erik. “You’re smart but this ain’t your kinda smart. You’d have to be some kind of goddamned math professor to figure this shit out.

  “Yeah,” said Danny. “Numbers.“ Danny made a phone call and seconds later, Reebah, the hacker, answered.

  “Hello,” she said sounding tired.

  “Sorry to wake you, Reebah. It’s Detective Cavanaugh.

  “Her?” said Erik. “That girl ain’t no professor.”

  “Numbers,” said Danny to Erik. “She knows numbers.”

  “I was just dozing a little,” said Reebah on the phone. “Working on some crazy ass encryption switching program for the feds. Wicked shit, man.”

  “I have a problem,” Danny began. “If a man was writing something in code with just words, how would he do it?”

  “Code? Any numbers in the transmission?”

  “Some,” said Danny, “Bible verse numbers but not many.”

  “Well, all language has a numerical sequence just like computer code,” said Reebah. “Numbers are the first, true language. All you’d need is a key, a way to tell which words to use by a corresponding number, classification or sequence.”

  “What?” said Danny. “Say that shit again, slower.”

  Erik laughed and Danny waved at him to be quiet.

  Reebah sighed. “Man, you cops need to take some math classes. Okay, say you got a sentence like, ‘I like walking to the grocery store on Sunday.’ But the thing you want to transmit in code is ‘I like Sunday.’ There are nine words in that sentence. So, I’d give you a key number, 129 for the first, second and ninth numbers.”

  “I see,” said Danny and I could repeat that over and over?

  “Yes theoretically,” said Reebah yawning. “Once you got to the end, you just mark the corresponding words over again. And it usually excludes any numbers in the coded message. It’s complicated if you go past a nine number key then you’d have to leave out zero as a digit. But the actual message surrounding the code would probably be kinda jumbled and incoherent.”

  “Yes,” said Danny. “It is. All I have to do is find a number that’s special to this scumbag.”

  Danny looked back at the message again and saw Salah’s name followed by his prison number. He remembered Salah’s words:

  “You reduced me to a number but I made that number a man.”

  “Thank you, Reebah, I owe you another one,” said Danny.

  “Danny Cavanaugh, racking up the debt,” Reebah laughed. “Bye.”

  Danny hung up the phone then went back to the message.

  “You got it?” asked Erik

  “Maybe,” said Danny. “Salah’s prison number is 6965388541. “The message is rambling, but that’s not the purpose of it. It ‘s the sequence corresponding to his prison number.

  “Hmm,” said Erik. “Reebah is smart. You know, I think the fries are better at this restaurant.”

  Danny ignored the comment, then started taking the words corresponding to the numbers in Salah’s prisoner number and sure enough, they made sense when put together.

  “Salah must have written the message out, then filled in the nonsense around it,” said Danny. He read the message to Erik:

  Dear brother, your man is in trouble. A blue man is after him. Warn him until it all blows over. I admire him. He is wise. Do not sleep on this blue man. I sense trouble in him.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Erik. “I will just be damned.”“Kingston probably has a record and so it should be easy to find him,” said Danny. “Let’s get on his ass and close this case.”

  23

  INDICTMENT

  Mayor D’Andre Patterson walked into the crowded courtroom. He had just a little dip in his walk and just a little swagger in his the stri
de. He was confident and he wanted everyone to know it.

  The room was filled with city officials, court watchers and media. They lined the walls and pointed their cameras his way. He was genial, shaking hands and pointing to familiar faces. He did flinch a little when he saw CNN on a man’s camera but no one noticed.

  Outside, in front of the courthouse, there was a massive crowd that had overflowed onto St. Antoine Street. The police had to control the throng and maneuvered them onto either side of the street.

  Patterson could have stopped the hearing from being televised but he and his family had decided it would be a mistake. The city wanted this soap opera and if he denied it, it would just make things worse. But if this was a media circus, he was determined not to be their clown.

  When the indictment came down, both newspapers had run stories but what had hurt him deeply were the ones that ran on the front page of the New York Times, USA Today and the Washington Post. Detroit was a constant national joke and he had just added another terrible punchline.

  Patterson was wearing a new suit and had a fresh haircut, shave and manicure. His attorney had told him that it was important for him to look good, calm and serene.

  He stopped and said hello to Yvette Riddeaux who sat next to Taisha and Tony Hill. Next to those three, were his mother and father. His brother Ahmad was conspicuously missing. Patterson wondered why but then remembered Ahmad hated crowds.

  Marshall Jackson and another attorney named David Van Buren flanked Patterson. Van Buren was a former trial lawyer, professor and federal court judge and had a lot of respect in the legal community.

  Marshall told Patterson that Van Buren was a strategist but Patterson knew Van Buren was an image to make him seem more important and respected. He welcomed it.

  “You sit in the middle,” said Marshall, “and remember, look Presidential.”

  “Always,” said Patterson.

  Jesse King walked in with some prosecutor types and sat opposite them. No sign of Michelle Romano, thought Patterson. Just like her, he thought. He was disappointed to see Jesse had taken the case. He had been on his allies list. Not any more, Patterson thought dimly.