Tammy’s face crinkled like a child fearing an impending ass whipping.
“How many times have you been in contact with him?”
“Twice. Once just before we left Wyoming. He wanted my banking info to transfer some money.”
“Really? Well, for my own information, how much is your betrayal worth exactly?”
Tammy shook her head.
“How much?”
“$20,000.”
“That much, huh? You’re an expensive traitor.”
“Sabath—“
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Today.”
“When you were in the bathroom?”
Tammy choked back tears. It hurt to talk. She nodded.
“Does he know where we are?”
Tammy nodded again, feeling Sabathany’s heeled foot landing on her left shin to complete the torture. She felt something both wet and warm trickling down her leg.
Sabathany shook her head, genuinely disappointed. “How could you do this to me? You know I have trust issues.”
“He told me you were talking shit about me.”
“Aw, bitch, please. That’s no excuse! You know, I was really hoping I’d be able to make it to Mexico without any more drama. Looks like you brought the drama right to San Diego.”
“What are you going to do?” Tammy cried.
“Well, now that you’ve got him after my ass, I’m gonna have to get out of dodge pretty fast.”
“I meant to me,” Tammy said meekly.
“Come on, you know perfectly well what I’m going to do to you.”
Tammy erupted into loud sobbing.
“Don’t bother crying the blues. That doesn’t work with me.” She slid the remainder of Tammy’s dessert toward her. “Here, you may as well finish it. And don’t worry about dinner. I got it. It’s the least I can do.”
FORTY-ONE
The eulogy for Paris Black was held the next day in the church she grew up in, a dilapidated structure, made of white stucco and brown wood. The church brought back memories for Kendrick—first Sunday potlucks, guest preachers, baptisms and weddings.
For two hours, family and friends packed the main chapel. It warmed Diane’s heart to know her daughter lived in a space of immense love, with the hundreds of people decked out in colorful and unusual outfits in celebration of Paris’s colorful life.
Several people got up to offer their accounts of the woman whose life was taken tragically. The pastor finished with a prayer, then motioned to the small choir. They sang one of Paris’s favorite hymns, “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” The family walked out, followed by the pallbearers holding up the casket to load into the hearse.
Only immediate family and friends went to the cemetery. As the group stood near the six feet of partially frozen burial ground, watching Paris’s casket being lowered into the earth, Brenda held Kendrick’s hand. He went along with it, inwardly wanting to flick her hand away. Kendrick kept his eyes focused on the burial, while in his periphery Brenda focused on him.
When the group dispersed, Kendrick felt his phone vibrate. A text message appeared on the screen. “Deals off. Say goodbye to freedom!”
Kendrick looked up from the text into the starkness of everything around him. The white, sunless skies and the snow bleached everything out. His crestfallen face changed to fear. Brenda noticed the switch.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her gaze fell to the phone, then back to Kendrick.
Kendrick handed the phone to Brenda. Tension edged the outlines of his face.
Brenda read the text. “Who sent this?”
“Sabathany.”
The two moved away from the gravesite.
“What does it mean?” Brenda asked.
“After I told her I knew she had her mother killed, we agreed she wouldn’t say anything about Kayla. She must’ve found out that I was keeping tabs on her.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“It is a threat.”
“But, is she just blowing smoke, or is this something we need to be concerned about?”
Kendrick did not say anything.
“Kenny?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer. If she’s going to tell on you then we have to deal with the situation head on.”
“I’m already up to my eyeballs in trouble. I don’t need anything else to have the cops coming after me for.”
“Where is she now?”
“The Rising Sun Hotel and Spa in La Jolla. But her friend said she’s going to be making a move across the border soon.”
“Yeah, especially now that she knows you’ve been spying on her.”
“I only did it because I didn’t trust her.”
“Okay, we’ve got to get back to L.A. right away. I’ll charter a plane and we’ll leave tonight.”
“No, I can’t leave my family like this.”
Brenda sighed. “You don’t know what Sabathany’s told the cops. They could be looking for you as we speak.”
“I don’t care. I need to be here for my family. I’m going to head back to their house. Take the key and go back to my apartment.”
Brenda sighed a second time, more forcefully, pushing her swirling breath into the cold air. “Don’t you want me to come with you?”
Without answering, Kendrick headed back to the remaining family standing at the grave.
“Will I see you tonight?”
There was still no answer.
FORTY-TWO
Lenox sat across from Detectives VanDrunen and Ramirez, noting the conspiratorial smirks on their lips.
“Did you get some rest?” VanDrunen asked.
“Not even a little bit,” Lenox said.
“We paid your wife a visit this morning. How do you think that went?” VanDrunen asked.
Lenox shrugged.
“We figured she might be a character witness on your behalf.”
“For real?”
“Yep. She was very gracious. Offered us coffee.”
Lenox smiled, recognizing the trait of generosity in his wife.
“I asked her about the day Paris came by the house.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that Paris was very confrontational. I asked her if she thought you killed Paris.”
Lenox squinted. There was something in VanDrunen’s tone, and it matched the I know something you don’t expression on his face. “I know she didn’t say yeah.”
VanDrunen shrugged. “She didn’t have to say anything. We found your DNA all over the apartment.”
Ramirez said, “But, your wife did say you were in a rage after Paris left.”
Lenox sat up in his chair. “That’s because she came to my house starting all kinds of static. You’d be in a rage, too!”
“Did you kill Paris?”
“I already told you no. And, I already told you who to look for. Sabathany killed her. Why else was she so hot to get outta town after I asked her about going to Paris’s place?”
VanDrunen cleared his throat and said, “I guess we’ll never know. But I can tell you that your wife was full of surprises.”
Lenox rolled his eyes. “Man, just say what you gotta say, and quit playing games!”
VanDrunen smiled. “You know what? I’m back in my wife’s good graces, which means I’m in a really good mood. So much so, that I’m not going to take issue with your tone. After all, you seem to have forgotten that you’re addressing an officer of the law,” he said, the smile fading to dead seriousness.
Ramirez took over. “Mr. Hunter, your wife killed Paris.”
“What?”
Ramirez nodded. “She went over to Paris’s apartment in the middle of the night while your children slept, and she stabbed Paris forty-one times. Then, she severed Paris’s male genitalia. Now, your wife may have you snowed with the whole innocent routine, but today when we were at your house, your little boy came running from another room swinging a plastic grocer
y bag in his hand. When he tripped, and fell, a carving knife fell out of the bag and spun across the floor with enough DNA on it to match Paris’s.”
“And she confessed?”
“Yes.”
Lenox sank to his knees and clasped his hands together. He looked thankful.
VanDrunen tapped his pen against the edge of the interrogation table. “You don’t seem too broken up by it, or Paris’s death.”
“As far as Paris’s concerned, I cried all the tears I’m gonna. Yes, there was a time when I loved her, but she showed me what kind of a person she was when she couldn’t get her way. She didn’t deserve what Ashley did to her. My wife is clearly sick for doing what she did. But, I ain’t gonna lie, I’m glad you know that I’m no murderer.”
Ramirez said,” I think that officially clears you from this case.”
Lenox stood up excitedly. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Guess that means I get to go home to my kids now.”
“I’m afraid we’re not quite done yet.”
Lenox looked perplexed. “We’re not?”
“Not by a longshot,” VanDrunen said, staring coldly.
Lenox lowered himself back into his seat. “Then what else is there?”
“I’m glad you asked. You know about the little girl who was run down by the car?”
“I heard about it.”
“Then, I imagine you’d like to see whoever was responsible brought to justice, right?”
Lenox just stared.
“Fortunately, when you’ve been doing this job for as long as we have, you get really good at what you do. See, we know what vehicle was involved in running down Kayla Jones, and we know the name to whom it was registered. Any idea who that could be?”
Lenox continued to stare, but said nothing.
“Not one guess? All right, it was your buddy, Kendrick Black. Now, I bet you’re thinking, ‘So what? There’s a whole bunch of people who own a 2013 black Escalade.’ And you’d be right. The thing is, there’s only one that was reported stolen on October 13th, the day Kayla was killed.”
Lenox began to squirm. A flush of heat overwhelmed his face.
VanDrunen rose from his chair, his eyes twinkled. “Oh, but it gets better. We were able to check the 911 and cell phone records. Both show the call originated from your cell phone.”
“Who stole the car, Lenox?” Ramirez asked.
Lenox dropped his face into his hands. He could smell the trouble he was in. He thought about the $50,000 he took from Kendrick sitting in his account, and how he intended to keep it.
“Look, you already know who killed that little girl,” he said.
The two detectives smiled at one another before Ramirez said, “Yes, but we don’t have proof. You want us to believe the car was supposedly stolen? All right. How do we know you weren’t the one who stole it and hit Kayla?”
“You know that’s not how it went.”
“Okay, tell us how it went. Give us the proof we need.”
Lenox swallowed hard. “If I talk, what do I get in return?”
VanDrunen smiled. “We’ll get to that, but first you gotta give us what we want.”
FORTY-THREE
Kendrick felt the comforter slide creepily away from his body. He opened his eyes to find Kayla standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes glimmering like a feline at night.
“What do you want?” Kendrick asked.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mister. You should’ve turned yourself in.”
Kendrick was struck with how different Kayla’s voice sounded. It was like a grown woman’s, only her body was still that of a young girl. “You know that’s not possible. Why do you think I gave your parents $2,000,000 of my money?”
Kayla’s eyes hardened. “You know what? I think I’m going to enjoy making your life a living hell.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I gave your parents money! I understand the money can never replace you, but it’s a start!”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn yourself in.”
“I can’t! What don’t you understand about that?”
Kayla shrugged her soiled pink shoulders. “Okay, have it your way. Just remember this, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you…and it’s coming soon!” Kayla stepped back into the dark of the room as Kendrick’s cell phone rang. The ringing was distant at first, becoming louder and louder…
Kendrick’s cell phone woke him from the dream. He found himself in his old bedroom at his parents’ house. “I’m leaving now,” he answered, knowing who it was.
“Why didn’t you come home last night?” Brenda sounded restless.
“We drank all night, and I decided to stay put.”
“Yeah, but you could’ve called to let me know.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let me say my goodbyes.”
“Good. I’ll send the car for you.”
“Okay.”
“It should be there within the hour.”
“Fine.”
“And just so you know, Kendrick Black, there’s going to be some changes when we get back to L.A.”
“Okay, whatever that means.”
Kendrick got up and put on his clothes. The smell of fresh coffee enticed him downstairs. As he descended the stairs, the toasty warmth of the house reminded him of winters from his childhood.
He found his mother in the kitchen, humming along to Ella Fitzgerald singing “Something’s Gotta Give.” The moment she laid eyes on him, she smiled the smile of a proud mother. Kendrick had never seen her look at any of her other children the same way, and he knew at least a few of his siblings resented him for it.
“That Brenda woman is nice. Too bad she couldn’t come by the house to visit for a bit,” Diane said.
“She’s okay.”
“Uh oh.”
“What, uh oh? We’re taking things slow,” Kendrick said.
“She’s better than that girl you brought a couple of months ago.”
Not really, Kendrick thought.
Diane put down her coffee mug and moved closer to her son. “You make me so proud. I know I ain’t supposed to say this, but I will. You’re my favorite.”
“Mama!”
“What, you think your daddy is the only one who can have a favorite?”
“You mean Alvin?”
Diane nodded. “Both of you had a dream, but you were the one that got the hell outta here to go claim it. And, while it made me sad to see you go, you’ve done well for yourself. How can I not be proud of that?” Her eyes rippled like an otherwise still lake.
Kendrick took his mother’s hands. “Mama, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t carry on like you do. The other kids hate me for it.”
“Honey, I love every one of my children. But, you’re special, and you made something good out of what God gave you. I admire that. I wish I had followed my dreams, but then if I had, I wouldn’t have had my wonderful family. I wouldn’t change that for nothin’!” Tears fell from her morning eyes. “And, for the record, you’re not my only favorite, you know? I have a lot of respect for Paris being who she felt she was meant to be. A lot of people don’t understand that sort of thing. But she had her family’s support…well, except from your father.”
Kendrick stared at his mother. He wondered if she would still love him if she knew what he did. He uttered I killed Kayla Jones in his mind, hearing the words hover above him in an echo. He envisioned the morphing of his mother’s face from brief incredulity to rage. And he could almost feel the thud of her balled fists against his chest as though they were meat tenderizing mallets.
“That was really nice what you did for that poor couple. I know they had to be out of their minds,” Diane said, breaking Kendrick’s internal story. “And I hope whoever did this rots in hell. I can’t believe a person like that can lay their head down at night.”
“It was an accident,” Kendrick said absently.
“If it was an accident then they should’ve taken their ass to the po
lice.”
“You’re right, Mama,” he said, extinguishing the beginnings to an argument. “You’re right.”
Kendrick pulled at the gooey cinnamon roll his mother placed before him, drifting into silence. He already said too much.
Diane spoke about the relationship problems Alex was having with his wife. Kendrick listened, but offered no opinion. As he finished the last morsel of the roll, the theme to The A-Team sounded from his phone.
“Yeah?” he answered, wiping away the stickiness from his fingers.
“Mr. Black, I’m outside when you’re ready, sir,” the driver said.
“Okay. Be out in a sec.”
Kendrick ended the call and turned to his mother. He could tell from the sadness on her face that she knew it was time for him to go.
“You be safe. Call me first thing when you get back to California, ya hear?” Diane said, helping him fasten his coat.
“I think I can handle my coat.”
“I know it. You’re thirty-years-old, but sometimes I still see you as a little boy. Ain’t that nothin’?”
Kendrick smiled. “Yeah, and you loved me even when I was bad, right?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course, I did.”
“That’s good to know. Try and remember that when my name is all over the tabloids one of these days,” he said.
Diane looked mildly concerned. “Why, what happened?”
“Nothing. Just saying.”
FORTY-FOUR
When Kendrick returned to the penthouse, he found Brenda in the bathroom, putting cosmetics into a transparent case. He stood in the doorway, expecting the silent treatment as punishment for staying out all night, but she had a piece of news for him.
“Just got off the phone with the studio. They’re greenlighting a project where you’ll play opposite Kevin Hart as his younger brother. His character needs a kidney transplant, and yours is a match, but there’s bad blood between you. They said they’ll give you ten to do it!”
Kendrick grinned. “Don’t play. Ten million dollars?”
“Yep. Now, bear in mind, it’s not what Kevin is probably gonna get, but now you can only go up from here. No more six-figure deals.”
The Best Possible Angle Page 23