The Money Game

by Michael A. Smith

  The dilemma of this awful decision caused Richey to begin to panic, so he ordered a double martini to calm himself down. The panic resulted in large part because of the sudden realization that Marshon’s plan filled him with excitement, whereas Carmen’s plan filled him with dread. It was sickeningly true and he hated himself for it, but he didn’t know how he could deny the truth. He really wasn’t a reformer dedicated to Equality and Justice. In a corrupt economic system and a society of cultural kitsch, he really didn’t give a shit whether it was changed or not. Like Skinny and Marshon, he simply wanted to figure an angle that would allow him to get more than his fair share. The rest of humanity could drown in its collective ineptitude and hypocrisy for all he cared. Things were the way they were because of people like him. Honesty hurt like hell, which is why most people avoided it. In his heart or hearts, Richey had already made his choice, even though he’d lied to Carmen and endorsed her proposal. Richey held onto the slim hope that he could persuade Carmen to accompanying him and Marshon to the islands and live the exciting and dangerous life. Odds: ten to one against.

  When Richey tipped up his glass to drain all the vodka that clung to the ice cubes, his eye caught one of the television cameras above the bar. It was the five o’clock local news broadcast. In the upper right hand corner of the screen, over the left shoulder of the blonde announcer was an inset photograph of someone who looked like Marshon Johnson. Then, the photo enlarged to briefly fill the screen and Richey had no doubt that it was his friend.

  The announcer sitting behind a desk told the viewing audience, “The Essex County Sheriff’s Department is looking for this man, identified as Marshon Johnson, a well-known East Side entrepreneur, in connection with a homicide that occurred Tuesday evening. Michael Williams, a partner in the prominent engineering/architectural firm of Williams, Grant and Slocum, was found dead, stuffed inside a cleaning cart. A security guard stopped several janitors who were attempting to remove the body from an office building in Corporate Center.”

  Marshon’s photo dissolved as the TV screen displayed three more photos, side-by-side. “Police have issued warrants for the arrest of these three janitors identified as Alonzo Mayberry, also known by the street name, Widja; his sister-in-law, Angela Dumont; and, Leon Mason. If you’ve seen any of these individuals, police say you should not approach them as they are assumed to be armed and dangerous. Instead, call the crime line number on your screen. The Williams’s family has already announced a fifty thousand dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the murderer or murderers of Michael Williams.”

  The announcer concluded this news item by adding, “Although details are sketchy at this time, Johnson apparently visited Williams’s office the night of the murder, but signed the security register with the alias of André Touissant. Johnson’s true identify came to light after the security guard on duty identified him from photographs of known associates of Alonzo Mayberry. The guard said Johnson had an evening appointment with Michael Williams. Police say Johnson is a person of interest wanted only for questioning at this time. Michael Williams and his firm were selected to design the museum to be built adjacent to the World War One memorial near the downtown area.”

  Richey motioned to John and then asked him, “Have you been watching television throughout the day? Is this the first time they’ve ran that report about this Williams guy getting killed?”

  “I don’t pay the television at lot of attention,” John replied, “but I think I first saw this news report about noon today. It only caught my attention because I remembered that you sometimes work at The Wheel. Your friend is in trouble.”

  Richey couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched the television news. It had been about a week since Richey and Marshon had talked about their plans to launch a renewed and more vibrant private lottery, perhaps in Marshon’s new home in the Caribbean. Richey knew that might not now be in the cards.

  Richey jumped, as someone touch his shoulder and jarred him from his reverie. It was Kandie.

  “Have you seen Ace lately?” she asked, slipping onto the bar stool beside him.

  “No, not since, let’s see, last Friday, I think it was.” He’d given Ace five thousand from Marshon and told him to leave, or deal with Jemmy Shoemaker.

  “He was at my house last night, but I can’t get ahold of him today. He ain’t answering his phone.” Not his regular phone or the burner phone he’d given Kandie.

  “It’s been one day,” Richey said, sarcastically. “Can’t you bear being apart that long?”

  Kandie seemed near tears. “He moved out of his apartment at the middle of the month.”

  “Where’s he been staying?”

  “With me, sometimes. Mostly with Country.”

  “You know where Country lives?”

  She looked at him and choked back tears. “No.”

  Richey shrugged. “I’m sure everything is okay.” He saw that Kandie was hurting and resisted saying anything insensitive about Ace, such as “good riddance to bad rubbish.” Ace had finally hit the road, having used up Kandie while at the same time being $10,000 richer.

  “I just can’t imagine he’d leave town without saying goodbye to me and the kids.” Kandie’s face reflected true sorrow and devastation, just as it had when Sam, the father of her children, had kicked her and them out of his mobile home in southern Missouri. “Ace really liked the kids, Richey, even Lloyd.”

  “I’m sure he did. Your kids are great, Kandie. Really.” Richey motioned to John. “Beer over here for Kandie.”

  “I mean, everything was going great, Richey. At least I thought so. There was just that one thing …” Her voice trailed off.

  Alarm bells went off in Richey’s head. Did the one thing have to do with the killings at The Wheel? “What? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything, Kandie!”

  “You know the trouble we had here with Hank and Melvin that time, when they attacked Ace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t lead Hank on, you know, not after I met Ace. In fact, I was trying to get away from Hank even before then. He used to beat on me.” She sipped from her beer and continued reluctantly, “He raped me a couple of times.”

  “What! Did you call the police?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I agreed in the beginning to date him. I invited him to my home. I even gave him a key.” She put her hand on Richey’s arm. “That was before, you know, he started doing things to me. Then, he wouldn’t give me back the key.”

  “I’m confused. What are you trying to tell me, Kandie? Did Hank and Ace get into it again?”

  She searched his face, as if trying to decide what to tell him. “Yeah, Hank showed up at my apartment last night and he had a gun. Melvin had a baseball bat. Ace and Country beat them up again.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ace and Country took them to the hospital. I ain’t seen or heard from Ace since then. What should I do, Richey?

  Before Richey could provide an answer, someone else tapped him on the shoulder. “You Richey Stanton?”

  Richey turned to look at the two men in suits. The young bull-necked one introduced himself, “I’m Detective Craig Sizemore, Essex County Sheriff’s Department. This is my partner, Detective Cavett.”

  Cavett asked Kandie: “And, are you Kandie Givens?”

  “Yes,” she replied, he voice quaking.

  “The bartender pointed you two out,” Sizemore said. He looked around. “Do you mind if we sit at the table over here and ask you a few questions.”

  “What’s this about?” Richey asked, slipping off the barstool.

  “Just step over here, sir,” Sizemore said, firmly.

  As the four of them walked to the table, all eyes in the bar followed them, although many individuals looked out of the side of their eyes, or over the tops of menus they’d picked up for the first time ever. Cops were in the bar and that always meant trouble for someone. The fear wa
s that the cops would discover other infractions they didn’t know about before they walked into The Stadium. Just to be safe, a few patrons quietly slipped out the back door. Bartender John turned down the music and the television volume.

  After the four of them sat, Kandie asked, in a cracking voice, “What do you want?”

  “We’re investigating the deaths of Hank Hendricks and Melvin Lucas,” Sizemore replied.

  Kandie promptly fainted but Sizemore grabbed her before she could fall out of her chair. Cavett went to the bar and got a towel and ice from John. He returned to the table and held it against Kandie’s right temple. Richey sat motionless until Kandie revived. Then, she appeared about to vomit, and Cavett helped her to the door to the women’s restroom. Every customer in the bar watched them. Their combined whispers sounded like a low volume buzz.

  “Rangers out at Canyon Park found Hendricks and Lucas in the trunk of Hendricks’s car,” Sizemore said, “after it was pulled from the bottom of the lake this morning. A guy fishing on the south shore Tuesday night saw two guys drive the car into the lake.”

  “What do you think happened?” Richey asked, not about to offer any opinion himself.

  “The medical examiner issued a preliminary assessment at the scene. Said it looks like they were badly beaten, put in the trunk, and then stabbed and cut to death,” the cop said, checking his facts in a slim notebook. “The witness saw the two suspects get into a dark-colored pickup, but he didn’t get a good look at it, or a tag number.”

  Richey was starting to understand the reason for Kandie’s fainting spell. “Why did you want to talk to me?” he asked.

  “Your name turned up in our investigation. Lucas’s wife said he’d been in a fight in The Stadium several weeks back. No complaint was filed, so we came down here to talk to the bartender. He told us what had happened. That Hendricks and Lucas got into a fight with Ace Semanski. That you and Ms. Givens were two of the people who saw the fight.”

  Richey looked out the corner of his eyes at John the snitch.

  “You know this Ace Semanski?”

  “Yeah, he and I used to work at Biederman’s. I got fired recently. He quit shortly after that, I think. We’re not really friends, other than hanging out in here. I saw him last Friday.”

  “But you’re friends with Ms. Givens?”

  “She and my girlfriend live in the same apartment complex. They’re friends.”

  Sizemore got out his notebook. “What’s your girlfriend’s name and address?”

  Now Richey knew how John must have felt. There was no profit in lying. He gave the detective Carmen’s name and address.

  “How long have you known Semanski?”

  “Not long. He only moved here about a month ago.”

  “Did you know he was in state prison in Michigan?”

  Richey had guessed as much, but he tried to appear surprised. “What for?”

  “Grand theft. Served nearly three years. He’s got a long rap sheet, especially for assault. Several women have charged him with rape in Illinois and Michigan, but he somehow always beat that charge.”

  Richey needed to cover himself. “I can tell you for a fact that he didn’t report any of those things on his employment application. You can check with Biederman’s.”

  “So what went on here between Hendricks, Lucas, and Semanski?” Cavett asked.

  “There was a fight,” Richey said. “I didn’t see it start because I was at the bar and they were in the pool room. Apparently, Hendricks considered Kandie his private stock. He and his buddy, Lucas, jumped Semanski and broke his collarbone, although he still knocked both of them silly — with the help of his buddy, Robert Long. John the bartender was going to call the cops, but apparently no one wanted that.”

  Kandie returned to the table and she looked somewhat composed, although pale and quivering.

  “You knew Hendricks and Lucas, Ms. Givens?”

  “Yes, I used to date Hank.”

  “And I gather you then started dating Ace Semanski. Hank objected and they got into a fight here, is that right, Ms. Givens?”

  Kandie looked at Richey. “Yes.”

  “And did they fight again?”

  “Not that I know of,” Kandie said, her lower lip trembling noticeably.

  “As I was telling your friend here while you were in the bathroom, Lucas and Hendricks were found dead in the trunk of Hendricks’s car, after it was pulled from a local lake this morning,” Sizemore said.

  Again, Kandie seemed about to faint, but instead laid her head on the table, while Cavett again applied the ice pack to the back of her neck. The detectives waited patiently, during which time they eyed Richey, perhaps searching for telltale facial and eye movements, or expressions that might indicate he was lying or holding something back. Richey returned a steady gaze and tried not to blink or indicate in any way that Kandie had just grossly lied to them about the fight between Ace and Hendricks and Lucas the night the latter two were killed. Richey could easily imagine how it happened. Ace and his knives.

  “Do either one of you know where we can find Ace Semanski?” Cavett asked, after Kandie had raised her head. The combined effects of a perpetual sneer and the widow’s peak gave Cavett a slightly diabolical appearance.

  Both Richey and Kandie shook their heads.

  “When was the last time either of you saw Semanski?” Sizemore asked.

  “He was at my place Sunday for dinner,” Kandie said. “I haven’t seen him since them.”

  “Anyone with him?”

  “Robert Long,” Kandie answered. “Everyone calls him Country.”

  “And you, Mr. Stanton?”

  “Like I told you, last Friday. In fact, he came by and shook my hand. Said he was leaving town. I don’t think he’s been in here since then, but you should ask John.” Richey perversely enjoyed lobbing the ball back to the barkeep.

  “And where were the two of you Tuesday night?” Cavett asked.

  Kandie said, “I worked during the day and was home alone that evening with my three kids.”

  “I was at a rehearsal Tuesday night at the Eastport Library until about eleven. I’m playing Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman. It’s opening Friday night at the downtown mall.” Richey handed a business card to Sizemore. “This guy is the director. You can reach him at that number.”

  Sizemore slid his notebook in front of Kandie. “Write down Semanski’s address and phone number, if you will. Also, Robert Long’s address.”

  “I don’t know where Country lives,” Kandie said, while writing. “And, Ace gave notice at his apartment a couple of weeks ago. But, this is the address where he used to live.”

  “Check with Biederman’s,” Richey offered. “Country used to work there, too.”

  Sizemore pocketed his notebook, stood and said, “That’s for your cooperation.” He placed a business card in front of each of them. “If you remember anything else, or see Semanski, give me a call.”

  After they went out the door, Richey leaned across the table and whispered, “You lied to them!”

  “Did Ace really tell you he was leaving town?” Kandie demanded, equally indignant.

  Suddenly, it occurred to Richey that he didn’t want Kandie to confide in him. He didn’t want to know the details of the fight last night and how badly Hank and Melvin were injured. Or, how they got from going to the hospital to the bottom of a lake. He bolted from the table and headed to his car in the parking lot.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Richey didn’t perform well during the dress rehearsal of Death of a Salesman, but not because he was half-drunk. He was fully sober, but a multilevel, confusing discourse filled his mind. What should he do about Marshon and his problems? He wanted to contact him, but that might not be a good idea. The cops might be listening in on Marshon’s cell phone calls. Richey would then be linked to two suspected killers. What if the police arrested Ace and he brought up the killings at The Wheel so he could make a deal? What if Widja and his friends also turned
on Marshon? Was Marshon’s Proposal to Richey now off the table, or would Marshon somehow escape to his secret Caribbean home? Would he contact Richey later? What should Richey do now about Carmen’s Offer? Such selfish considerations make him feel guilty.

  As a result, Richey got the words he was rehearsing in his mind for future conversations with Marshon, Jemmy, Carmen and the cops mixed up with Willy Loman’s lines. He mangled the script so badly, the boy director nearly had a stroke, and inquired whether Richey was sick and/or incapacitated. Did he want the understudy to step in at the last minute?

  Richey finally said to the director, “Look, I had some very bad news this afternoon about a couple of close friends who got killed.” Three killings actually, all on the same night. His best friend was a suspect in one of the deaths, and he knew two of the three dead men. What were the odds of that?

  “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” the director exclaimed.

  “I’ll be okay Friday night,” Richey said, walking away. He wasn’t even certain why he made up this excuse, or what purpose the half-truth served. He just didn’t want to give up his role in the play, too. He couldn’t stand to lose everything, all at once.

  As they walked down the hallway toward the parking garage, Carmen, who had watched the rehearsal from the back of the hall, asked the same question: “Is something wrong?”

  He stopped walking and faced her. “Yes, the cops are looking for Ace Semanski. They think he may have killed Melvin Lucas and Hank Hendricks. The police found their bodies this morning in Hank’s car, after they pulled it from the bottom of the lake at Canyon Park. Kandie admitted to me this afternoon that Ace and Country fought with them at her apartment Tuesday night, but that Ace was taking Hank and Melvin to the hospital. However, she lied to two detectives who questioned us in The Stadium and told them she’d been home alone — and hadn’t seen Ace since Sunday.”