Chapter 25
Thursday couldn’t have come quick enough. The plan was to put in a good day’s work at the shop, then go over to the Screen on the Green. We didn’t know who we were dealing with so we had to be extra careful. The only thing we knew about the person who asked to meet Tavious was that they were using a dead woman’s Facebook account. This could have been our break as to who killed Amara and stole the two million. Of course this was one of the times that I was happy that I took the time to go get my permit to carry. The decision was made early on that we were not going to do anything by force. That was not even in the cards. We just wanted to get contact and an address, and find the money before turning the killer over to the police, so that Tavious could stay a free man.
When we arrived we positioned ourselves in the back of the seating arrangements so that Tavious could stand and walk around the setup in the park. The whole night was strange because we were waiting for someone we didn’t know, and we didn’t know when they would show up. After an hour after the movie started it became dark. When Tavious walked back in our direction he gave me a look of confusion. Rossi and Rita were on the phone as scheduled every ten to fifteen minutes wondering what was happening as well. Lauren knew the movie playing had only thirty or so minutes left. When the movie ended there was no one there to meet Tavious.
We packed it up and went back to my place.
“What the hell was that, man?” Tavious said as I poured him a drink.
“Somebody is messing with you,” Rossi said.
“But who?’ Lauren questioned.
“I don’t know, but whoever it is just pissed me off,” I told them.
“You?” Tavious said. “I wanted to stop every person who looked at me and ask them their name.”
“Uh-ooooh . . .” we heard Rita sing.
Lauren walked over to her to find out what was going on.
“It’s our friend on Facebook again,” Rita told her.
We all gathered around and read the screen.
You look good in red. J Meet me at the Waffle House in Hapeville in thirty minutes.
Rita didn’t wait for anyone to tell her what to type this time. She asked the person on the other end who they were, but didn’t get an answer. Rossi knew Hapeville all too well. Years ago before I met him, it was the exact spot where he found himself in a heap of trouble working with the police in a drug sting operation. It was getting a bit too late so we asked our ladies to stay behind in case there was trouble. Rita said she would monitor the computer and Lauren would wait by the phone to hear back from me.
I had a reason not to like Rossi’s German piece-of-shit BMW and I told him so. It wasn’t made in America. And it helped put lots of skilled workers in the street. Matter of fact, a Ford plant in Hapeville that we were about to pass had been shut down just years before. But I had to give the Beemer props. That freaking car was a beast on the road and Rossi boasted about it the entire way. We were at our location in fifteen minutes, sitting outside in the parking lot, looking into the Waffle House. Rossi was going to stay behind the wheel of the car, keep it running just in case we would need a quick getaway. I went inside with Tavious with my Black Widow revolver in my pants pocket.
When we walked inside there was no mistaking by the aroma that the grill was hot and at the ready. We tried to leave space between us as we walked in but it was almost impossible. The establishment was very small and we scanned the restaurant as best as we could. There was a couple sitting on the right-hand side next to a window. Both had coffee.
Another couple on the opposite side of them was giving their order to the waitress. A woman was sitting at the counter with her back toward us. And a white man was all the way to the back of the diner with a glass of water sitting in front of him, staring at us. He had a scruffy beard. He was wearing a tan jacket. I noticed his hands were under the table. For some reason he kept his eyes on us. We agreed with our eyes that he was the person we were there to see. I walked behind Tavious with my hand close to my pocket where Ms. Widow sat. When we were just a few steps from the man the woman sitting at the barstool with her back to us turned around and grabbed Tavious by his arm.
“Hey, son,” she said.
Chapter 26
Seconds later the entire Waffle House parking lot was filled with police cars. Swirling emergency lights were illuminating and officers vaulted out of their cars. It happened quickly but I noticed a man in blue yank Rossi out of his car as I looked out the large restaurant window. The police were wild and reckless as though they were having a bad-ass night. They stormed inside. In seconds I was in handcuffs along with Tavious. We were headed to the police station. It was so close to the restaurant that they could have walked us there instead of throwing us in the back seats of their cruisers.
We were all taken to different rooms. They took the cuffs off me. Made me sit down in a hot cinderblock room painted in gray. I could faintly hear the officers say Rossi’s name before they shut my door. A few seconds later I hear Rossi tell them to all kiss his ass as they walk past my room. I was more pissed than anything because when I told a young officer, after he asked if I had anything in my pockets, that I had a pistol, he pushed my head down on a Waffle House table. He was trying to receive points from fellow officers who kept calling him rookie.
After about thirty minutes of sitting alone in the rank room that someone had relieved themselves in, Williams, the black officer who came into my office with no sense, walked in. He passed by my chair and faced a concrete wall. His boy Gus was close behind.
“What’s wrong, your boyfriend, Gus, on his cycle?” I asked him.
He turned around, exhaled, then put his index finger over his lips.
I looked at Gus. “I was right then?”
Williams walked over to the table. He slammed his hand on top of it and told me to shut the fuck up.
I asked him, “Law & Order right?”
“Do you mind telling me what the fuck you are doing in Waffle House with a loaded pistol?”
I told him, “Permit to carry, next question.”
“Well, I seem to remember that you and your boy next door got into a little trouble in this part of town a few years ago. And here you are back again; any coincidence as to the reason why?”
I shook my head no.
“Look here, damn it. I am not here to play games with you. I have a murder on my hands. A murder of a woman. Your ex-con hack of a mechanic was very friendly with her. Now, do you care to tell me what the fuck is going on? Why are you and Rossi hanging out with this asshole dope dealer?”
I made sure he was looking me in the eyes before I answered. “We’re his big brothers,” I told him. “Now, arrest me for something or I’m walking out.”
Williams exhaled. I took it as he was defeated and I stood on my feet. There was nothing they had on me and they knew it. And I knew my rights and wanted to get out that room reeking of piss and alcohol mix because it was beginning to make me sick.
“Who has my heat?” I wanted to know.
Williams pointed toward the outside and I left the room, keeping an eye on Gus. I had to walk down a hallway to get to the front desk. When I got there a woman police officer was sitting behind a bulletproof window. She was wearing glasses and reading O Magazine. I gave her my name and asked for my weapon back. She asked me to produce my ID. I told her I couldn’t because that was taken from me, too. The officer was forced to get off her ass because no one would answer her on the radio to return my belongings. I turned around when the door from the outside of the police station was opened. It was the woman who called Tavious “son.”
She looked at me when she stepped inside. I quickly scanned her without saying a word to see if she had any resemblance to Tavious. Early forties, brown skin, short haircut, five six with light brown eyes. A purse was draped over her shoulder.
“He looks like his father,” she said.
“Hi, I’m West,” I let her know. “Friend of Tavious’s.”
“Joyce. I’m Joyce Bullock. I’m Tavious’s mother.”
I kind of smile at her and remember vaguely Tavious telling me he hadn’t heard nor seen his mother in over twenty years. For no other reason I thought about him wondering how it felt to see her for that brief moment before he was arrested.
“Is he still in there? Why’d they take him?”
“I don’t know,” I told her.
We both look down the hall when we hear yelling.
“Fuck you!”
It was Rossi and his voice was getting closer and closer to us.
“And there better not be a scratch on my got-damn car, you sons of bitches. You can’t just snatch someone out the car for no damn reason. Got-damn assholes!”
Now standing next to me, Rossi smoothed out his clothes. He tried his best to regain his composure.
“Okay?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said. He straightened out his shirt some more. “They are about to bring it out of me, man. Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Can’t, waiting on my belongings,” I told him.
Rossi nodded at Joyce as she stood behind us, then turned back around.
“She’s Tavious’s mother,” I told him.
Rossi looked back at her and acknowledged her again. “West, what’s going on, man? Where is he anyway?”
Joyce was getting impatient. “They think he killed Amara don’t they?” she said.
I looked around to make sure no one heard her. Rossi opened the entrance door to the police station and I put my arm around Joyce. We walked her out into the parking lot.
“Look, I don’t think you should be talking about that right now,” I let her know.
“I’m going to go get my car and come back and wait for you,” Rossi let us know.
I asked Joyce if she would walk with Rossi to pick up his car because it wasn’t safe talking in front of the police station. She agreed. When I got back into the police station it took the lady officer another thirty minutes before she came out with my things. I was sure they were trying to mess with me, seeing as I was the only person waiting in the lobby.
Finally, she brought them out. As soon as I finished making sure everything was in my wallet, and my pistol was, in fact, mine with no missing rounds, I met up with Rossi and Joyce, who were out in the car.
Chapter 27
When I got my things back and turned on my phone I could see that Lauren had called way more than a few times. I called the ladies to let them know we were okay. Joyce was now in the back seat of Rossi’s car. She was drinking a coffee from Waffle House. It didn’t seem to be helping her cope that her son who she hadn’t seen in twenty years was still in jail.
“I had a feeling they were going to come after him for this,” she said. “I tried to wait around for him at her house because she told me he was on his way, but I got scared. I didn’t want anybody to see me.”
“You were at Amara’s house?” I asked.
She nodded her head yes.
“Why’d you go there?” Rossi asked.
“We were going to surprise Tavious. I knew Amara some when the two would hang out and do their thing. I kept in contact with her the entire time he was in prison without him knowing. She was my funnel to my son. Every time they would talk she would let me know how he was doing. I wasn’t so sure about it, but she talked me into coming to see him first thing when he got out and I agreed. When I went over to see her, the front door was open. When I walked in, there she was, just above the stairs, dead.”
“Did you see anyone coming or going?”
“Not a soul. I knocked on the door; it was slightly open. I went in when she didn’t answer; then I saw her on the floor in her blood.” There was a pause. Joyce, no doubt, was reflecting. I was watching her in the rearview mirror.
Rossi turned around. “Did you take anything?”
“Like what?” Joyce answered quickly.
“Like anything?” Rossi repeated.
“Amara had a suitcase next to the door. When I left I picked it up and took it with me.”
“Suitcase?”
“Yes, a brown suitcase. She told me that she and Tavious were going to go on a vacation.”
“What was in the suitcase?” I wanted to know.
“Just some clothes and her laptop.”
Rossi turned around again. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” she responded.
“So, that’s how you got on her Facebook page?”
“Yes. I turned on her computer and it automatically came up. I didn’t have to put in a password or anything—the computer must have been in sleep mode or something. I thought about closing down her page but I thought I would just let it be; then I got a message from Tavious.”
“Why didn’t you meet him at the park,” I asked her.
“Scared . . . I don’t know. It’s been twenty years so I didn’t go through with it when I saw his face. I know he’s staying with my mother but I haven’t seen her either.”
We sat and chatted with Joyce a few more minutes. She was not in the chatting mood. She wanted to go inside the police station and find out what she could about her son. She didn’t trust the police any more than I did. Joyce kept rambling that they were probably inside trying to get him to confess to killing Amara. Rossi pulled into the parking lot. I got out of the front seat and opened the door for her. As she made her way out of the car a black sedan pulled up next to us. The back window rolled down.
“Joyce?” Mrs. Bullock questioned.
“Mama?” Joyce said back. “They’ve got Tavious again.”
Chapter 28
Soon after that, Rossi and I were standing alone in the well-lit police parking lot. We were sure there were cameras and cops looking out at us. At this point there was no hiding from the police that we were connected to Tavious on a more personal level than employment. The night was turning out to give us a little insight into Tavious and his personal life. Mrs. Bullock and Joyce stood outside for at least twenty minutes talking then hugging before they ended up walking inside the police station hand in hand.
About ten minutes after they went inside, Mrs. Bullock, Joyce, and Tavious were walking out the door. Mrs. Bullock seemed as stern as I’ve seen her in years. Tavious was straightening his collar on his jacket and getting himself back together while looking outward at us standing in front of Rossi’s car. Everyone turned to a black Ford F-150 that inched onto the lot. The driver began to faintly blow its horn more than a few times. The truck stopped right in front of Rossi’s BMW. The driver door opened. There was a gigantic German shepherd inside. The dog was not happy that it was being left alone. It was barking out of its mind. The beast kept his eyes on the man now outside the truck. It pawed and growled with some crazy distain. Rossi grabbed the handle of his own car, ready to jump his ass inside.
The black man was now in front of his truck. He was average height with a short haircut. He initiated a hand signal in the direction of the window of his truck and the dog immediately stopped his nonsense like it was remote activated.
Rossi whispered, “You see this shit?”
“Joyce? Joyce, you okay?” This guy repeated himself at least three times. He looked over at me then Rossi. He seemed a bit hesitant when he joined up with Joyce, who was standing with Tavious and her mother.
Joyce introduced them. “Ma, Tavious, this is my husband, Ely,” she let them know.
“You’re married?” Mrs. Bullock asked.
“Almost a month now,” Joyce let her know.
Her husband reached out and shook Mrs. Bullock’s hand while Tavious gave him a glancing over and just acknowledged him by barely moving his chin upward an inch. After Ely asked Joyce if she was okay again, Mrs. Bullock suggested to Tavious that he go home with her. He declined. She walked over to me.
“West, you of all people know my reach in these parts. I got a call and I’m here. At the moment I don’t know what’s going on. But I’ll trust you will fill me in after I
get some rest,” Mrs. Bullock said.
Chapter 29
I still had business to attend to in my shop. With everything going on it made it that much more difficult to keep up with the normal daily grind. But I had to admit—the intrigue of what was unfolding around Tavious had my juices flowing a bit more than what my shop had to offer. I was chasing something, but I didn’t know where it existed nor what was causing the problem, and I enjoyed it all. I realized it was almost like when I started repairing cars. I would get a thrill of trying to figure out what was going on with a distressed ride, opposed to later in life when I could almost diagnose what was wrong with a car just by someone telling me the problem they were having with it.
Lauren didn’t hesitate to step up and help out more than usual to take the load off me. Her presence in the shop allowed me to go see Mrs. Bullock when she called during the midday wanting to see me.
I hadn’t been over to see Mrs. Bullock at her estate in quite some time. She had a little more help around the place than I could remember. I noticed a cook, an assistant back in her office, and a man outside putting in new light bulbs in fixtures. She walked in her study and as always with a smile.
“Thanks for coming, West.”
I let her know it wasn’t a problem at all.
She sat down across from me in a French-style brown leather chair. “You know why I asked you over?”
I nodded my head in agreement.
“So, I’ll just get right to it. It hurts to ask this. And I know deep in my heart what kind of boy—well, man—Tavious was raised to be. But I need to know if you think he killed this young woman.”
Now it was official. Mrs. Bullock has found out that Tavious was being investigated. I knew deep down inside that she would find out sooner or later. As I sat in front of her I could have kicked myself for not being the one to tell her about what was going on. I didn’t want to add any stress to her life so I decided not to. I hoped that she wouldn’t hold it against me and by the type of person she was I didn’t think she would. From that moment on, I decided that all info I had on Tavious and what was going on with him I was going to give to Mrs. Bullock straight with no chaser, even though I could see the worry all over her face.
More Money for Good Page 8