“Fuck the money,” I said out loud.
I had no need for the money she had left in the house so I didn’t take it. I was in pain and the night did nothing to stop the bleeding.
I sat up looking out the window at Brooklyn Bridge as the time started to count from one. It wasn’t until four that I kissed Emerald on the cheek and lay down next to him to rest my weary body. Tomorrow I was going to tie up all the loose ends and maybe the whore would finally get off my back.
Chapter 23
Epilogue
I got up at eight in the morning and grabbed my phone from the night table. I looked at Emerald who was still fast asleep. I went to the address book and pulled up Kathleen’s number. I dialed it.
“Hello.” She sounded drowsy.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“My husband and I will live but he’s crippled for life.”
“Did they catch the person who did it?”
“No, but the police are investigating.”
“I need a number for one of your husband’s friends.”
“What for?” she asked.
“Something was taken from me.” I was banking on her believing that Donna had double-crossed me.
“Is it her?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll send it to you.” She hung up the phone.
A few seconds passed before I received a text message with a number.
“Daddy, where are we going today?” my son asked.
I turned around to see him sitting up in bed, still rubbing his eyes.
“Well, your daddy has to do something; then we’re going home.”
“But I thought we were going on a trip,” he said.
“We are, but we have to get Mommy first.”
“Okay, where are we going?”
“Come here, Little Boy.” I stretched my hands out to him. He came running and I lifted him up into my arms. “Wherever you want to go.”
“Disneyland!”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Then we’re going to Disneyland.”
I canvassed the sidewalk with my eyes as I looked for a public phone, finally finding one on the corner of Third Avenue. I told Emerald, “I’ll be right back.”
I dropped two quarters into the coin slot and was rewarded with a dial tone. I dialed the cell phone number that Kathleen had given me.
“Hello.” The voice on the other end had a European accent, from which country I didn’t know.
“Listen,” I said. “I will only say this once.”
“Who are you?”
“There was a robbery yesterday on Park Avenue. I know who did it.”
The voice became a little bit more excited. “I’m listening.”
“You will find five million in saving bonds from the robbery in a house in Queens. The address is 1020 USA Avenue. The owner and her man have the rest of the money.”
“Where are they?” the voice asked.
“I’m giving you the pussy; now you want the lubricant too? Find them your fucking self.” I hung up the phone.
I pulled into my driveway twenty-five minutes later and Emerald was out of the car and at the front door in seconds. Lauren opened the door with a surprised expression on her face.
She picked him up and kissed him, her face basking in joy. I walked toward the door. She was still standing there but Emerald was gone.
“My father’s dead,” Lauren announced with very little sadness in her voice. “The police left a few minutes ago but they will be back. I told them that I came home and found Donna and Annette on the floor. I told them that Annette was my lover.”
“Did they believe you?”
“For now they do. I will let our lawyers deal with the cops. What are you doing back here?”
“I’m sorry to hear about your father. I’m back here because this is my house.” I stood opposite her, the door still open. “From now on, there won’t be any bitches coming in my house. If you want some pussy, feel free to go to a hotel or do whatever, but don’t bring them here. This is my fucking house and if you don’t like it, you can leave right now.”
“My mom wants you to help her with my father’s burial arrangements.”
“When is the funeral?”
“Sunday afternoon.”
“Tell your mom that I’ll be there tomorrow. Do they have any idea who killed your father?” I asked, my hand still on the front door.
“No, but we all knew that my father dealt with some shady characters. His violent death isn’t totally unexpected. We always knew that one day it would catch up with him. The cops think it was a deal gone bad.”
“I never had a good relationship with your father but death is always sad.”
Lauren looked upstairs in the direction of Emerald’s room. “Emerald will take it very hard. He loved his grandfather.”
“Yeah, I know, there will be a lot of tears on Sunday afternoon.” My cell phone began to ring.
She looked directly into my unwavering eyes. “I’m going to make something for Emerald. Do you want anything?”
“A sandwich would be good.”
“Okay.” Lauren walked toward the kitchen.
I looked at the number on the phone. I flipped the phone open.
“What’s up, Brenda?”
“I’m giving you another chance to go away with me,” she said.
“Any day after Sunday would be good,” I replied.
“What about next Thursday?” She sounded like she had just hit the lottery.
“Go ahead and book it.”
“First-class?”
“It’s the only way to go.” I looked over at Lauren as she placed my sandwich with a Heineken on the table. I closed the phone and pulled the door shut. It was time for me to feed.
About the Author
Born in Grenada, West Indies, Michael Presley migrated to the United States (Brooklyn, New York) in 1978. Upon graduation from George W. Wingate High School, he proceeded to get a Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature at Stony Brook University. He has written various short stories, specializing in fiction. He is author of the bestselling Blackfunk trilogy. He continues to live in Brooklyn with his daughter and he is currently working on his fifth novel. Visit the author at www.blackfunk-book.com.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Tears on a Sunday Afternoon Page 19