“No,” Sophia heard the word escape her lips. She knew that in a strange way Michael’s story made some kinda sense but why? Lil’ Long had knocked her unconscious and he allegedly raped Deedee. She decided not to mention that piece to Michael. Her mind was inflamed with questions and Sophia wanted to find out more. She wanted the truth.
“The hit was supposed to be carried out by two cops. Apparently it was not a successful venture for them since they were also being watched by the department. The news of their involvement is being hushed because the bosses feel that any revelations will bring down the already low morale and may tip the department’s hat.”
“So you’re telling me there is pending investigation on me or Eric?” Sophia asked.
“We thought your fiancé would be the next target marked for death. We were actually thinking of staking out his places of business but then when you called, I thought it was time I spoke directly to you, lawyer to lawyer.”
“Michael, I appreciate your straightforwardness but why now? I mean, why didn’t you mention this to me before? We are friends, aren’t we?”
“Listen, we’re friends but it wasn’t about friendship. I was doing my job. I mean, I knew this from way back when but I’m sure you understand that my hands were bound. You know that the legal system and law enforcement are no different. I would’ve compromised what was at stake for my own selfish reasons,” Michael said as sincerely as he could. He reached out and cupped her hands with his.
“You could’ve said something,” Sophia said shrugging off the gesture.
“No more than you could’ve when I asked for Robert Morgan’s financial records,” Michael countered.
“That’s client-attorney privilege and you know damn well that would be wrong, Michael. I couldn’t...” Sophia said her voice trailing off.
“Then you should understand,” Michael said. “It was the same.”
“Michael, why are telling me this now? Why?” Sophia was agitated and wanted an answer. Michael did the best he could to soothe her.
“After your call, I spoke to my boss explaining that the other man involved in the hit was the same man that had been shot in Eric’s apartment,” Michael said and sipped on his wine. Sophia waited, impatient to learn her role. “He okayed that I speak privately with you and here we are.”
“Now that I’ve got all this knowledge, what do you suppose I do with it?” Sophia asked sarcasm lacing her tone.
“When I initially found out about the investigation, I prayed that you weren’t aware and that Ascot was using you as cover for his schemes. At least I’m right about that piece. Maybe you can get your fiancé to come down and talk with me? Maybe you could talk some sense into him and get him to cooperate with our investigation? We may be able to provide immunity,” Michael said. He had rolled the dice and now it was Sophia’s turn. She looked shell shocked and her once shiny eyes appeared dull. Her brain was doing loops trying to integrate all of the information that had just been revealed to her. Sophia felt drenched by all the thoughts and questions.
“I don’t think...” she started to say but Michael prevented her from taking cover.
“It’s the only chance Eric’s got right now. He’s got to tell us what he knows and testify to it in court,” Michael said then rushed to add, “with immunity, of course.”
“You don’t know Eric,” she said and was surprised at Michael’s answer.
“Yes, I do. What type of a fiancé frequents gentlemen’s clubs especially when he’s got a very beautiful woman he can go home to?” Michael asked and rushed to answer the question as Sophia’s mind churned. “The types that are up to no good. The ones who eventually get caught with their pants around their ankles,” he said.
Sophia shook her head back and forth. She couldn’t shake the image of Eric carousing with scantily clothed dancers and stuffing dollar bills down their G-Strings. The repulsive reflection didn’t leave her easily. Sophia was in shock and couldn’t move. Slowly, it was all coming to her. Michael was giving voice to her worst nightmare. The picture that was being painted in broad strokes made it clear what Eric had been trying to hide all along. Her mouth went dry and she reached for her glass.
“We felt that Eric might be involved in other illegal activities but weren’t certain until last night,” Michael said and waited until the waiter took their order. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Michael didn’t miss a beat. He knew exactly where he had left off.
“Eric’s name popped up when we ran a check on Robert Morgan’s phone log. Again, this was routine stuff. We were trying to establish a connection to a possible murder not related to either of them. The victims were a drug dealing street worker named Deja and his girlfriend, Bebop. Both were found dead and the bullets were the same type that were used to kill Busta.”
“But that happens all the time. I mean, the same bullets doesn’t necessarily mean the gun was the same,” Sophia protested. So far, Eric appeared to be far removed from the situation but Michael linked him to more.
“True but in this case, we went back to the phone calls between the two men. There is something going on.”
“They were business partners and they knew each other from the street. It’s all circumstantial.”
“Again you’re right, Sophie, but we continued our surveillance on Eric.”
“Why continue?” Sophia asked. Michael could see the fury in her eyes as she continued. “Michael, don’t tell me you authorized the surveillance of a private citizen. I’ll...” She started and fumbled for words. “It’s illegal.”
“Eric is involved big time. Last night...” Michael’s voice trailed off. It was as if he did not want to continue but Sophia pushed for more.
“Last night, what?” she asked. The waiter returned with another two glasses of red and set them down. “What happened last night, Michael?” Sophia asked after the waiter left. Michael heard the change in her tone and knew she was beginning to become nervous and angry.
“Last night, your fiancé spent the night with a couple of dancers from the Red Room,” Michael said studying Sophia’s reaction as he slowly unveiled the cherry on top of this meeting.
“He…he was supposed to be in the recording studio,” Sophia said. Her voice had taken on a tone of defeat.
“Well, he did go to the studio,” Michael said and watched as she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, for a minute there I…”
“Hear me out,” Michael said trying to calm her down. “He did go to the recording studio. He left urgently and stayed with some dancers at the Red Room for about 2 hours. After that, he went back to the studio. He stayed there until about eight o’clock in the morning. From there, he returned to the club and had a meeting with guess who?” Michael asked.
Sophia, too stunned to answer, just continued to listen but she knew what the answer would be. She barely got the name out before Michael jumped on it.
“Maruichi.”
“Exactly,” shouted Michael as if he just scored a touchdown.
Sophia could not believe her ears. This was a lot for her to swallow in one sitting. Her stomach growled and her head ached with the torrent of emotions. She went from angry to sad and back. When would this nightmarish roller coaster cease? She wondered as she looked at Michael hoping to find doubt.
Maybe this was an evil joke to play on an old college friend. She searched for the flash of a smile but none came. Sophia had to deal with this reality. She arrived at the foregone conclusion. My relationship is over with Eric. I can’t go back. He lied and cheated. Tears welled. Sophia tried to hold them back.
“Are you sure, Michael?” Sophia finally asked and, unable to hold it together anymore, let the tears roll past her mascara and down her cheeks.
“Sophie, sweetheart, I wish I could tell you this is a lie or that it’s some type of April fool’s joke,” he said holding her hands again.
“Thanks, Michael. I feel like such a fool thinking he was in the studio all these nights. I’
m putting my feelings out there while he’s conducting clandestine mob dealings with Busta. What’s going to happen now?” Sophia asked.
“We have an office filled with records. An enormous amount of man-hours have been invested in endless surveillance. There are papers stacked so high, I can’t even see above them. We still can’t nail Maruichi and his gang and that’s why we need Eric to turn state’s witness.”
“Michael, I know Eric. He’s not going to commit to anything like that.”
“That’s why it’s important that you put pressure on him. He’s got to see that there is no other way.”
“Look, I’ll try but at the moment, Eric and I are not on good terms. We had a little fuss and it’s not resolved yet. Give me about a week and I’ll get back to you.”
“Sophie, you don’t fully understand. The urgency here is not only that Eric’s putting himself at risk but he’s also exposing you and his niece to…”
“I’ve got that, I really do. I just think I’ve got to re-evaluate myself and the position I’m in. That’s all I’m saying.”
“All right then. A week it is. I’ll try to buy you all the time you’ve asked for but please try to deliver. It’ll be a great day when cats like Maruichi and his crew are put away for good.”
“And it will also be a great feather in the cap of an assistant DA, right, Michael?” Sophia asked just when the waiter returned. “I think we’re going to have to skip lunch, thanks. Michael, lets just pay the tab and do lunch another time.” Sophia rose from the table and gracefully walked to the exit while Michael paid the tab.
He met her out on the sidewalk. Her eyes were still wet from the tears they had shed. There will be plenty more tears to come, Michael thought as he helped with her coat. He couldn’t help but notice her figure. Sophia could easily be mistaken for a model. Why would her man treat her bad? Michael wondered as they walked down the busy street.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Back to work, why?”
“You’re a pretty strong woman, Sophie,” he said and kissed her gently on the lips. She didn’t pull back. It was Michael. “You’re going to be fine,” he said trying to be supportive.
“Thank you, Michael. Where to now?” she asked.
“I’m headed back to work too,” he said and they both waved for cabs.
She jumped into the first one that stopped and was gone. As the cab raced downtown, Sophia stared out the window trying to lose herself in a world that never existed, seeing things that were not really there. The ring of her cell phone jolted her back to reality. It was Deedee.
“Hello,” she said into the mouthpiece.
“Sophia, I’m glad I got you. Busta is dead. He was shot. I saw it on the news. I haven’t spoken to or seen Uncle E? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning,” Deedee rambled. She sounded frantic on the phone and Sophia tried everything not to explode in tears.
“Yes,” she said almost too quiet. She took a deep breath then spoke a little louder. “Yes, I heard the news.”
“Are you okay, Sophia?” Deedee asked.
“Uh huh, I’ll call you back in few minutes, Deedee,” Sophia said and slowly closed the cellular in her hand. She reached into her bag and removed a tissue. She wiped the tears rolling down the side of her cheeks. Sophia dialed Eric and was directed to his voicemail. “Hope you’re alright. Please call me...” Her voice faded as if the air had been cut off. She sobbed quietly as the taxicab moved through the midtown lunchtime traffic.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Eric nursed his pasta. It wasn’t all that good, he decided. Eric came to the conclusion that the food wasn’t the main attraction here. It was the chance to meet with the bosses and the captains. It was strictly mobster. Sturdy looking men with slick hair and crumpled suits sat around tables, arguing with each other like school kids.
They were having a rude time doing it too. Every so often, the conversation would break down into Italian yet, in this bevy of wise guys, Eric felt safer than before. Maybe it was the fact that their attitudes said it clearly. They didn’t care if you thought they were gangster or not.
He thought about Busta’s connection to this crew. Now that Busta was no longer around, Eric could use the protection but at what cost? He didn’t want to lose Sophia and becoming involved with these people would certainly drive her away. On the other hand, he could try explaining it all to the police and take his chances on being sent away to prison. Eric decided to align himself with Maruichi.
“Now that Busta is gone, I feel that because of certain things, my life and the lives of my family might be threatened,” Eric said to the man across the table from him.
“Yeah, I know a little about that. Protection is very, very important and you can never put cost on what your family and loved ones mean to you,” Maruichi said as he wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin. He leaned forward as if he wanted no one else to hear what he had to say but Eric. “You’re the only one who knows.”
“You’re so right,” Eric answered.
“You can count on me.”
Eric Ascot was not used to dealing with people who were as ruthless as Frankie Maruichi but somehow Eric felt a sense of relief and said, “I may have lost Busta but I feel I’ve found someone who understands me.”
“We’re the same. I’m a family man and so are you. I wouldn’t want anyone messing with my family. It wouldn’t sit well with me to know that someone was trying to harm my family. Busta went to sleep thinking that everyone is fair but not everyone is so they have to be dealt with in that same sense.” Maruichi spoke with great conviction.
Immediately, Eric knew that Maruichi did not get his reputation on the street for being soft. You could tell that he was in charge. He was a big time mobster. From the way people scurried about when he beckoned, Eric sensed that this guy was the real deal. Busta had mentioned him as a friend but he also remembered Busta warning him to stay out of his way because his greatest skills included extortion, loan sharking, illegal gambling, narcotics and murder. If you became indebted to him, then he would exercise one of his skills. He presided over a criminal empire with tentacles reaching as far as Canada. Maruichi was an icon who believed that after he died, some famous actor would be playing him in a movie.
Eric was considering whether or not he needed to be doing business with this lot or even if he needed any type of bulletproof protection when he heard Maruichi continued.
“Not only will it be a great plus for you, but I also think we’ll be able to do business.”
“I agree. I could use that help,” Eric said. In the company of the mobsters, Eric felt safe and protected.
Later, he glad handed his way back up the stairs and smiled wryly at the parking summons for an expired meter. He sat in the vehicle feeling sorry for Busta as he retrieved his messages. Amongst them were messages from Deedee and Sophia. Sophia sounded as if she was still angry at him so Eric dialed Deedee.
“Uncle E!” Deedee sounded like she was shrieking.
“Yeah, Dee, what’s good?”
“Uncle Eric, I’m so happy to hear your voice. Were you in the studio?”
“Yes, honey. Are you alright?”
“I’m okay but Uncle Eric, Busta...” Eric heard her voice trailing off.
“Yes, I just found out about it,” Eric answered.
“You already knew. I thought...” Deedee began but Eric cut her off.
“Have you spoken to...” he started but Deedee didn’t let him finish the question.
“Yes,” Deedee said anticipating the question correctly, “I have spoken to Sophia. She wants you to call her.”
“I will,” Eric said. “No school today?”
“I’m out for a week. Spring recess, uncle,” Deedee said sounding exasperated. There was a pause and she quickly added, “You will call Sophia, won’t you, Uncle E?” The crackling sound of static from the line hummed in the background. Deedee was aware they were still connected but she asked anyway. “Uncle E, are y
ou still there?”
“I’m gonna call her as soon as I hang up from you,” Eric answered.
“I’m just making sure we weren’t disconnected. You know how these lines are.”
“Yeah, I’ll call her now.”
“Take care, Uncle E.”
“Make sure all the locks are bolted and the windows are locked.”
“Uncle E, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later,” Deedee said.
“Bye, honey.” Eric closed the cellular. He started the Range Rover and let the window down feeling the comforting blast of fresh air. Eric drove off into the brisk morning breeze. He rode in a cloud of newly found security. You have to fight fire with fire, he thought as he pulled closer to the studio.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sophia walked back in her office and slammed the door. She picked up the phone and called her secretary. “Miriam, please hold my calls.”
“Mr. Donaldson dropped by while you were out. He never said exactly what he wanted.”
“Thanks, Miriam,” Sophia said then hung up the phone. She wondered what Donaldson wanted. He was one of the senior partners in the firm and had never been by to see her before. They did not have that casual type of relationship. Everything was done strictly business so his casual visit was a cause for concern. Sophia thought about this as she dialed his extension. “Mr. Donaldson.”
“Ms. Sullivan, I stopped by to inform you of your client, Robert Morgan’s, demise. I was about to call again. You saved me that trip,” he chirped as if announcing the winner of a bet.
“Well, thank you for letting me know,” Sophia started then quickly asked, “How did you learn of this?”
“Connections. It’ll be all over the media soon.”
“It’s already all over the media.”
“As senior partner, that’s my concern. How did you spend your weekend? Probably had a real good one, eh? The media has been reporting the incident since Friday night. Is everything alright with your fiancé?” He asked. The question hit Sophia so hard that she stopped moving. There was a pause before she spoke.
Ghetto Girls Too Page 13