The Reign of Rain Robinson

by Roy Glenn

  “It’s really me,” Carmen said.

  He looked at Max and pulled out his phone. “Can you take a picture of us, please?” He handed the phone to him and quickly went to stand next to Carmen and Max snapped a few pictures for him.

  “Thank you so much and if I can get you to sign an autograph for me, that would be great,” he said and handed Carmen a pen. She laughed to herself as she thought about signing his hand since he didn’t give her anything to write on. Carmen picked up whatever paper was closest and scribbled her name, before handing it back to her admirer.

  “So, what can I do for you, Carmen? Can I call you Carmen?”

  “Carmen is fine, and I wanted to ask you about one of your P. O. box renters.”

  “Which one?” he said, but suddenly seemed less excited about Carmen’s visit.

  “CTI.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Who rented the box and an address for the company?” Carmen paused and leaned a little closer to him. “Please.”

  Even though her please was sugary sweet and he had literally been in love with Carmen since he first saw her on that magazine cover years ago, he was reluctant to give Carmen the information that she requested for fear of losing his job. The last thing he wanted or needed was for a bunch of news trucks to be parked outside his store over something he told Carmen.

  But after using her considerable charm and a hundred dollars, the clerk told her who rented the box and gave her the address that was used to rent the box. When she got outside, Carmen looked at the paper.

  “Richard Castor.”

  While Max drove, Carmen used her tablet to do some research and found that Richard Castor was the head of Castor Technology Inc.

  “Castor Technology Inc. − CTI. Cute,” Max said as he drove away from the store.

  When the address for CTI turned out to be a private residence and not an office, it piqued Carmen’s curiosity even more.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Carmen,” Max said,

  “Okay, Mad Max, what am I thinking?”

  “You’re thinking about going to this guy’s house, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Carmen entered the address in Max’s navigator. When they arrived at the house, Max rang the bell, but got no answer. “I guess nobody’s home,” Max said and started to walk away.

  Not willing to accept that, Carmen knocked on the door.

  “Mr. Castor, it’s Carmen Taylor with Channel Four news,” she said before trying the doorknob and finding that it was unlocked. Carmen kicked the door open with her foot. “Mr. Castor.” She stuck her head in. “It’s Carmen Taylor with Channel Four News.”

  When Carmen took a step to go inside, Max grabbed her arm. “This is breaking and entering.”

  “No it’s not. The door is open.”

  “Because we opened it,” Max said excitedly.

  “It’s still open,” Carmen said and started to go inside. Then she stopped and turned back to face Max. “If you wanna wait in the car, Max, I’m good with that.”

  Max shook his head, pushed the door wide open and extended his hand for Carmen. “After you, M’lady.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Carmen said and went inside.

  “May fortune favor the foolish,” Max said and followed Carmen inside the house.

  “Mr. Castor. It’s Carmen Taylor with Channel Four News,” she said again as she and Max entered the foyer.

  “I don’t think he’s gonna answer you, Carmen,” Max said as soon as he passed the living room.

  “Why’s that?” Carmen asked and Max tapped her on the shoulder. When Carmen turned, she saw the body. “Oh.”

  “That him?”

  “How should I know from here,” Carmen said as she walked into the living room. It was in shambles, and directly in the center of the mess was a body.

  “Where are you going?” Max asked, remaining in the foyer.

  “I’m just gonna take a look to see if it’s him,” Carmen said and continued toward the body. When she was close enough, Carmen looked down at the body.

  “Is it him?”

  Carmen closed her eyes and turned away from the sight of Richard Castor’s dead body.

  “What?”

  Carmen opened her eyes and briefly looked back at the lifeless body and then she came back toward Max.

  “It’s Castor. He’s been shot in the head and the chest and his throat was cut.”

  “Damn.”

  “Get your camera.” Carmen took out her phone. “And hurry, we don’t have much time,” she said to Max as she dialed a number.

  “Hello, Ms. Taylor, what can I do for you?” Detective Harmon asked.

  “I need to report a murder.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No, Detective Harmon, I didn’t kill him. He was dead when I got here.”

  “Where is here, Ms. Taylor?”

  Once Carmen explained where she was and what she and Max found, Detective Harmon gave her another lecture about staying out of it and letting the police handle it, before saying that he was on his way.

  When Max got back with his camera, he began capturing the murder scene in photos and video, Carmen called Dan, and told him to get a truck down there.

  “I knew you weren’t going on any damn vacation.”

  “Shut up, Dan. Just send the truck.”

  “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No!”

  “Just asking in case somebody, you know, the higher ups, ask me if you did.”

  “No, Dan, I did not kill him,” Carmen ended the call and put on her gloves.

  Carmen looked at Max. “Why does everybody keep asking me if I killed him?”

  “Really, Carmen? I mean, it ain’t like you haven’t dropped a body before and wasn’t one just last night?”

  Carmen looked seriously at Max for a second or two and then they both started laughing.

  “When you put it like that,” she laughed and thought that the reason the question seemed so foreign to her was that she didn’t kill anybody the night before, Jada did.

  Carmen put her phone back in her purse, took out a pair of plastic gloves, put them on and prepared to search the house. When she found Castor’s office, Carmen went in and looked around. The first thing that she noticed was that the computer was still on and the ice in the glass on the desk hadn’t melted completely. It was a safe assumption that the murder hadn’t been committed too long ago and that Castor was in the office and seated at his desk when his killer arrived.

  “Did you get it?” Carmen asked when Max came in.

  “This may be too disturbing for some viewers,” he said, imitating the station’s anchorman. “That was some struggle in there.”

  “I think he was in here, sitting at his desk.” Carmen sat down and began looking in the drawers. “He got up to let the killer in.”

  “Castor lets him in. They argue.”

  “They fight.”

  “Castor gets dead,” Max said as he scanned the room with his camera and then he stopped. “I wonder if the guy shot him and then cut his throat, or the other way around?”

  “I’m guessing that the killer cut his throat first and then he shot him twice when he was on the ground,” she said and began rifling through the stack of papers lying on Castor’s desk.

  “What’s this?”

  “What you got?”

  Carmen examined the papers. “They’re international shipping manifests from a company called Ingram International, lots of them.”

  When she saw a full shredder next to his desk, and a trash can full of shredded paper, Carmen grabbed a handful.

  “He was shredding these shipping manifests. We should take some of it.”

  “No, Carmen. We could face charges for tampering with a crime scene,” Max warned.

  “Like we’re doing now?”

  “Withholding evidence, obstruction of justice. I could go on and on �
��”

  “All right, Max, all right.” Carmen paused. “Just make copies of the shipping manifests.”

  Max quickly made copies of the manifests and they were outside when the police arrived. When the news truck got there, Carmen reported the story for the 6 o'clock news.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Milton Petty picked up the remote and turned off the television. The news he just heard wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He hated when things are left half done. Milton leaned back on the couch and thought about the situation.

  Things were so much simpler in the old days, he thought. Back then, me and Kwame would have had this shit handled and handled right. Maybe that’s what needs to happen here.

  The longer he sat there, the more the idea of doing it himself appealed to him. After a while, Milton got up from the couch and he went in his office. He poured himself a scotch and sat down at his desk. He hadn’t been in there too long when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come.”

  “I have Mr. Bonner and Mr. Hamilton here to see you, sir,” Jesse, the houseman said.

  “Show him in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A couple of minutes later, Jesse showed Walter Bonner and Barry Hamilton into the office. Milton had assigned them to contain the situation that was caused by Richard Castor’s carelessness.

  Castor had become involved with Katana Jackson, who, before her death, worked at Abbate Construction. He recklessly allowed her to overhear a conversation with Bonner about the flash drive. Outraged by what she heard, without his knowledge, Katana took the drive from Castor’s safe and then sought out the advice of her friend, Larry Brin, a congressional aide. She knew that he had recently helped Carmen expose Marietta Dynamics illegally receiving forty million dollars in government contracts.

  “The situation that was caused by Katana Jackson has been contained,” Bonner said.

  “I just watched the news.” Milton got up from his desk and walked to Bonner. “Carmen Taylor reported that Richard is dead.”

  “Situation contained, just like you ordered.”

  “The situation is not contained if Carmen Taylor is alive to report the story.” Milton walked toward the door and opened it. “The situation will be contained when Carmen Taylor is dead.”

  “I’ll see to it, Mr. Petty.”

  “See that you do,” Milton said and closed the door behind them.

  After Bonner left the office, it wasn’t long before DP came in and went to fix himself a drink. He had passed Bonner in the hallway and he didn’t look happy.

  “What he want?” DP asked, knowing something had transpired between Bonner and his father.

  “To tell me that he hadn’t done what I asked,” Milton said and told DP where they are with the situation and Carmen.

  “Do you think she knows anything?”

  “Do you really want to run that risk?”

  “No. Especially not when we got a shipment going overseas next week. We’ve got guarantee delivery dates we have to keep.”

  “Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that?” an annoyed Milton asked his son.

  “Sorry, Pop, didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  “I know that you didn’t. Bonner will get this handled.”

  “Even if he kills her, there’s no telling what Simpson told her and whether she told anyone else.”

  “Has anybody heard from Morris yet?” Milton asked.

  “Not since he left Enzo’s with that guy,” DP replied.

  “Keep looking for him.”

  “I will, but my point is, he followed Carmen Taylor to Enzo’s, that means she’s close. Too close to that entire operation.”

  “Get to your point.”

  “If she even mentioned that she was there to anyone, once she’s dead and the cops start asking questions about what she was working on and retrace her steps; see where I’m going with this?”

  “Maybe we should think about shutting that operation down and moving it.” Milton shook his head. “Fuck!”

  “What?”

  “I was thinking about how much money we stand to lose if we had to take that option.”

  “Exactly my point. We’d have to find a place, get it built and set up and then hope that we don’t lose our clientele, not to mention the women.”

  “I get it, David.”

  “I know that you do. I just want to know what you want me to do about it?” DP asked, already knowing what he was going to do.

  “Start looking for a spot and get it up and running. Even if it turns out to be nothing, next time we might not be so lucky. And check with our police contacts and see if they heard anything.”

  Which was exactly what DP had in mind. In anticipation of his father’s order, he had already found a new spot and had a crew building it out as they spoke.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said and got up to leave.

  “One more thing. If this does go sideways on us, torch Enzo’s. There can’t be any trace of what’s going on there.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t think of that,” he said, even though he did.

  DP respected his father and didn’t mind taking a backseat to him. DP knew that more needed to be done than just killing Carmen Taylor. Everyone that she came in contact with since she met with Simpson may need to be eliminated in order to protect his investment.

  There was a knock at the door and DP got up to answer it. Kwame Coleman came into the office; he and Milton came up from Mississippi together. He had always been the one that Milton turned to anytime there was dirty work to be done. Kwame was there to update father and son on the hits on J.R.’s and Conversations.

  “Come in and have a seat, Kwame,” DP said.

  Over the years, he had come to trust his father’s closest friend and thought that he was the best man to handle his takeover plan.

  “Can I get you a drink?” DP asked and smiled.

  “Like I need you to pour me a drink,” Kwame said on his way to the bar.

  “What you got for us, Kwame?” Milton asked.

  “I had my people hit J.R.’s the night before.”

  “And?” DP asked.

  “Rain Robinson is dead.”

  “That’s key,” DP said and pumped his fist. “What about Conversations?”

  “I sent Martel and his crew. They shot up the place like you wanted, but they missed Jackie Washington.”

  “How did that happen?”

  Coleman shrugged his shoulders. “They said they had her, but she got away.”

  “What about Carter Garrison?” DP asked.

  “I haven’t heard from the men that I sent after him.”

  Milton looked at DP. “I told you that he was gonna be a problem. Those men are probably dead now.”

  “You might as well say that about Morris too,” DP said.

  “He ain’t that big a problem. I’ll send more people after Carter. They’ll get his ass.”

  “No. You can go back at him later.” DP got up and went to the bar. “The important thing is that Rain Robinson is dead. Stick to the plan.” He picked up a bottle. “You hit The Four Kings next.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  After reporting the murder of Richard Castor live on the six o'clock news, Carmen went back to the station. When she got there, Louis Carr, the station’s managing news editor was waiting to see her in the conference room. Carmen walked into the room, and was surprised and overjoyed at the same time that the entire executive staff wasn’t in there waiting for her like the last time.

  “Have a seat, Carmen,” Louis said.

  She walked around to the other side of the conference table and Carmen pulled out the chair directly across from him. The moment her cheeks touched the chair, Louis immediately tore into her about taking unnecessary risks. There was a line or two about the station’s liability and, of course, he had to ask her, between you and me, did you kill Castor? And then the tone changed as Louis slowly eased into the fact that she was getting results in her inve
stigation.

  “So what are you saying, Louis?” Carmen leaned forward. “Do you want me to stop and go to Paris, or do you want me to keep digging?”

  Louis sat back in his chair and allowed it to swivel a bit, as he considered his response. “The official line is to back off and go have fun for two weeks in Paris.”

  “But.”

  “The unspoken word from on high is keep digging, Carmen. Ratings are up … the live spots are great. You know what they care about.”

  “Ad revenue,” Carmen chuckled.

  “Exactly. Some people have quietly expressed concern about the police and whether they are going to charge you with manslaughter. Which, by the way, Gary thinks they are.”

  “That’s reassuring to hear.”

  “But not to worry, the thinking on that is, you keep working while you’re awaiting trial.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Louis shook his head.

  “Do they want me to do live reports during the trial too?” Carmen laughed, but Louis didn’t. “You’re serious?”

  “It was discussed.” Louis leaned on the conference table and looked at Carmen. “But I don’t care about any of that.”

  “What do you care about?”

  “You. I could care less about whether you get the story or not, Carmen. I want Carmen to be safe. So, what I’m saying is, these people seem to be a little more dangerous than the political types that you usually go after, so be careful, Carmen. That’s what I’m saying and that’s all I got.”

  When Carmen left the conference room, she went to her office to get her things and got outta there. Once she was outside, Carmen hailed a cab and got in.

  “Where to?”

  “Anywhere. Just drive.”

  As the driver drove, Carmen thought about where she was, what she was doing and most importantly, why she was doing this. It had to be more than just the need to know, it had to be. Carmen had always considered herself to be a passionate person, passionate about the things that are important to her. She was driven by those things and Carmen had worked hard at them. And Carmen was competitive; she had a strong internal need to succeed and give her best to everything she did. Admirable traits, but in this case, her driven, passionate and competitive nature may prove to be fatal.