Last Laugh

by Rahiem Brooks

  The first guard that entered the room went directly over to Kareem and reached out to grab him. Kareem pushed the man away, and was immediately attacked by the officers that responded to the emergency alarm. He said, “Y’all can fuck me up, but I tagged ya man up nice.” He laughed, and said, “Y’all a bunch of bitch ass suckas.”

  22

  PHILADELPHIA, SPRAGA RESTAURANT

  Michelle parked outside of the Spraga Restaurant on Broad Street in downtown Philadelphia. She looked at a man and woman dressed in a cocktail dress and suit and then looked at herself and her date, Rock. They hardly looked like they belonged having dinner at such an upscale place. She looked over at Rock who busied himself in his phone and occasionally made a coded phone call, which he assumed he was hiding from her.

  The agent in Michelle had her cell phone on record each time that he made a call. Certainly, she had no idea who he was talking to, but when her team subpoenaed and obtained the call logs, they would easily be able to connect the dots along with the calls.

  Breaking his attention from his phone, she asked him, “Are you sure you want to eat here? This just doesn’t look like the type of place you’d be taking me to.”

  Rock slipped his phone into his pocket and informed her that he was a seasoned fellow, and the way that he kept himself a mystery was doing things that no one would anticipate.

  “This is one of my favorite spots. They have a nice three course meal with a wine pairing. Let me come around and let you out. You’ll see.”

  “Wait,” she said, as the valet opened his car door. “You’ve been really busy on your phone, and meeting up with your people to handle your business. Can we leave our phones in the car, so that we can concentrate on each other? You can leave it right on your door.”

  “I don’t think that I can do that. I am trying to handle something and I need my jack.”

  “Come on, baby,” she said and rubbed his leg. “We won’t be here that long, and you won’t miss that much.”

  Rock scrolled through his text messages, and then told her, “Okay, I’ll do it. I don’t know why I am falling for you,” he stated as he sent out a last text.

  She immediately hopped on her phone, too, and sent out one last text to her handler. It read:

  His phone is in the arm of the car while we’re in a restaurant at Broad and Pine. It’s with valet, so just follow where they park the cars, find mine, and clone his phone, ASAP. Do not reply.

  After she hit the send button, she deleted the message, and then text her mom that she was going to be without her phone for an hour. As the valet opened her car door, she told him, “I had to tell my mom I won’t be free. She really depends on me.”

  23

  PHILADELPHIA,

  RAVONNE LEMMELLE’S OFFICE THE NEXT DAY

  Ravonne stood in the center of his office and looked out of the floor to ceiling windows. He watched a bird land on the ledge outside the window and wondered what his life would be like if he was just as free to do whatever he wanted. Just living life with one worry; what to eat? But alas, he wasn’t. He was an associate for Philadelphia’s second largest law firm, Martir, Savino & Associates.

  He walked over to the mahogany bar inside his office and looked at himself in the mirror. He was 29, but often accused of being 21. When he wore wingtips, he gained an inch and stood at 5’9, but he always lied and claimed to be 5’10”. He didn’t like being average height, and wanted to be 6’4” or taller. His slim muscular frame was perfect for any beach, but he wanted to be bulkier. He had average self-esteem and desired a few changes. However, he was overly confident in the courtroom, which had him undefeated at trials.

  After pouring himself a jubilee, he sat at his desk. Staring at him was the Kareem Bezel Motion to Dismiss. The motion laid out the absurdity of the Government’s indictment that he was hired to defend his client against. There were various reasons why he couldn’t wait to get back into the courtroom. He had the best investigators in the business, and what they had found out about the United States Attorney, Darryl Jones was strong. Any time Investigator Jonathan Rude was on the case hidden things were likely to be found.

  Ravonne reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed his best friend, Aramis. There were several interesting things about this bond that existed since middle school. One of them was their professions. Ravonne was a lead Philadelphia attorney and Aramis was a lead Philadelphia crime reporter. It was a match made in heaven. They both earned their masters degrees at Harvard University.

  “Lunch?” Aramis asked as soon as he answered the phone.

  “How’d you know?” Ravonne said and walked to his office window. He looked at the people below flow in and out of the Mitchell and Ness sports paraphernalia store.

  “Come on Ray-Ray, it’s lunch time,” he replied and smiled. “But I have to see you. You don’t even know what information I am in possession of. And I cannot tell you over the phone.”

  “Can I get a hint? That’ll help me alter my schedule to meet you for lunch.”

  “Well, let me just say this, DEA Agent McKenzey is not dead.”

  “Oh geesh, tell me something I don’t know.”

  “How about where he’s been hiding?”

  Ravonne furrowed his brow, and winked. That’s my boy, he thought, and then said, “See you at Sole Food in ten.”

  “I’m already there by the piano.”

  24

  PHILADELPHIA,

  SOLE FOOD RESTAURANT, MARKET STREET

  Aramis ended up at Sole Food for lunch that afternoon, sitting with Ravonne in the corner by the piano. Through the large windows they watched cars and people roll pass as the waiter took their order. A University of the Arts student played a Beethoven tune on the piano entertaining the lunch time crowd.

  Aramis was a poor child that had been adopted by a family that lived in the Germantown area of Philadelphia where he had befriended Ravonne. Ravonne was the only kid that did not tease him for wearing hand-me-down clothing or clothing from the thrift shops. Ravonne wasn’t rich, but his father had always been into politics and worked his way from a local City Representative to Mayor and then to his current post, Pennsylvania Governor. Now as adults, Ravonne felt abandoned as he and his father had no relationship and no, Ravonne had not voted him into office.

  Ravonne watched a man usher five small children into the restaurant and didn’t know how he managed to do that. He had one child and he was more than enough. He wanted no parts of five. His thoughts were interrupted by the waitress that slid a glass of Pinot Grigio in his face. “Enjoy,” she told him and then walked off.

  “So, where is the monster?” Ravonne asked and then sipped his drink.

  “Well, he’s right here in the city.”

  Ravonne looked in the air and rolled his eyes. “You got jokes,” he said. “That man is nowhere near here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hiding in Italy.”

  “Yeah, Sicily. ‘Cause you’ve never been to Italy until you’ve been to Sicily,” Aramis said and laughed quietly.

  “I remember that Italian woman told us that the day we had lunch in Georgetown.” He sipped his wine again. “Where is McKenzey, bro? I’m hard pressed to slap the hell out of him. I’ll even go to jail for it.”

  “He’s here.” Aramis pulled out a few photos and passed them to Ravonne. “He makes a lovely woman, right?” Aramis commented as he looked at the anguish spread across his pal’s face.

  “Before, I even mention how absurd this bastard is for this, have you confirmed this?” Ravonne took three more long sips of wine.

  “No. How could I? A woman approached me heading into the office and offered me $10,000 to run a conspiracy theory story in the Inquirer. Of course, I promised to get back with her, but she opened a brief case that had the money. She offered an additional $5,000 to just do it. I took the money and her package and headed to my office. Here is her proposed article,” He handed Ravonne four double-spaced sheets of paper. “Of course,
I have to edit it and...”

  “Edit my ass,” Ravonne cut him off. “You can’t do this. I need you to report this to the prosecutor’s office.”

  “This is news, Ravonne.”

  “Bullshit,” Ravonne said and seemed to have breathed fire. The waitress brought their lunch and Ravonne simply pushed it to the side. He loved the seared lamb loin, but there was no way he could enjoy it, because he had lost his appetite. “You cannot play into this guy’s hands. This will get the city in an uproar and be very detrimental to my Motion to Dismiss in this case which will get Kareem out of jail. I do not want to deal with all of the crap that’ll come to me for this.”

  “Come on, man. I need the attention, and I know your case can use the help. Kareem’s been in jail sometime now and out of the media until now with the riot. He needs to be back in the press. This conspiracy that he and the DEA worked in concert and planned to continue to work together to get out of this scott free is bullshit, and we both know that. Despite that it’s still news. And it’s free money. Hell, I will give you half the money. But I need to run this story. I could snag a morning news interview with ABC if I run this.”

  Ravonne just stared into the air, an action that he used to pretend that he thought about something. He wasn’t a man that changed his mind too often, so there was never anything to think about. The problem here was, he had no idea how this fake report would play out. He was all for fun, games and polluting the minds of potential jurors, but he liked to orchestrate things, because he knew what the end result would be.

  “Let me ask you this, Aramis. What if McKenzey actually has some fraudulent, but believable proof that they did work together? What if this is his way to get revenge on Kareem? This could just go all wrong, man, and I don’t know if I will be able to come up with any damage control.”

  Before Aramis could reply a little white kid ran in front of them and stopped. He looked at them, and then stuck out his tongue before the boy’s father called him back over to their seating area.

  “Ravonne, I am not going to destroy your case, man. This is just a theory. I will be clear that it’s a theory and I will even reveal how I obtained the information to the police when they come to me begging for information. Anything you want me to tell them?”

  “What the fuck?” Ravonne said through clinched teeth. He leaned in and whispered to Aramis, “You better not run this bullshit at all. Do you hear me?”

  Aramis’s cell phone beeped. “That’s my editor. They approved what I wrote.”

  “Don’t do this, Aramis.”

  “I am sorry, Ray-Ray. I am doing this for me. I have to.” He stood up and grabbed his briefcase. “I will email you the full article before it hits the evening paper.”

  Aramis turned to walk away, and Ravonne grabbed his arm. It wasn’t violent, but he caught anger in Aramis eyes. “You listen to me. If any police come asking you questions, you either refer them to me or you let them know that you will only be questioned in the presence of your attorney. And that would be moi. Capeesh?”

  “Yes, man. I got this. You know we’re winning.”

  “I do. Now get out of here,” he replied and pat his best friend on the back. “You’re so lucky that I trust you with my life, or I’d have you assassinated before you reached your office.”

  “You’re crazy as hell, man.”

  “I am. Now I am going to sit here, and enjoy my lamb.”

  “You do that. I am going to chase fame.”

  Aramis walked out of the restaurant onto Market Street, and Ravonne watched him very closely. When he was out of sight, Ravonne pulled out his cell phone and called his lead investigator, Jonathan Rude.

  “Rude, my boy,” Ravonne said, as soon as he answered. “I need you to put a tail on Aramis.”

  “As in follow your best friend.”

  “To the shitter if need be. I will fill you in regarding why later, but for now handle that.”

  Aramis’s life may have been in danger and it was Ravonne’s job to help his best friend.

  25

  PHILADELPHIA,

  UNTIED STATED ATTORNEY’S OFFICE

  When Darryl Stephens was in his last year of law school, he’d told his roommate at Temple Law School, Robert McNeil, “I am going to be the best attorney ever. No bribes will move me.”

  Robert had given him a pat on the back and an encouraging grin, and then said, “As a black man born and raised in the ghetto, you’ve done a fine job getting to a point where you can get out of that situation. Hell, I have too. But you will go on and prosecute those that work to destroy the ghettos, but beware that will go on until the end of time. You may as well make this degree worth it and make the big books defending the guilty, like me.”

  Darryl had wiped his forehead and was disgusted by his roommate’s reason for becoming an attorney. Why did he lack any faith in America cleaning up the areas most plagued by poverty? He wanted to help with his visions of getting criminals drug treatment instead of prison. He envisioned having them sentenced to acquiring skills and other educational tools to make a living, as oppose to committing crime. His entire reason for becoming a prosecutor had been shot to hell when he became a federal prosecutor, and not a local county one. Mandatory minimum prison sentences for low level drug dealers caught in conspiracies made that impossible. And now his current situation with America’s most wanted had really shot his dream to hell.

  I have to get Kareem Bezel out of jail, but how? Prosecutors, even when wrong, did not work hard to have criminals released. And destroy all that they have worked for. Have all of my cases scrutinized to see if they too need to be overturned. I can’t do this, he thought and then picked up his office phone.

  “Chang,” he said into the receiver. “I need you in my office ASAP.” Before Chang could reply, he hung the phone up and then reached in his desk and pulled out his short United States vs. Kareem Bezel file. The bigger file was in a locked file cabinet, but he kept a folder for all of his open cases at his desk for quick notes and other reminders about the case.

  When his office door swung open a tall Chinese man strolled in, and sat on a love seat sofa.

  “So glad you called. They’re killing me on this Mayor of Philadelphia scandal case. I really don’t want to be on that team at all, but I am forced to. What’s up?”

  “I am in a peculiar situation and you know that you’re the only one in this office that I can trust,” Darryl said and walked over to the sofa. He had a seat and flipped through the Bezel case file.

  “So, what’s your new theory on this one? You always have something bizarre to suggest,” Chang said and tapped the Bezel file. Standing at 6’3” Chang was taller than many other Chinese-Americans. He was assigned to the fraud department of the US Attorney’s office and the new lead on the Andre Bezel case.

  “How about this for bizarre? He’s innocent and I need guidance on how to tell the higher ups that I think we dropped the ball on this one.”

  “What do you mean? We are the United States. We don’t drop the ball.”

  “We do, but we sweep it under the rug when the man is guilty. But this time, I know that man is innocent.”

  “How?” Chang asked and stood up. He tilted his head to the side and repeated, “How? He kidnapped a federal agent, albeit a criminal one, and had him killed.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Darryl said and reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Remember I told you that I added that security system and that they gave me an app to view my home whenever I wanted? Well, I was paid a visit by McKenzey and I have the footage to prove it. The man’s not dead, and certainly, Kareem didn’t kidnap him to keep him alive.”

  “Wow!” Chang said and paced the room. “Let me see the phone.”

  Chang took a look at the footage. “There’s no proof that this is really McKenzey dressed as a woman. Additionally, we do not know if Kareem kidnapped him and then was unsuccessful at killing him. So at best this proves that he’s not a murderer, but
he’s a kidnapper. Chang spoke like a true prosecutor. Even when the facts of innocence stared him in the face, he refused to believe that his beloved federal agents had made a mistake.

  “So you think that I should keep quiet and make a case out of nothing? Or come clean and drop the murder charge?”

  “You have no evidence of innocence. Why was McKenzey at your home anyway? What did he say?”

  “Chang, if I told you I’d really have to kill you.”

  “Well, I am ready to die. You’re my best office buddy, and I cannot let you tank your career saving a known criminal. No more dreams of a judgeship if you do this.”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “I don’t give a damn. You have a mountain of evidence to make the case that he did and that is all that matters. That’s all that ever matters. As prosecutors we don’t look for innocence, we just prosecute.”

  “Spoken like a true United States Attorney. I am just not sure that I am ready to do this.”

  “Well, you better be, mister. This city and our bosses are looking for you to nail this bastard to the cross. He has thwarted arrest for all of the state crimes that we know he committed and now you’re talking about letting him off because some man in a wig and dress came and claimed to be the victim. This seems like the best trick in the book. I wouldn’t put this past the Bezel brothers to have sent that person in the video as a prankster to make you think this.”

  Darryl shook his head at the thought that he saw McKenzey and even had sex with him, before he was drugged, bound, and gagged. He knew for fact that this was not a dream, but very real. Am I going to have to tell this man what I really know? How will he look at me? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  “I think I am going to keep this to myself and continue on with this prosecution.”