Hot Flash (23 page)

Avoiding the questions, I said, “You look good, all healed up. How are you feeling?”

“Come here.” Calvin guided me into his embrace. “Just be safe.”

I left Calvin's and went home to shower and change. When I finished dressing, I checked my phone. Two more missed calls from Travis. I clicked the Call Back button again.

“Now, I wonder how obedient you can be,” Jesse Boone said. “Don't say a word. Listen. You get my money—all of it. Don't play with me, bitch, or I'll make sure they both beg me to kill them—your son, oh, wait a minute,
our
son, and your baby's mama.” His evil laugh gave me goose bumps. “Be talking to you real soon,” he said, and hung up.

C
HAPTER
22

I
called Laughton, and for once he answered. Within ten minutes, he was pounding on my front door like a crazy person.

“You have the money?” he asked.

“I only found out about the money when you told me,” I said. “Nareece never . . .”

“The money doesn't really matter. He'll kill them both anyway. I got a lead from my man where he is. He's not at the mill building.”

“Laughton, call Cap. We might need backup.”

“No way. Someone in the department is on Jesse's payroll.”

“But we can trust Cap.”

“No. I have reason to believe he may be the man on the inside.”

“Cap can't be the man on the inside. He just can't be. Cap's been a good friend to me and Nareece. He was my father's best friend. He wouldn't do something like this, and besides, I'd know. Why would he turn Nareece over to Jesse Boone, or let someone like Boone go free to kill people? Not happening.”

“Yeah, well, we'll revisit that after we get Travis and Nareece back.”

We drove to Haverford Avenue in West Philly to an abandoned factory building that used to house the Philadelphia Traction Company. Laughton cruised by the front of the building, turned the corner, and parked half a block down from the rear entrance.

“Jesse will kill her before letting anyone else have her,” he said. “And Travis . . .”

We sat in silence for at least an hour. Waiting. Watching. I flipped through everything that had happened in the past month, twenty years' worth of ugly crammed into four weeks.

“Laughton, do you know anything about my parents' death? Nareece said it was because of her involvement with Jesse.”

He shifted in his seat away from me. “Dad remembered your father from the old days, before the Black Mafia got outrageous. Your dad and my father had a connection early on when folks were about making the neighborhood a safe place to live. Your dad was a good guy, always helping folks out. When things got funky with drugs and shit, your father walked. Funny thing, Pop always respected your father for his decision to walk away from that life. Your father had a fit over Jesse and Carmella hooking up. He asked my father to stop it, but Pop refused. Your father threatened to go to the police, since Carmella was a minor.”

“So your father had him killed.”

Laughton did not respond.

“Where were you in all of this?”

“I was around, going to school, learning the business. I met Marcy during those days. I loved that woman. We were married on July 17, 1971.” He stayed quiet for a few minutes, remembering. He shifted in his seat again, this time facing front, sat straighter, and started talking again.

“Richard jumped up one side of Jesse and down the other to leave Carmella alone, not because of your father's threats, but because of who he was and how much he respected him. Richard always got on Jesse about everything and nothing. Anyway, after Carmella destroyed the drugs and took off with the money, Richard did a one-eighty and told Jesse he'd kill him if he didn't take care of her.”

“How come you didn't stop him?”

“Carmella called me, out of her mind with grief, and begged me to help her get away. Like I told you, I hid her in a hotel in Jersey, but she insisted on going back home. Said she couldn't leave without making things right with you.”

“That's when she came home and Jesse tried to kill her. Thought he had killed her. She was waiting for me.” I rested my head in my palms, trying to absorb the insanity. My brain started flashing pictures again. This time of the crash site where my parents were killed, Nareece's battered body, my mother's smile, the funny face Dad made when in his silly mode. The screen went black, and I took my hands away. Laughton sat motionless, staring down into his lap.

I growled and lunged across the console, punching and clawing at Laughton's face, wanting to make him bleed, to leave a scar so deep the world could see it. For the second time that day, I wished him dead and gone.

“Muriel, stop, don't do this shit again,” Laughton shouted, struggling to grab my arms. When he finally captured them, he pushed me back in the seat. “Don't pretend you're innocent in all of this.”

“What does that mean?”

“You could have told her to return the money.”

“I told you, I didn't know about the money until now, or even about Jesse and Carmella. None of it.”

“Look, it's all going to end here, and you and Carmella can go on living your lives and not have to worry. Jesse Boone is going to be gone. If I had just stepped up years ago, none of this would be happening.” Laughton cocked his 9mm Glock and turned to me. “I'm sure it's pointless, but I'ma tell you anyway, stay in the car.”

Twenty years as a weapons examiner and I'd never chased a bad guy, never even had a fight other than with Jesse Boone after he killed the college student. I could kick some butt now, but the opportunity had never presented itself. And I'd only fired my weapon once. I turned toward Laughton. His lips were moving, but I could not hear his words, only the ringing in my ears until he shouted my name.

“Don't even think about going alone,” I said.

I stopped talking as the same black SUV that I had seen many times, along with a silver Mercedes, drove up to the rear of the building. Three men got out of the SUV, one of them Jesse. He helped Nareece out of the back. By “helping,” I mean she seemed willing and at ease, letting him guide her by the elbow, but not in a dragging or threatening manner, what I would have expected. I sensed she was drugged.

Laughton pushed the door halfway open and moved to get out, then stopped and said, “We might as well finish it right here.” He closed the door. “Is Travis Carmella's son?”

I could not answer.

“Carmella said she was pregnant the night she called. You never talked about going through pregnancy or childbirth. You never talk about the boy's father, whether you loved him, why you split from him, nothing. Seventeen years—seventeen years we're partners, together every damn day, and yeah, you're right, we don't have a clue about each other.”

My throat tightened.

“You trusted me with your life every day, but never with your heart.” Laughton took his cell phone from his pocket and made a call. “Come in guns blazing, man. I'll get them out front, then just do it,” he said into the phone, then clicked off and threw the phone onto the dashboard. “Trust me now, M.”

No more
, I thought. “Let's go,” I said, and we got out of the car.

Laughton led the way to the rear of the building, where a man stood guard. Laughton signaled to hold up behind a car parked across the driveway. He holstered his gun and walked up to the guy, then exchanged greetings and more mumblings before Laughton knocked him out with a single punch. He waved me forward. I stepped out and stumbled, twisting my ankle. Laughton rushed back to help me and held my arm. I pulled away and moved on, faking it through the pain from my ankle. It was not bad enough to be a sprain, but it still took a minute for me to adjust. There was no way I was not going in with Laughton.

We entered a darkened hallway. A hundred yards down was an entrance that led into an open area, empty with at least forty-foot ceilings. To the right, was a staircase—a long, steep staircase. Voices came from above. Laughton motioned me to stay behind him, as he approached the staircase, seemingly the only way up.

What if someone decides to come down as we're climbing up? What if a stair step creaks?
I began to hyperventilate. “Please, God, not now,” I whispered, my insides heating up. I readjusted my grasp on the gun. Laughton looked back at me and raised his finger to his lips.

My stomach bubbled.

At the top of the stairs, we turned left to a doorway that was three-quarters closed.

“Leave her alone, asshole.”

I froze, stung by the recognition of Travis's voice.

The sound of footsteps made us move, one on each side of the door. I had a sliver view from my side. Nareece was slumped over on the couch, an arm resting across her back. Travis's arm. Boone passed back and forth like a panther preparing to pounce. I wanted to rush in shooting, but Travis and Nareece might be killed in the cross fire. I could not tell who else was in the room nor how many from the limited view. I motioned Laughton to my side. He motioned me back down the stairs. A silent argument ensued before we made our way back down the stairs and outside.

Laughton ran his hand over his head. “He's out of his mind.”

“Laughton, I'm not leaving without Travis and Reece.”

“C'mon,” he said, moving back toward the car, I surmised to wait for the cavalry he'd called. Almost immediately after we got in the car, shots were fired.

I bolted out of the car ahead of Laughton and raced inside, up the stairs, and kicked the door open. Jesse walked backward toward another exit dragging Nareece along with one arm while, with the other, aiming his pistol at Travis, who was laid out on the floor. Jesse moved the gun away from Travis, back at Nareece's head. He then disappeared out the door, leaving three men with guns cocked. A fourth man lay on the floor with a gunshot to the head.

“Give me the boy and we all walk away alive,” Laughton said. He kept his gun pointed on the lead man.

I stood in the center of the room, my gun aimed at another of the men. “C'mon, Travis, come over here,” I said.

Travis got up from the floor and moved slowly toward me. When he got close, I stepped in front of him and walked us backward to the door. Once there, I grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door and down the stairs. I heard shots ring out, then the door slammed and Laughton was at my back.

We burst through the door and kept running.

Jesse's men came out the door behind us shooting. I fell, smashing my face into the pavement, pushed down by a heavy weight, which pinned me down. I turned my face sideways and saw Travis duck behind a Dumpster at the side of the building. The whirring noise of bullets echoed above my head. An eerie silence followed. I felt the weight being lifted off of me, my body being turned over. Two blurred faces came into focus, Travis and Calvin. Laughton lay next to me. I struggled to sit up with Calvin's help. Travis moved to Laughton and lifted his upper body to his lap, sobbing and willing him to wake up.

C
HAPTER
23

S
irens wailed in the distance, as Calvin pulled me up and steadied me, then reached his hand out for Travis. “Let's go, son,” he said. He bent over and grasped Travis's elbow. Travis looked up at me. Tears cleared paths down his dirt-smudged cheeks, his right eye bulged black and blue, and his lower lip, cracked and swollen, dripped blood.

“They got my man, Laughton,” Calvin said, nodding toward two men who had approached from behind us. “We need to go before the police get here.”

Travis and I allowed Calvin to guide us to a dark sedan. He turned the car around and drove down the side street where Laughton and I had parked, turned right down a driveway, then blasted across a main street and through another driveway before he slowed.

I twisted around to Travis. His pants and shirt were stained with Laughton's blood. “Travis, baby, you're all right.”

Travis nodded with deadened eyes.

I turned sideways to Calvin. “He's still got Nareece,” I said to Calvin.

“Let's get you and Travis safe first.”

Prickly fingers massaged my cheekbones. Blood dripped in my lap. I gently touched my cheek and felt dirt and pebbles and torn flesh. I settled in the seat and dug deep for the strength to handle what would come next.

“You know the police are going to be all over this?” Calvin said.

“Yes.”

“With you all and Laughton out of the way, they'll think it was a drug deal or something gone bad.”

I looked sideways at Calvin and started to speak, then decided to keep my mouth shut.

When we got to Calvin's, I led Travis to the living room and helped him lie down on the couch. I knelt on the floor beside him and held his limp hand.

“Baby, I'm sorry about all this. I should've told you some things a long time ago.” I placed his hand under the afghan and got up. “Everything's going to work out, you'll see.”

When Travis appeared to be resting, I went on a search of Calvin. He was at the sink when I entered the kitchen.

“We don't have a fix yet on Jesse,” he said. I sat at the table. Calvin came to me and dabbed at my face with a wet cloth. “It'll take a minute.”

“She might not have a minute.”

“There's nothing else to do right now but wait.”

“Who the hell are you? How did you even know we were there?”

He pulled me up from the chair and held me pressed against him. I wished he could absorb my whole body, leaving nothing, no part of me, exposed to what was happening outside of his house, the room, that moment.

I pulled away and hurried to the bathroom. I held to the sides of the sink and gasped at the reflection of half my face scraped off, the other half normal, presenting a perfect picture of the two people fighting for existence within me.

My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket and made me jump.

“You really fucked up. You fuck with me again, and I'll kill her, you bitch,” Jesse snarled.

“Is she alive? I want proof that she's alive.” I heard rustling on the other end before Nareece's voice, robot-like, came on.

“Get the money, M. Get the money so he doesn't kill me. I don't want to die. I don't care about the money.”

Jesse came back on. “I'll destroy everything precious to you, those precious little girls, the boy, your girlfriend. Get the money. I'll call back.”

He clicked off. I called Dulcey.

“We're fine, the twins are fine, I'm fine,” she said. “What's wrong?”

“Dulcey, listen to me. Take the girls to your sister's and call me when you're safe.”

“We're safe right here.”

“Just do it, Dulcey. I'm going to finish this, but I need to know you all are somewhere you can't be found.”

When I came out of the bathroom, Calvin was talking to two men. I glanced from them to Calvin, wanting news about Laughton.

“Laughton will live, but Jesse's still nowhere, disappeared. Nobody's talking,” one of the men said.

I went to the living room to check on Travis. He was sitting up on the couch with his head back, eyes closed.

I nudged his leg and said, “C'mon, we have to go.”

I helped him up and guided him into the kitchen, where Calvin was at the door talking to the two men. He finished and closed the door.

“I need your car,” I said.

“There's nothing to do but wait, Muriel, so get some rest.”

“I want to take Travis home,” I said, struggling for control. Calvin reluctantly gave me his car keys and said he would check in when he learned something.

When we pulled up to the house, Travis opened his door to get out.

“Stay here,” I demanded, and took my gun from my pocketbook.

“I'm not letting you go in by yourself, so don't even waste your breath.” Said like his mother's son.

After checking that everything in the house was as it should be, I waited for Travis to change clothes.

We left Calvin's car and drove mine to the family house in the West Mount Airy section of Philly, 7048 Lincoln Drive. Mount Airy was just outside Center City and host to Fairmount Park. Twenty minutes into the drive, which put us a few blocks away from the house, Travis said, “That guy, the one that has Aunt Nareece . . .” He stopped mid-sentence.

My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. Heat rose up my neck. I kept my attention straight ahead.

“He said I resembled him, but that I looked more like my mother than I did him.”

I pulled in the driveway of my parents' house, threw the handle in Park, and shut the car off. I took my gun from my pocketbook and checked it, then opened the car door.

“Ma, he said Aunt Reece was my mother.”

I closed the car door and pushed Travis down in the seat as car headlights flashed by. When they passed, I checked around.

“We'll talk later,” I said. “We need to do this right now.”

“Do what, Ma? Whose house is this? Why are we here?”

“Just come with me. I'll explain later.”

I gathered up the screwdriver and hammer I'd brought along and opened the car door. Inside the house, I closed and locked the front door. The last tenants had moved out a few months earlier, so the air was stale and smelled of urine and cigarette smoke, which probably meant some homeless folks had been living there.

No fond memories, sounds of peaceful laughter, or longing held me. Not that I didn't remember happy times in this house. I did, but the last memory was of Nareece being hurt, and that memory was the one that stuck.

I maneuvered my way around the house, turning on lights and checking the rooms and closets for intruders, Travis following my every movement. A broken window in the back family room let me know how squatters got in. When I was satisfied that we were the only ones in the house, I moved down the hall to the basement entrance and down the stairs.

The half-finished basement had wallboard in its natural state and charcoal-colored indoor-outdoor carpeting. Built-in storage bins ran the length of a side wall. I opened the center bin and found a Barbie doll's head in one corner, and a few red, white, and blue Legos piled in another. I knelt on the floor and tapped the sides, listening for a hollow sound. There were not any screw heads showing, so I pressed, but the side did not budge. A closer look revealed a slight differential in the corners of the right side panel. I scraped the spot with the screwdriver. Travis leaned over my shoulder.

“All this time, all these years, I looked everywhere. Never guessed it would be right here, somewhere in this house.”

Startled, we jerked around to Cap, standing over us holding a .38. Travis stumbled back against the wall.

“Never once did you mention the money. I tried everything to get you to talk about it with me, but you never even hinted about it.” He shook his head and smirked. In a snap, his face reverted to the soft, fatherly expression I knew. “I'm sorry about all this, Muriel. Things did not work out the right way.”

“What're you talking about, Cap? What're you doing?” I had a difficult time believing Cap would shoot either one of us, but something about his facial expression, the hollow sound of his voice, made me nervous. I stood up and stepped sideways to block Travis.

“Cap, this doesn't make any sense. You can't be serious about this. I didn't even know about the money.”

“Shut up, Muriel,” he commanded. “I'm doing what I have to do to live. I've been watching your back for twenty years. Watching and making sure you, Nareece, and the boy had everything you needed.” He wiped his brow with his forearm and then continued. “Yes, and at my own expense.”

I must have looked confused. I
was
confused.

“Don't act like you're ignorant about what I'm saying. Or maybe you are. Maybe you ignored everything so you wouldn't have to deal. Well, I've had to deal with your parents' death, with your sister's pain, and with you. Now I'm going to deal with me and mine.”

“You can't kill us. So what're you going to do with us?”

“I'm not going to kill you.” He stepped in closer and eyed the panel. “Finish the job,” he said.

I hesitated.

“Muriel, for once in your life, listen to me.”

For a moment I reflected on how many times people had said that same statement to me in the past few days—Nareece, Laughton, and now Cap.

“I don't want to kill you, but don't think I won't if you don't do what I'm telling you. I didn't mean for all this to happen.” He waved his gun in front of him and teetered back and forth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as though he was intoxicated. “Damn your father, always the good guy. Esther and Elliot's death is on my head. I've had to live with that for twenty years. I can't do this anymore. I gotta get away, far enough where they won't find my wife, where she'll be safe. Where I can set my kids up and no one will connect them to me.”

“Cap, you're not making any sense. You can't just move your kids and their families . . .”

“I can do anything with enough money.”

“And you think two million dollars is enough money?”

“No, but five million dollars is.” He focused on Travis. “Boy, move. Get in there and get the money.”

Now I was really confused. Nareece said there was two million dollars here, yet Cap talked about five million. What would he do when he found out the amount was less than he expected?

I turned to Travis and motioned for him to work on the screws. He knelt down and began scraping the paint away from the screw heads. Cap moved up behind me. I swung around at the same time Travis stood up, knocking me into Cap and sending him backward, his arm waving upward as the gun exploded. I rushed him. He recovered and smashed his fist into my face, sending me reeling back into the wall. Cap brought the gun around as I pushed off from the wall and kicked his arm away. The gun flew out of his hand and discharged again. Travis circled around behind Cap as he lunged toward me, his face contorted, teeth bared like a madman's. I side-kicked his stomach. As he bent forward, I punched upward to his jaw, sending him backward into Travis. His face flushed. He lifted one arm behind his head like he was reaching for something. Red-faced and wide-eyed, he fell forward into my arms, his weight pressing me to my knees. It was then that I saw the screwdriver protruding from his lower back, the screwdriver that Travis had put there. I rested him on the floor sideways and toppled over to a sitting position next to him.

After a few moments of silence while the dust settled, we got comfortable in our assumed positions, and our breathing slowed. I supposed I was in shock.

“I'm . . . I'm sorry,” Cap said. “I didn't mean to hurt . . .”

“Shh,” I said.

“. . . your father . . . I'm the reason they killed him and Esther. Forgive me,” Cap sputtered. “Jesse's out of control. He'll kill Nareece.”

“Do you know where he's holding her? Are
you
Jesse's inside man?” I got down close to his face. “Did you tell him about us, about me and Nareece?”

“So many years passed . . . It got more messed up,” he said.

“Damn, Cap,” I said, whacking his shoulder.

“I couldn't get out. Bancroft Building.” He closed his eyes and grunted out a long breath.

“Cap.” I shook him, hard.

His eyes opened and he flashed a half smile. “I love . . .” He sucked in, released the breath, and flopped forward on my foot.

“Bastard,” I screeched and pushed myself back against the wall, using him as leverage.