Justice (37 page)

Decker had originally planned
to jail Ashala until the search warrant came through for the house. Since he knew what evidence he needed, he wanted to comb the place before taking a crack at Kalil. But right now the fleeing felon seemed excessively chatty. Not one to waste an opportunity, Decker booked him, then placed him in a four-by-six interview room. Since Ashala had waived his rights to an attorney, it was just the two of them in a cubicle about as big as a gym locker. Smelled like one, too. As Decker studied Ashala, he realized what a good artist Whitman was. The same high cheekbones and upward-slanting eyes almost giving Ashala an Asian look. Whitman had captured not only the face but kinetics in the expression—from the small, sneering mouth to the dark, jumpy eyes.

Decker turned on the tape recorder, stating all the necessary identification. Then he poured Ashala a glass of water and placed it in front of him. He said, “You want to tell me why you bolted, Kalil?”

“I wasn’t boltin’,” he said. “You was chasin’ me, so I be runnin’.”

Decker waited.

Ashala squirmed. “You was scarin’ me.”

“Scaring you?”

“Stompin’ in like you did. I was afraid you was gonna
bust up the place again. Take a crack at my head while you was at it.”

“I never entered your house, Kalil. Why were you shooting at me?”

Ashala pursed his lips. “Self-defense. You was scarin’ me. I thought you was tryin’ to kill me.”

Decker said, “Let’s try this again, Kalil. Why’d you bolt on me?”

“I didn’t bolt—”

“You didn’t hear the question right, Kalil. You did bolt. That’s a given fact. Now
why
did you do it?”

“You was chasin’ me—”

“Kalil, you were climbing the fence before you even saw my face. I wasn’t chasing you, you ran away. Tell me why.”

Ashala’s eyes went to the ceiling. Decker looked upward at a dozen white acoustical tiles that had seen better days. He returned his attention to the arrestee.

“Kalil, you shot at an officer of the law. That’s attempted murder under special circumstances. You’re going to do time for that. But that’s not the only stick up your butt, sir. I’ve got stuff on you.
Lots
of stuff linking you to nasty things. And I’m sure we’ll find more stuff once we search your house. So if you’ve got a story to tell, I suggest you tell it now.”

“What kind of shit you got on me?”

“Good shit.”

Ashala drank his water, asked for a cigarette. Decker handed him a smoke. That was all he needed—bagged up in a cell under a nicotine cloud twice in one day.

“If I talk to you, I first be needin’ a deal, you dig?”

Decker played along. “What do you want?”

Ashala’s dark eyes darted from side to side as he blew out smoke. “What do I want?”

“Yeah, tell me what you want.”

“You gonna get me what I want?”

“I can’t answer that, Kalil, until you tell me what you’re after.”

“I don’t want to do no time, dig? Maybe like community service. That kind of shit.”

Decker said, “Kalil, tell me about Deanna Green.”

Ashala’s face went flat. “Deanna who?”

“Deanna Green.”

“Don’t know her.”

“Don’t know her at all?”

“Nope.”

“Think again,” Decker said.

Kalil stuffed out his cigarette, curled his lip, and shook his head no. “Don’t know her.”

Decker stared at Ashala for the longest time. Then he said, “I know you from somewhere.”

“Well, I don’t know you.”

Mentally, Decker counted to one hundred. Then he said, “
I
know where I know you from! You used to work at the Grenada West End in the West San Fernando Valley, didn’t you?”

Immediately Ashala looked down. He said nothing.

“You worked in the coffee shop, right?”

The felon looked up, eyes darting from side to side. He remained silent.

“Or was it room service? Maybe it was both.”

Again Ashala looked down, this time to ostensibly study his nails. He shook his right leg up and down.

Decker said, “Were you working the night of that big murder…that prom queen? Man, that was something—”

“I want a—”

Decker pressed against the tape recorder as he leaned over the tabletop. “You want to know something, Kalil? You are fucked beyond
fucked
! Because you know who is sitting in jail for the murder
you
committed—”

“Didn’t do no murd—”

“A
white
boy, Kalil. But not just any white boy—a
Mafia
white boy. And not just any Mafia white boy, the
crime boss’s son
! Do you know anything about the Mafia, Kalil? They were the original Cryps and Bloods—”

“You’re bullshittin’—”

“Ever seen any of the Godfather movies, Kalil? The decapitated horse head in bed…that’s just warm-up—”

“I want—”

“You know they’re making a Godfather Part Four movie? Guess what. You’re gonna be in it.” Decker aimed a finger gun at Ashala’s head. “Ker-
boom
!”

Ashala broke out in a cold sweat. “I can take care of myself. I got
friends
, man.”

“Kalil, you’d better have
lots
of friends. Because if you piss off the Mafia, you’re not safe anywhere and I do mean
anywhere
. Not a jail or a country around that’s gonna save your ass. I drop your name and you’re maggot meat—”

“Fuck you. I’m not afraid of no one.”

“That’s good, Kalil, because the Mafia has lots of friends, too. And you know what their motto is.
Everyone
has to sleep.”

Ashala shuddered, mopping his soaking brow with his shirt sleeve.

Decker said, “Buddy, if you want to deal with me, then talk to me. If not, take your chances and deal with
them
!”

Ashala was silent.

Decker sat back in his seat. “Ah, would you
look
at what happened. I accidentally depressed the pause button on my tape recorder. Careless of me.” He flicked the cassette player back on record. Calmly, he said, “Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer, Mr. Ashala?”

Ashala turned off the tape recorder. “What do you
want
?”

Decker turned the recorder back on. “Cheryl Diggs.”

Ashala started to sweat. “Diggs the white girl who was offed?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ to her.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You screwed her. I know it, you know it.”

A long pause.

“Maybe I did,” Ashala said. “But that don’t mean nothin’. She already be dead.”

Decker felt his blood pressure shoot up, but he kept a stoic demeanor. “Try again, Kalil.”

“But that be the truth.”

“You tied her up, Kalil.”

“’Cause I got nervous. That maybe someone be watchin’ me leave the place. So I tied her up like the boyfriend did.”

Decker paused. “Like her boyfriend did? Did what?”

“He tied her up. I knowed because Trupp’s got hidden video cameras in the rooms.”

“Henry Trupp, the night clerk?”

“He be the one.”

“He placed hidden video cameras in the rooms?”

“That’s the truth. See, we had this thing goin’. I watch for him while he does his thing. He watches for me while I do my thing.”

“What was his thing?”

“Watchin’ people fuck.”

Trupp was in the back room, watching TV…rather teevees
. Decker groaned inwardly. No more hotels
ever
. From now on, vacation would be sleeping bags and a Winnebago. To Kalil, he said, “What was your thing?”

“B and Es while the people slept. Henry be my lookout. Sometimes Henry be wantin’ a cut, but that’s okay. ’Cause sometimes I’d watch the action with Henry.” Ashala smiled. “Lots of nasties goin’ down. Better than rentin’ a video ’cause it’s
live
, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Did you watch the action on the night of the white girl’s murder?”

“They was puttin’ on a show so I watched.” Ashala played with his water glass. “Got me too hyped up for the girl. I only did her ’cause she was already dead.”

“How do you know she was dead?”

“She wasn’t movin’.”

“So why did you strangle her?”

Ashala didn’t answer.

“Why’d you strangle Cheryl Diggs, Kalil, if she was already dead?”

Ashala shrugged. “Just in case.”

Decker ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is that also why you tied her up?”

“No, I tied her ’cause that’s what the boyfriend did, you dig?” Ashala shrugged. “Anyway, it looked like fun.”

“You like ropes, Kalil?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes the bitches like it, too. She sure liked it when he did it…howling like a hound dog. So why not me?”

“Why not indeed.”

“Yeah. Right. So what if Henry was lookin’ on. He was a perv hisself. See, Henry didn’t care what I did to the ho. Except then things got heated up.”

“Go on,” Decker prodded.

Ashala squirmed in his seat. “I ain’t sayin’ no more.”

“Kalil, Kalil, Kalil…” Decker took a drink of water. “How can I do anything for you if you don’t
talk
to me? Tell me about Henry Trupp. Was he nervous…maybe saying things that made you nervous?”

Ashala blurted out, “I did all those people a
favor
, man. See, Henry got a collection. He not only watched, he
taped
! Got money from it ’cause like I said, there was lots of nasties goin’ down in the hotel…old men doing thirteen-year-old girls, you dig? I did everyone a
favor
.”

Ashala sat back, feeling very self-righteous. Decker kept his expression flat. “So Trupp was a peeper and a blackmailer. Yes, he was a bad guy. What kind of favor did you do for all those people?”

Ashala was silent.

Decker said, “You want any kind of deal, you’re going to have to cooperate.”

“I didn’t
do
the white girl,” Ashala said. “Like I tole you, she already be dead.”

“But you strangled her.”

“Just in case. She was dead.”

Decker formulated his thoughts. “Tell me about Trupp.”

“I don’t say nothin’ about him unless we deal.”

“We found physical evidence to stick Trupp on you, Kalil. Cooperate and maybe you won’t sizzle.”

Again, Ashala said nothing.

Decker said, “You don’t want to talk about Trupp, how about Deanna Green? Tell me about Deanna Green.”

“I tell you I don’t know no Deanna Green.”

“Kalil,” Decker said, “you’ve met her. I’ve got witnesses saying she was in your house.”

“That don’t mean I’ve met her.”

“I have witnesses saying you’ve met her.”

Ashala jumped out of his seat. “Then they’re
lying
!”

Decker stood. “
Sit!…down
!”

“No problem.” Ashala held his hands up, then sat down. “No problem.”

Slowly, Decker settled back in his seat. “Tell me about Deanna Green.”

“You give me a deal?”

“No, I can’t do that. That’s up to the district attorney. But cooperation may earn you brownie points. You know Deanna Green. Tell me about it.”

Ashala scratched his chin. “I knowed her, yeah. But I didn’t kill her.”

“You didn’t kill her?”

“No.”

“Did you have sex with her the night she was murdered?”

Ashala looked away.

“Look at me, Kalil,” Decker said. “I got you pinned to Deanna, too. Physical evidence doesn’t fib.”

“I didn’t kill her!”

“You didn’t kill her, you didn’t kill Cheryl Diggs.
Man, you are just in the wrong place at the wrong time, then.”

“You’re right!” Ashala cried out. “That’s essackly it.”

Decker said, “Kalil, did you have sex with Deanna Green the night she was murdered?”

He looked down and nodded. “But I didn’t kill her.”

“You raped her, but didn’t kill her?”

“No, I didn’t
rape
her. I was just help teachin’ her a lesson, that’s all.”

And then the light went on. “You were just helping to teach her a lesson,” Decker paraphrased. “What was the lesson? You don’t mess with your sister?”

Ashala looked down. “I didn’t kill Deanna Green.”

“Tell me who did.”

“If I give you Deanna, I don’t want to do no time for rape or murder or…” He looked up. “Something like community service shit, dig?”

Decker said, “You are in
dreamland
, my friend.”

“I didn’t do Green, I didn’t do Diggs. She be dead.”

“You strangled her, Kalil.” Decker ticked off his fingers. “I got you for Diggs, I got you for Trupp—”

“Man, I did everybody a favor with that motherfuck.”

Bingo! Got him for Trupp, Decker thought. Calmly, he said, “Tell me about your sister and Deanna. Whose idea was it to teach Deanna a lesson?”

“Not mine. I hardly knew the bitch.”

“Whose idea was it, Kalil?”

Resigned, Ashala slumped in his seat. “Fatima was mad ’cause Deanna didn’t want her no more. Deanna be thinking herself as a real classy bitch ’cause she was Catholic and her parents were rich. Looking down her nose at us ’cause we were poor and didn’t accept her
Jesus
. Pissed Fatima off. She axed me to help her teach the bitch a lesson.”

“How’d you do it?”

Kalil leaned in close as if talking to a friend. “The way it work was this. Fatima threw a rock at Deanna’s
window and Deanna open the door to let her in. You know. ’Cause Deanna thought they still be friends even if they weren’t
that
kind of friends, you dig?”

“Go on.”

“Fatima kept the door open for me. While Deanna and my sister were talkin’ in the bedroom, I came in. And then we both jumped her.”

Decker waited. “I need details, buddy.”

Ashala looked away. “I held her down, but it was Fatima who tied her up like her holy Jesus. Fatima liked that. Bitch lived by her God, she be dead like her God.”

“What about you? You told me you like using ropes.”

“Yeah, it’s fun.”

Decker paused, collecting his thoughts. Quirk of fate that both Kalil and Whitman liked ropes. So who
really
was responsible for Cheryl’s death?