Murder in Germantown (29 page)

“
You could use the library computer on Chelten Avenue. You need to become familiar with the library anyway. Kinko’s has executive paper in a myriad of colors. You could buy some...”

He cut that bullshit off. “That library is closed. Budget cuts and all that. Why can’t I use the one at your home?”

“
Tonight is not a good night. I have a Judo class with Brandon.”

“
Tomorrow then.”

“
You need this resume done by tomorrow morning.”

“
Then I’ll go home and wait for you to return from Judo class and then I can drive to your spot myself.”

“
That’ll be too late.”

“
You don’t want me in your house?”

“
What?”

“
You’re scared of me Ray-Ray. That’s crazy.”

“
No, I’m not.”

“
You either think that I am going to steal from you? Or that your boyfriend is going to act like a nut?”

“
I would really not trust my judgment if you stole from me.”

“
So it’s your dude?”

“
Put it this way. This is complicated because he was just in a situation where he admitted to cheating, so if I bring you home, it’ll look weird like I am cheating with you.”

“
That’s dumb as shit!”

“
Come on, man. How do you think your girlfriend would respond to you bringing me home?”

“
For one, she would not know that you were gay.”

“
What if she did?”

“
She wouldn’t. Do you think I’d say, hey, Marge, my friend, Ray-Ray here is gay? Guess what else, babe? We used to freak when we were younger. That’s old shit, man. I am focusing on my future. I don’t have a girlfriend and I am cool with that anyway.”

“
So you’re settling for whores when you could be focusing on a strong woman,” I said to him. He ignored me. “Listen, do not deny yourself what you truly want. Do not accept substitutes. You want lobster, so don’t settle for tuna. You can’t get the girl of your dreams, so you settle for a substitute. Wrong. Go for what you want.”

“
Okay, Oprah. You’re digressing. I am no fool,” he said like it was a warning. “What you have is beautiful. I am actually jealous. Not of Dajuan, either, but the whole love affair.”

“
It takes work. A lot. And you’ll find it with some woman soon enough.” I sucked on my milk shake straw, and then said, “True love goes hand and hand with your
promise to success in life. Now, did you get the driver’s manual?” I asked and switched the topic.

He caught me. “Make time for me at the crib. Lover boy doesn’t have to know about us. We are grown, Ray-Ray.”

“
Yeah, but...”

“
But we...”

“
See what I mean?”

“
Nix that. We’re grown. That shit is in the past. We would never do that again. So let’s be say...brothers. That’s thicker than water.”

“
Alright. I am feeling that.”

“
Besides, I am about tired of them hoes and ready to test the waters anyway, but I want a good situation like yours.”

“
Stop trippin’. You’re not ready for all of that. So let that go.”

“
I may be. I am fighting a devil inside me every day. When I see a pretty boy thug like myself, I wanna stop them like a girl, but I can’t.

“
Shit, in today’s day and age you can.”

He chuckled, and then said, “That’s crazy. Listen, can we chat about that personal stuff later? We are here on business.”

“
You’re right.”

“
Okay, did you get the manual?”

“
Yes, and I know it. I had the book in jail.”

“
So you can take the test tomorrow?”

“
I need a physical.”

“
I’ll have my office set you up with one in the morning. Do you have another suit? One that fits?”

“
What!” he barked.

“
Look around,” I said and waved my hand in the air. “None of these suits are baggy and what color are they?”

“
Blue. Black. Some gray.” A nonchalant shrug.

“
And the shoes?”

“
Brown. Black.” Another shrug.

“
I rest my case,” I said. “When we leave here, I want you to go to the store on the corner of 18th and Chestnut Streets. Daffy’s. Put a navy suit on layaway. Three dress shirts. Three ties. And a pair of shoes without designs. Maybe wingtips. Be sure to have your neck measured and try on the suit. I’ll have my assistant pay the balance and pick them up.”

“
Okay, thanks. Anything else, boss?”

“
Earlier we discussed what kind of job you wanted, but what career do you want?”

“
Good question. So good that I will get back to you on it.”

“
You are...” My cell phone rang and interrupted me. It was Marsha’s ringtone. I answered and listened carefully, before I told her that I had it. I then told Kensan, “I have to go now!”

CHAPTER 66

Let me be direct about the way I feel about losing. For me, it has no existence. I don’t lose. I do not let things progress to the point that I cannot arrest losing. As a criminal defense attorney, I researched case law religiously. I always looked for answers in case law before I argued a point before a judge. Sometimes I got them, but others I didn’t get.

I had a phone call from Marsha who gave me answers to a question that had bothered Rude and me. I could have had Rude get answers, but black folks tended to be stubborn when whites showed up on their door steps. So, there I was parking my car near Destiny Dorsey’s home. She resided in a duplex row home in North Philly at 17th and Master Streets. Ordinarily, I avoided the area because I was an armed robbery target. But when duty called, it yelled, and I answered.

I had left Kensan in the car for my vehicle’s protection and began to stroll up Bouvier Street. All of the houses had no porches. No lawns. Just a simple Philadelphia street. Between the curb and the homes, three steps or three feet, and there I was knocking on the door. I heard locks begin to clamor and the door opened.

The man gave me a once-over. He had a bald head and I put his age at 26. He had wide and deep brown eyes. He was high off something. For some reason, he did not look intelligent or generous, but rather cruel and uninviting. Like he was thinking,
Why the hell are you here?

“
Who you?” the man asked me. His voice was dark. So dark, I didn’t remind him that it was
who are you.

“
Is Destiny here,” I asked very cordially.

“
What da fuck you want my bitch fo’?”

It was then that I was reminded that I was in Kuwait, Iraq. I had no business being there without being accompanied by General Braxton Bragg and his troops. “I am a lawyer, and...”

“
You ain’t no fuckin’ lawyer, asshole! You be fuckin’ my whore?” the man asked me, as he stepped out of the door.

Then I sized up his stocky build. He was wide, but mushy. He had a prison-built body, which was all arms and no legs and a gut. I wasn’t taking any chances. I stepped back. Not cowardly, but very natural. The one thing that I knew about the ghetto was that it needed drama to survive. Millions were energized by it. Some people were so dismal and repressed that they were alive when they manufactured drama, gossip, and pain. They had no lives and causing pain to others was easier than college. The man before me was a prime example.

“
I am an attorney, and your companion came up as a potential witness that could help exonerate my client. I need to speak to her.”

I remained calm and was very polite. I did want to piss him off.

The man stepped down two stairs. He was a full head taller than me, and his being on that one step made him tower over me.

“
You that clown that she been fucking! I’m back and that party is over.”

“
That’s great,” I said and smiled. The statement was laced with mocking excitement.

“
You think it’s a game?”

He threw a punch at me with the speed of a speeding train. I moved, but not fast enough to completely dodge the bullet. I instinctively grabbed his arm and snatched him off the step. I had his arm twisted behind him in a compromising position and wrenched his thumb. I should have broken it, as I was taught to do.

The man yelled miserably. Luckily, it was winter and the street was empty. He was on the ground, on his knees, and squirming like a bitch.

“
I’m not fucking her. I don’t want to hurt you, homey,” I whispered.

“
I’mma kill ya ass,” he growled. “Let me go and I’ll kill you.”

I let the bad ass go and quickly stepped back. “What the hell is your problem?”

He stood up, and the idiot threw another punch at me. Considering his height over me his punch was downward and awkward. He had already sucker punched me, so I dipped and his punch landed somewhere in Texas. I delivered two into his soft stomach. He folded like a tortilla shell wrapped over beef and beans, and glared at me murderously. I decked him fiercely enough to put an average man to bed, but he was a bull. He reached out to grab me, but stumbled into a parked car.

“
Man, I am not trying to fight you,” I said. I was breathing heavily and didn’t know how a witness interview turned into a fight. I was winning, but the pain in my face distracted me.

“
Ah, you too late. You fighting for now. Until I get my gun,” he said. His light hue was beet red, and his eye was wrapped in a Pepsi-blue color.

The imbecile jumped off the car, and raced toward me again. I had enough. I broke his nose. I felt the cartilage shift beneath my knuckles, and I was reminded why I even took Judo and boxing. This guy had proved why I needed it. He was holding his face and yelling when a sex siren charged out of the door with a duffle bag. She was strapped with a pistol and raised it into the air.

“
Don’t shoot me. I am a lawyer.”

Not that that mattered, but I was scared to death. Was I about to die in the line of duty?

She pointed the gun at the thug I had been fighting; not me. Thank you, Jesus.

“
You got a car?” she asked me with her gun and eyes trained on the man. She then told the man, “You better not fuckin’ touch me and this is your last time seeing me.” She spat in his face. “You fucking raped me. I should kill you, faggot!”

Hearing her say that brought a bit of fate into the mix. Here he was a rapist and I kicked his ass. Karma at its best. Served him right.

I cupped my right hand with my left, which was in serious pain. The woman was right behind me. I was in a serious quagmire. My right hand felt broken. Kensan had no license, so legally he couldn’t drive. Gun girl was definitely not driving. I walked up to the passenger side of my car, and told Kensan to drive. He looked at me crazily, as the girl hopped into the back seat.

“
This is an emergency,” I told him, as I opened the glove compartment. “The cops will understand.” I then said to gun girl, “Put the gun in here.”

She looked at me through the prettiest little eyes and I could tell that she wanted to protest. Luckily, she complied.

“
Hold on,” I said and got out of the car. I motioned for the woman to get into the front seat. I needed to keep an eye on her from the back seat. When I shut the door, I told Kensan, “Drive!”

“
Where are you taking me? Are you really a lawyer?” the woman asked, as Kensan pulled off.

“
Take me to Einstein,” I told my driver. “Yes, I am a lawyer. I represent Wydell James. He was accused of a triple homicide at the party Suspect had. Are you Destiny?” I asked so that she knew that I knew her name.

“
I am. I do not know shit about Wydell. I was almost killed there,” she said and looked back at me. “How’d you know that I was there?”

“
A little bird told me. Through the grapevine. Were you talking to Low Down when he was shot? Listen, I do not want you as a courtroom witness. In fact, you can forget that we had this conversation. And vice versa. All I need to know is whether you recall the order that the bodies were killed. And if you recall how many shots were fired. Two very simple questions that I pray you can answer.’