Murder in Germantown (40 page)

Bulldozing my way through the small crowds of people, I pissed several people off. I was badge-less and in pursuit of a monster that could’ve made one of them a victim next. It was wise of them to get the hell out of my way. Crossing Chestnut Street, I saw that Ariel had thrown on a ball cap. She was altering her identity.

Shoving and pushing and avoiding eye contact with the people, I managed to get Agent Gibson back on the line. I passed along her wardrobe change to the FBI. To my amazement, Ariel was coming my way. She wiggled out of her blouse, and obviously lost her coat on 13th Street.

Peeking around the corner, I promised Agent Gibson that I would have my wife contained on the corner of 12th and Samson. I watched the ball cap bounce down the block. Faintly, I saw a mustache perched on her face. This had been the most horrifying sight of my life. What I did next was worse, though.

CHAPTER 94

I slugged Ariel with enough force to stop a freight train. Her head snapped sideways. A tooth darted out of her mouth and skirted the concrete. She landed next to the tooth. Going for the kill, I grabbed a handful of her hair which lifted in my hands. Ariel had a close cropped Cesare with waves that rivaled mine under her wig.

Heat consumed me along with admonishing stares from patrons standing outside of the corner bar.

“
What the fuck? Are you crazy?” one of them yelled at me.

He was a buff white man. Probably the bouncer with a gun, and he walked toward me.

I pulled out my weapon.

Blood pounded inside my temples. I was in front of a bar with black people celebrating a day of peace. And there I was having knocked out a woman and taken off her wig.

“
I’m calling the cops,” a loud mouth woman said.

The moment that I lent the bar patrons some attention, Ariel had a gun pointed at me. I was at gunpoint again.

So was she, though.

“
Is that Dajuan Jones?” I heard that sassy woman call out.

First came the siren. Moments later, the lights, flashing blue and red. Un. Be. Fucking. Lievable. A standoff all about me.

I heard a sinister voice and the crowd outside of the bar raced for cover. The voice belonged to the calvary: Agent Quadir Gibson. Neither of them complied. I didn’t either.

“
Dajuan, do not do anything crazy,” I slowly told him.

“
That’s all you’re worried about,” Ariel said to me.

Droplets of blood escaped the gap that I lodged in her mouth.

“
Put your fucking weapons down, now!” Gibson barked as backup arrived.

I watched SWAT team officers scatter everywhere and I dropped my head. I was lost and confused.

“
Don’t look all crazy now,” she said from the ground. “Your man and woman are fighting over you. Aren’t you special? Everybody fighting over that dick.”

Dajuan was silent with his gun hand steady and trained on her. He understood that this was no fight over me. He had me. She used to have me.

“
Ms. Greenland, please put your weapon down. You have a little boy.”

“
Fuck that boy,” she said violently.

“
No fuck you, you stupid bitch!” I told her.

“
I’ve never been stupid. Got away with all of the crimes. I’ll get away with this one, too.”

“
You’re no killer. You’re a wannabe.”

“
Please! Do you believe that your stuck up ass father cheated on your mom. Not with the man’s mother that I shot in your condo anyway. He was an easy hire, but investigated too much. He had to go.”

“
Poignant,” the agent yelled. “But, I need the guns down.”

“
You want me dead, why?” I asked her.

“
That’s an easy one, counselor. Perfection. You helped the man who raped my mother to give birth to me get off scott free.”

“
That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Dajuan said.

He had a voice after all.

“
How poetic,” Ariel said, and in one swift motion, she aimed her gun at Dajuan.

By the time her trigger was aimed at him she had a hole in the center of her chest.

I silently thanked Dajuan, and was prepared to defend him if necessary.

EPILOGUE

TUESDAY, JANUARY 16, 2007

CHAPTER 88

I sat at my desk with the most absurd smirk on my face. I had won. I beat Ariel Greenland. I hoped that she rots in hell for the pain and suffering that she brought my family, chiefly, her son. Despite the death of my wife just the day before, I reported to the firm the next day, as if nothing had happened. After all, nothing really had happened as far as I, Ravonne Lemmelle, was concerned. I would never understand Ariel’s motive and her poor decision making, because I did not believe that it had anything to do with money. Hence, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out, so there I was in the office when my fine legal secretary burst in my office with an invitation.

It was 8 a.m. and I was putting the final touches on questions for my witnesses. This would prove the Motion to Dismiss that made my career, and I wouldn’t miss a beat. If I was able to beat a murder case at the preliminary hearing, I would be pushed into Philadelphia lawyer heaven--a place where the richest criminals fought to get the best representation for the right price. It would define me, and I was prepared to be described as excellent.

I had been requested to meet the assistant district attorney assigned to convict Wydell James at a low key breakfast spot in Center City. I didn’t hesitate to take ol’ Cynthia up on her offer.

I was a tad hesitant as I walked along Market Street, where remnants of my BMW remained scattered about. Yellow crime scene tape blanketed the street, and I pushed past it as if I wasn’t the root of its placement. I was on a peculiar mission, and no doubt one that had to be beneficial to me.
I was prepared to deliver something to the Commonwealth’s prosecutor’s office that they hadn’t experienced often.

Defeat.

My problem was, what they would do to me in return, but I’d cross that bridge when they tried to force one into my country. And, I was not meeting for any sort of
quid pro quo
. Later for that. I was not bargaining a guilty plea in exchange for anything. If that was her motive, she could have hung that up. I was a little sure that Lady Cynthia had been smarter than that, so perhaps this would be a more interesting meeting, and that thought scared me.

I did accept this meeting, because I understood the DA’s office’s tenuous position with the public. A murderer would be on the loose, if Wydell was let out. They had to pin this on someone. And that was nice, but it wouldn’t be my client.

CHAPTER 89

Cynthia sat in a raucous mid-morning diner and that was a bit much for me. I walked in and immediately noticed her standard lawyer coif and scoffed. I walked over to her and asked to have a seat.

“
Sure, this won’t take but a second,” she said and signaled for the waitress. “Coffee?”

“
Sure,” I said, and then added, “but I thought this would be fast.”

“
We’re dismissing our claims against Wydell for murder,” she said and pushed the Commonwealth’s response to my Motion to Dismiss across the table.

I looked at the document as if it was war plans of the Iraqis to attack Americans in the Middle East. I picked it up, and skimmed through it. Essentially, the government contended that what was outlined in the motion that I submitted casted a significant amount of doubt on their case, and they decided to drop the charges.

“
This nice of you, but let’s say that I oppose this subtle written dismissal and ask for a full hearing to really highlight that you have no case, and never did,” I said very boldly. “I may need to block you from ever charging my client again.”

I was in control, right?

She candidly slid another document over to me.

“
What now?” I asked and snatched it up.

I read the heading and smiled.

“
You wouldn’t?”

She folded her hands on the table and cocked her head to the side, and smiled.

“
Try me.”

I sat there and flipped through the charging documents. She interrupted me, and said, “Come on, Ravonne. Of course you had to know that I would pounce on this, sir.”

Wrong
, I thought. She was so very wrong. I had no idea that Dajuan had been convicted of tax evasion three years earlier. Which also meant, I had no idea that he was a convicted felon in possession of a fire arm last night.

“
Now, we have given him a pass for shooting her, despite not having a self-defense rule in our laws. However, that mandatory term of five years in prison, would be pretty open and shut, don’t ya think? I mean, how many news broadcasts have him shooting the woman center mass. Hell, we’ve seen it on YouTube over at the office. Would you like the link? It has over a million views.”

“
Hell no, creep! This is low, even for you.”

I wanted to slap the shit out of her!

“
But you get it,” she said and stood. She shimmied into her coat, and said, “I am sure you can pay for your own coffee,” and then walked away.

“
But what about the Barclay’s committing the murders and framing my client,” I said to her back.

She ignored me.