Murder on the Down Low (7 page)

A faint smell of mildew seemed to emanate from the area that housed Eddie’s rumpled futon bed. Special didn’t even realize they still made futons. If he hadn’t been a computer nerd she would’ve made some smart-ass crack. But weird guys like Eddie were supposed to live in places that looked like high-tech junk yards.

Eddie thrust out his hand. “Payment please.”

Special was hoping to talk him down, but seeing the look on his face, she doubted she would be able to.

“Uh . . . I need to talk to you about the price, Eddie. I was wondering if you could—”

“It’s seven hundred dollars and I’m not taking any IOUs,” Eddie snapped. “Computer hacking is a felony. You’re lucky I’m even willing to do it this cheap. I’ve already put a lot of time into this. I stayed up until two last night working on it.”

“You said it would only take a few hours.”

“Well, I was wrong. I’m used to working with stateful inspection firewalls. That law firm has proxy firewalls.”

Special started to ask what the hell he was talking about, but let it drop.

“And if you don’t have cash,” Eddie continued, his hand still extended, “the deal’s off.”

Since when did Eddie get so assertive? At the office he barely spoke above a mumble and rarely looked anyone in the eye.

Special reluctantly pulled an envelope from her suede Prada bag. “Here,” she said, slapping it into his hand. She had borrowed three hundred dollars from Vernetta and the rest from her father. “But if this doesn’t work, I want my money back.”

“It’ll work. I’ve already pulled up the law firm’s email list. Have a seat.”

“Where?” Special scanned the room. “You don’t even own a couch.”

“I didn’t get a chance to fold up my futon,” he said, apologetically. He picked up a stack of magazines sitting atop a stool and set them on the floor. “You can sit on this.”

Eddie took a seat in front of one of the computers. Special watched as he connected a series of cables from her laptop to his much larger desktop version.

“With all the computers in here, why’d you need me to bring mine?”

“’Cause I don’t want any forensic evidence on my computer.”

Forensic evidence?
“Look, Eddie, I need you to drop the
CSI
lingo and speak English. I thought you said they wouldn’t be able to trace anything back to us.”

Eddie’s left cheek twitched. “Not
us
. You. If something goes down, I had nothing to do with this.”

“But you said—”

“Just calm down. I have everything under control. I’m just being extra careful. They won’t be able to trace anything back to you or me because I’m using my neighbor’s AP.”

Special’s forehead creased.

“AP means access point.” Eddie typed a series of key strokes. “That’s—”

Special held up her hand. “Don’t even bother explaining. How long is this going to take?”

“As long as it has to,” Eddie grunted. “So don’t start rushing me.”

Computer nerds were so temperamental, Special thought. “You got anything to eat?”

“Yeah, help yourself. I don’t get room service here.”

Special wanted to thump him in the head, but instead got up and maneuvered the obstacle course that led to the kitchen. It was barely big enough to house Eddie’s toaster, microwave oven and a refrigerator the size of a hotel mini-bar. When she opened the refrigerator, a rotten smell assaulted her nostrils.

“Did something die in here or what?” she mumbled to herself.

She spotted two Chinese takeout containers and a dried-up slice of pizza. She closed the door and opened the only cabinet. She found a bag of Fritos and popped a couple into her mouth.

“Ugh! These are stale!”

“Shhhhh!” Eddie said. “I’m trying to work.”

Instead of returning the bag to the cabinet, she tossed it in the trash.

Special walked up to Eddie and peered over his shoulders. “So what are you doing now?”

“I’m setting up the programs and systems to test.” Eddie looked up and smiled warmly at her. He obviously got off on this stuff. “I’m basically casing the joint,” he continued, in lecture mode. “Before a bank robber robs a bank, he makes a trip to check everything out. That’s basically what I’m doing. Scanning the law firm’s network. This stuff takes precision, home girl.”

Home girl?
Special sat down on the stool and crossed her arms. “So where’s your TV?” She scanned the room.

“Don’t have one.” Eddie never took his eyes off the computer monitor. “Ruins the brain cells.”

Special searched for something to read. Everything she picked up was either a computer magazine or a comic book. She took an emery board from her purse and began filing her nails.

“Now, I’m spoofing your address so they can’t trace anything.” Eddie appeared to be enjoying his own play-by-play. “And once I’m through doing that, I’m going to hack into their email system.”

After another twenty minutes, Eddie yelped with glee. “We’re in!” He hopped up. “Everything’s set up. All you have to do is type in your message.”

Special pulled a piece of paper from her purse and sat down in front of the monitor. She had stayed up past midnight working on the precise wording of her message. She had rewritten it at least ten times.

Eddie turned his back to her.

“What are you doing that for?”

“I don’t wanna know what you’re typing,” Eddie said. “I’m the best hacker there is. But if I ever have to take a lie detector test, I’ll be able to say I had no idea what kind of message you were sending.”

“Whatever.” Special pecked the computer keys. “So this email will go to every employee in the firm at exactly seven tomorrow morning, not just the attorneys, right?”

“Yep.” Eddie still had his back turned. “Everybody at the firm who has an email address will receive it. Even employees at offices in other states.”

When she finished typing the message, she scrolled up to the subject line and typed “Important Alert—Read Immediately!” She read through the message three times to make sure everything was spelled correctly.

“So can I send it?” Special asked excitedly.

Eddie gave her a thumbs up.

As Special clicked the send button, a devilish smile lit up her entire face.

J
efferson blinked in confusion as he peered down at his wife, who lay sprawled on the couch watching TV.

“You’re home before ten. Did your law firm burn down?”

Even after a long day at the office, Jefferson usually found Vernetta reading a brief or giving her fingers a workout on her BlackBerry. Not decked out in her favorite sweats watching a rerun of
The Bernie Mac Show.

“For your information, I’ve been home since four-thirty.” She waved her hand from side to side, motioning for him to get out of the way. “Move. You’re blocking the TV.”

He stepped aside, then scanned the coffee table. It was littered with an empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, two Almond Joy wrappers, and a half-empty Strawberry Snapple bottle.

Jefferson picked up one of the candy wrappers. “Are you okay? Did somebody die?”

Vernetta answered his wisecrack with narrowed eyes. “Very funny.” She sat up and stretched. “Just another wacky day at the wonderful offices of O’Reilly & Finney. I couldn’t take it. So I left.”

Jefferson plopped into an adjacent chair and started untying his work boots. “So what happened?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just more crap from Haley. She basically showed me up at a very important client meeting. Let’s just say
she
came off looking like the senior associate, not me.”

“I don’t know why you let that girl get to you.”

“She doesn’t get to me.”

“Sounds that way to me.”

Vernetta shrugged. “So how was your day?”

“Same old, same old.” He kicked off his boots, laced his fingers behind his neck and sank down in the chair. “How’s Special doing? Any better?”

“Nope. I talked to her earlier today. I don’t think she’ll get a peaceful night’s sleep until Eugene gets hit by a bus.”

“That’s understandable.” Jefferson yawned, which made Vernetta do the same about three seconds later. “That brother better be glad he didn’t date one of my sisters. Special has a right to be hot.”

“I’m okay with her being hot, but I’m beginning to think she may need professional help. The idea that Eugene could possibly live another fifty years is killing her.”

“If I were him, I’d be packing up and moving out of state ’cuz Special ain’t about to forgive or forget.”

“I think she will,” Vernetta said, “in time.”

Jefferson stuck out his hand. “Bet.”

“Bet what?”

“Bet she goes after him.”

“Special is all talk. Her anger will pass.”

“No way. Special’s the kind of woman who won’t rest until she gets her revenge. Don’t forget about that guy whose tires she slashed. All he did was cheat on her.”

“I really regret telling you about that,” Vernetta said. “She was young and crazy when that happened.”

“And now she’s older and crazier. You should tell that brother to pack up and get the hell outta Dodge.”

“She’ll be alright.”

“If I had to be on your bad side or Special’s, I’d choose you any day.”

“You act like she’s going to start stalking him or something.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Jefferson stood up and picked up the trash from the coffee table. He couldn’t stand untidiness. “What’s for dinner?”

“It depends. What are you cooking?”

He smiled down at her. “I want you to know that I resent that bait-’n-switch scam you pulled on me.”

Vernetta laughed. When they first started dating, she regularly treated him to home-cooked meals. Now that they were husband and wife, home cooking was reserved for special occasions.

“You women are experts when it comes to deception,” Jefferson said. “That’s how I know your girl’s got something off the hook in store for that dude Eugene.”

M
arvin Dobbs drummed his fingers on the table and wondered what was keeping Nathaniel. A loud group of unruly students cheered at the two flat screen TVs hanging over the bar at the Trojan Horse Grill across from the USC campus. Monday night basketball always brought in a nice crowd.

Just then Nathaniel “Breakaway” Allen entered the bar. A slight buzz whizzed about the room as eyes turned and fingers pointed. Nathaniel wasn’t even a Trojan yet, but people treated the young running back like he was a million-dollar player in the pros.

Nathaniel slapped his books on the table where Marvin was sitting. “Hey, dawg. What up?”

Before Marvin could answer, a busty blond pranced over and purred at him. “Hi, Nate. I hope you can make my party tonight.”

Who had time to party on a week night
? The lust glistening in the woman’s eyes disgusted Marvin. If Nathaniel had given her the go-ahead, she probably would’ve spread her legs and let him do her right there on the table.

If you only knew, Marvin thought.

Nathaniel promised to drop by, then pulled the girl into his lap and started feeding her lines Marvin hadn’t heard since junior high.

Marvin didn’t have time for this nonsense. For the past six months, he had been tutoring Nathaniel, a student at Fox Hills Junior College, so that he would have a head start on his course work when he transferred to USC in the fall. But Marvin had his own school work to get to if he planned to graduate in June. Of course, English and biology weren’t the only things on their agendas tonight.

Finally bored with the girl, Nathaniel booted her from his lap. “Let’s get over to the library, dawg.”

As they made their way to the door, Marvin’s eyes were drawn to a jock sitting at the bar.
Damn!
The guy had just
clocked
him. Marvin knew the man would keep his secret, just as Marvin would keep his. Still, he hated being exposed.

Marvin listened to Nathaniel rattle on about himself as they trudged across campus.

“A sports reporter from the
L.A. Times
is interviewing me next week,” he bragged. “They’ve got their eyes on me for the Heisman Trophy.”

Marvin nodded like he was impressed, but he really didn’t give a shit. He hated sports.

They climbed the steps of Doheny Library and took the elevator to the stacks on the fifth floor. They found a deserted area of the library near the back. Marvin plugged in his laptop while Nathaniel dumped his books on an adjoining desk and pulled out a notepad and pen. It wasn’t likely that they would be interrupted. Thanks to the Internet, few students took the trouble to traipse to the library. But if some librarian happened to interrupt, at least it would look like they were there to do work.

Marvin hit the switch which controlled the lights in the left quadrant of the floor and the area went pitch black. He made his way back to the desk, careful not to bump into the book cases. Without discussion, Nathaniel unzipped his fly and Marvin dropped to his knees.

When they were done, Nathaniel callously pushed Marvin away. More and more now, Nathaniel turned cold within seconds of coming. But Marvin didn’t care. He had something that Mr. Big Man On Campus couldn’t resist.

“We ain’t doing this no more!” Nathaniel growled as he hurriedly zipped up his pants. “And I don’t feel like studyin’ tonight.”

Marvin didn’t respond. They’d been hooking up for close to four months now. Every other week, Nathaniel proclaimed that it would be their last time. Then, a week later, he would call, begging to see him again.

“Whatever, man,” Marvin said.

“No, I’m serious this time. This is getting too risky. I got somebody else. An older dude. He has a place where we can kick it without getting caught.”

Fear rose in Marvin’s throat. Nathaniel had never mentioned having anybody else before. Flipping on the lights, Marvin watched as Nathaniel grabbed his books and stalked off.

Marvin hated to admit it, but he had fallen in love with Nathaniel. He knew he would always be the man on the side, but he didn’t care. He was exactly what Nathaniel needed, a partner who was masculine enough to never raise anyone’s suspicions about his sexual preference and discreet enough to keep his mouth shut.