Wrong Chance (25 page)

“Talk.” Scenario leaned back in her leather chair and started clicking her pen.

“Two years and no probation is fair.”

“You're out of your mind. Eight years for the robbery and carjacking with a three-year gun spec, plus restitution. And that's me being nice, which only happens once a year. Take advantage of it.”

Tension swelled in Vivian's voice. “But he's Marcus'—God bless the dead—nephew, and he cooperated.”

“Which makes him and what he did even more despicable. Twelve years for all three counts of the indictment. The gun spec, restitution, and five thousand hours community service to an outreach program for troubled youth.” She watched Jamillah being nosey.

“Okay, okay, okay, Ms. Davenport, I'll run the eight years with a spec by him and his mother. I can tell you right now that Miranda Brooks won't be pleased. With her political power, she's the wrong person to piss off. She expects a favor from your office.”

“Don't do favors. It's that or suit up for trial so I can use
my
political power and throw the whole justice system at him.” Scenario hung up, knowing that Marcus was smiling up from the grave.

The phone rang back.

“Let me,” Jamillah said.

Scenario pushed the phone to the edge of her desk. “Be my guest.”

“County Attorney's office. Jamillah Woodard speaking, how can I be of help to you?” Jamillah covered the phone and said, “It's somebody named Jazz.”

“I'll take that in private. Thank you.”

Jamillah passed Scenario the phone and left.

“Hey,” Scenario said into the phone.

“He knows.”

“Who knows what?”

“Leon.” Then: “He knows it's you.”

Sweat prickled her forehead. “Impossible. No one but you and GP—”

Leon lumbered through the door looking like a bum straight off the streets of downtown Cleveland. “Bet I'm the last person you wanted to see.”

T
he confrontation happened outside of Cuyahoga County Justice Center on West Third Street. They argued in front of Quiznos sub shop where the courthouse and Justice Center staff gathered for lunch. And it seemed as if all of Scenario's colleagues were in Quiznos today staring at her through the restaurant's window. Judge Ronald Adrine and his frisky young secretary, who was rumored to sleep around for promotions and status positioning, sat inside at a window table facing Scenario and Leon on the sidewalk. The judge watched the commotion from his seat with sheer amusement, or maybe it was the foot Ms. Frisky was working between his legs. Scenario didn't know which one had the silly smirk on his face, but she saw it when she glanced into the window.

“I'm talking to you.” Leon grabbed her arm.

She snatched away. “Don't you ever, ever touch me again. I'm not Jazz, you bastard.”

“No, you're not. But I bet everyone in the county attorney's office would like to know they have an imposter amongst their ranks.” His eyes found the judge's, then Leon started for the restaurant door. “How about I start spreading the news in here?”

Now Scenario grabbed him. “Fuck you, Leon. Fuck you, you hear me?”

He faced her. With pure contempt, he looked at her hand on his
jacket. “You're obstructing a police investigation by not revealing that you personally know both victims. And you can't do that without you revealing who you are. Detective Hakeem—”

“Ma'am, is this guy giving you a hard time?” an obese man, wearing a Pepsi uniform with the name “Stan” stitched on his shirt, said. He stepped in their personal space.

“Push on,” Leon said. “The lady's fine. Now kick rocks or I'll kick a hundred pounds off your fat ass.”

“I'm fine, really,” Scenario said. “Thanks for asking.” She feigned a smile.

“You sure?”

“Dammit, she's sure.”

Stan threw up his hands. “Okay already.” He climbed into a Pepsi van and never considered them again.

Scenario's eyes turned to slits. “What do you want from me?”

“How 'bout we go for a little ride and talk about the details.”

S
cenario was beyond irritated. Leon was a threat to everything she'd worked for. She wished someone would carve hieroglyphics on him or that she could drop him off the face of the earth and get away with it. “Which way?” she said, pulling her convertible Lexus out of the Justice Center's parking lot.

“Go to twenty-eighth and Cedar. You need to run in the liquor store and buy me a bottle of Bacardi. I'll pay you back after you get me a job.”

“Job? What are you talking about?”

“You manipulated your way into the county attorney's office, so you're gonna do the same thing for me and get me a gig with the Cleveland Police Department, some type of law enforcement.”

“I can't do that.”

“You can and you will; it's the only way I'll keep quiet. You bitch, you started over and you're gonna give me a new start too.”

Scenario took a deep breath. “Leon, it's not that simple; it takes almost a hundred grand to get a professional, untraceable identity change. And you still look like Leon.”

“You're gonna pay for everything.”

“Leon—”

“Bacardi first; details afterward.”

Scenario decided at that moment that she hated Leon and she
was going to do whatever necessary to get rid of him. “You're pathetic.”

“So are you, Cashmaire. So are you. We have something else in common other than us being men.”

“You asshole, I am not a man. I'm a woman with an androgen disorder.”

He shrugged. “Tomato, to-
mah-
to, it's all the same thing.”

Scenario weaved the Lexus through traffic while plotting Leon's final downfall. She almost had it worked out in her head until Leon interrupted her and pointed and said, “Pull over right here.”

She turned into a lot situated on the side of the State Liquor Store.

“Go in there and get me a bottle. And, Cash…”

“What, Leon?”

“Hurry back so we can have our business meeting.”

“Don't get comfortable thinking you're pulling the strings.”

“Shut up, bitch. That's your problem—no one has ever smacked you in your mouth.”

“Fuck you, Leon.” She slammed the car door behind her.

Bruno Mars' “Grenade” came on the radio. Leon leaned forward to hike the volume. When he sat back, he looked into the business end of a pistol.

•  •  •

Stan eased the Pepsi van into the lot as Scenario Davenport stomped her way inside the liquor store. His heart thumped his chest as he threw the van in Park, blocking the Lexus in. Stan hopped out with more grace and agility than an obese person possessed. Leon was fiddling with the radio when Stan tapped the passenger's window with the snout of a Glock 9.

Leon, true to form, froze.

“Dude, trust me, this is not a game. Get out of the fucking car, shitface.”

Leon eased out and Stan tossed him a pair of cuffs.

“You know what to do with them. And don't bruise the skin or I'll hurt you really bad.” Stan nodded to the opened sliding door of the Pepsi van after Leon cuffed himself. “Be quick about it, dude.”

Leon stepped onto the running board and was knocked out cold.

“G
irl,” Scenario said into the phone, “I don't know what to make of it. I came out the store and he was gone. It was like God answered my prayers. Leon just vanished into thin air.”

“We need to talk about Yancee and Anderson,” Jazz said.

Scenario cringed. “Thought we settled that already.”

“I'm not comfortable with it, Cash, or should I continue to play this charade and call you Scenario? I think it's time I go to the police.”

“And hang me out to dry?”

“It's not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Tell me that, Jazz. I've never seen you and Leon bat for the same team before.”

“You're just refusing to look at what's in front of your face.”

“It's nothing more than a coincidence that Yancee and Anderson were murdered.”

“Is it, Cash?”

Jamillah walked in the office. “Vending machine guy is here.”

Scenario covered the phone. “I'll be there in a sec.” To Jazz she said, “Don't make any move to do anything until I come over there.”

“When are you coming, because something has to be said just in case this isn't a fluke.”

“I'll be there no later than Friday.”

“By Friday, Cash. I'm not playing.”

“I'll be there. Just promise me you won't be Judas Iscariot until we have a face-to-face.”

“I'm not a snitch.”

“Then we'll talk later,” Scenario said. “I have some business to take care of here at the office before I leave.”

“Later.” Jazz hung up.

Scenario went to the outer office. The vending machine guy was positioning a Pepsi machine against the wall. She said, “Stan, right?” remembering the name on his shirt. Good gosh, she thought, he's as wide as the Pepsi machine.

Stan turned around. “Hey, you're the lady from earlier.”

“Yeah.” She offered him a hand. “Thanks again for coming to my rescue. A regular knight in shining armor you are.”

“No problem.” He blushed. “Sorry I delivered this thing so late. My other runs took longer than expected.” He glanced at his watch. “It's my quitting time and they want people like me out the building by five, so I'll get it up and running properly for you tomorrow.”

Jamillah powered her computer off and rose from her desk. “I'm out of here too. See you in the morning, Ms. Davenport.”

“Have a good evening,” Scenario said, waving.

Jamillah headed for the door. “You too, and don't work too late. We always have tomorrow.”

“Girl, I'm five minutes behind you.”

Stan said, “I'm just gonna leave the dolly attached to this thing until morning.”

“That's fine.” Then something dawned on Scenario as she stared at Stan. “I wasn't aware that we were getting a pop machine.”

“Hey, I just punch a clock and do what I'm told to keep the checks rolling in.” Then: “Tell you what, Pepsi's on me tomorrow.”

Scenario cracked a smile. “It's a date.”

“Glad to see you smiling, Ms. Davenport.”

“How'd you know my name?”

“The secretary just said it on her way out the door.” He glanced at the door. “And it's stenciled on your door.”

“Oh, forgive me. I've been misfiring here lately.”

“Don't worry about it; it's no problem. Well, Ms. Davenport, I better get going. Rush-hour traffic can be nasty.”

C
ourthouse workers poured out the Justice Center, eager to bring their work day to a close. Stan eyed the day shift janitor he had pickpocketed a week earlier leaving the building as he ducked into a blind spot the security cameras couldn't see. During his reconnaissance of the Justice Center, he learned that the cameras switched positions every three minutes. So he knew for three solid minutes, twenty times an hour, there wouldn't be surveillance on the hallway outside of Scenario's office. His watch was set to know when it was and when it wasn't. When the camera rotated left to spy on an adjacent hall, Stan slid into a women's bathroom seventy feet down the hall from the county attorney's office. He hung an
Out of Order
sign on the door and locked it from the inside with a set of keys he'd stolen from the janitor during the reconnaissance mission.

Stan got right down to business in front of the mirror. He removed two tiny putty bags from his jowls, knocking the appearance of eight pounds off his face. That was a relief he appreciated. Those things ached the hell out of his jaws. Next went the wig. Then he proceeded to peel the synthetic unibrow and broad nose from his face, which was work. He made a note to himself not to use so much skin glue next time. He hummed a soothing melody as he scrubbed the makeup off. Slowly but surely, fat-ass Stan turned back into the cunning Chance Fox.

He removed the black contact lenses and replaced them with golden ones. He shed the Pepsi uniform to reveal an inflatable bodysuit that had a zipper down the front. After neatly folding the uniform, Chance pulled the plastic cork on the bodysuit's appendix and lost weight by the seconds. Chance laughed as air escaped the suit. If weight loss could be so easy, the world would be free of human lard. The thought really tickled Chance.

He stepped out the bodysuit, folding it as precisely as he had the uniform, and then removed a Chanel tote bag he had taped to his torso. Inside the bag was his murder kit and the next disguise he wanted to show off in for the security cameras.

“H
ope she keeps her clothes on this time.” Hakeem shook his head as he and Aspen approached the Taylor residence. “Can't sit through a senior citizen strip show again. That was not cool.”

Aspen thumped her cigarette butt and rang the bell. “Think old people still screw?”

“With Viagra for men and women, I'm certain.”

Aspen thought about that and frowned. “I just imagined my parents getting busy and it was not pretty.”

“When I get old-old, I'm still gonna want some. Viagra is a godsend.”

“Psst,” Aspen said under her breath and rolled her eyes. “You don't want no ass now.” She rang the bell again.

“Huh?”

“If you
huh
you can hear.”

The door opened.

“Aw,” Aspen said, “he is so adorable, Hakeem, look at him. What's your name, honey?”

The little boy winked at her. “Rasheed.”

Aspen's heart melted with the sound of his voice. “Rasheed, is your mother home?”