I left the house thinkin’ that I had shut this down. I had killed Kevin, his boys, some chick named Kendra ’cause she couldn’t shot, and his grandmother. I really felt bad about killin’ her-but damn.
By the time I made it to my car, I was bleeding pretty badly. I needed a doctor and I wasn’t about to go back to the hospital. There was only one place I could go and I just hoped I remembered how to get there, and that I could trust them to keep their mouths shut. It was almost three in the morning when I rang the bell. When nobody answered, I rang it again. It took a while, but somebody finally came to the door. The porch light came on.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Rain Robinson. I need your help, Perry.”
The day before, Nick had taken me out there for his friend Perry and his wife Glenda, to change my dressing. He opened the door and took me into the examining room they had in their house. Perry was unbuttoning my blouse when Glenda walked in. “Am I interrupting?” Glenda said and smiled. “You were supposed to be in bed resting, young lady.” Glenda sat down on the examining table next to me.
“What have you been doing?” Perry said when he looked at my wound.
“I fell.”
“Right,” he said.
“I’ll take care of this, Perry. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Perry shook his head and left the room.
“He’s always a grumpy-ass when he first wakes up,” Glenda said and got what she needed to take care of me. When she was done, I apologized for getting them up and thanked her for taking care of me. “This time you need to get to bed and stay there.”
“I will, I promise. But I need a big favor.”
“I think I just did you a big favor,” Glenda said. I liked her.
“Yeah, I know, but you could, you know, like keep this between the three of us. I mean like not tell Nick that I showed up here bleedin’ at three in the morning.”
“You’re secret is safe with me. And I’ll make sure Perry doesn’t say anything either.”
“Thank you,” I said and she walked me out. I drove home and went straight to bed.
When I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, I called out for Nick, but he wasn’t there. With nothing else to do, I laid back down and turned on the TV. I channel surfed for a while and finally settled on the judge shows. My favorite was Divorce Court. I liked Lynn Toler, but thought that Madeline was better. Halfway through the show, Nick walked in. “How you feelin’?” he asked and sat down on the bed next to me.
“I’m a’ight,” I lied. I still felt kind of tired and my chest hurt.
“Good. Get dressed, we’re up,” Nick said and got up.
I reached for the gun I had under my pillow and got out of bed. “Where we goin’?”
“We’re goin’ to kill Ralph Watson.”
“That one of the niggas that robbed us?” I asked and got out of bed.
“Yeah. And hurry up before we miss him.”
Chapter Twelve
Kirk
I didn’t seem to be making any headway in this case. I really thought we were on to something when Sanchez and I rolled up on Leon Copeland at Nina Thomas’s apartment. But both of our sources have been telling us that Leon hasn’t been a player in this game in years. I really wasn’t all that surprised by that though. Leon and Mike Black were good friends those days, and he did seem to drop off the grid about the time that Black killed just about every other dealer in the area. Black made a deal with Chilly and setup what became know as the dead zone, where Black permitted nobody to sell drugs. Maybe Leon still respected the dead zone on the strength of his relationship with Black, so we had nothing. Then we caught a break.
I was at my desk, reviewing what little I had on the case, when an officer walked up. “Hey, Kirk, you know an asshole named Timothy Thompson?”
“I know a lot of assholes,” I said and keep reading my file.
“This one says he talked to you and Sanchez the other night.”
Now he had my attention. “What about him?”
“He got popped trying to sell to an undercover today. Instead of lawyerin’ up, he said he would only talk to you and Sanchez. You want to talk to him?”
“Shit, yeah.” I called Sanchez and told him to meet me down there.
When Sanchez got there, I filled him in and we went in. “I was startin’ to think y’all didn’t wanna talk to me,” Thompson said.
“What would make you think that?” Sanchez said and pulled up a chair next to him.
I grabbed a chair, pulled it up to his other side, and sat down. “We’re here; but now I wanna know what a small-timer like you could possibly wanna talk about?”
“I want outta here, that’s what I wanna talk about,” Thompson said.
“Tell me something I don’t know and I’ll consider it,” Sanchez said.
“The night Big K and them got shot, somebody got through our security.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a cop.”
“I’m listening,” Sanchez said.
“The reason we stayed outta y’alls way is that we had lookouts everywhere. If a cop car or anything that even looked like an unmarked car came our way, we’d shut down until they was gone. But this mutha fucka rolled up and walked up on us, made his buy quietly, and walked off. But instead of leaving, he steps to Kenyatta. They beefed for a while and then he leaves.”
“How you know he was a cop? And if he was a cop, how come none of you assholes are in jail?”
“After he left, I asked Kenyatta what was up with that. She said he was a cop tryin’ to shake her down.”
“You get a good look at the guy?” I asked. “This cop.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to incriminate myself, but I was as close to him as I am to you right now.”
“What was he driving?” Sanchez asked.
“Midnight blue Camaro.” I looked at Sanchez and I could tell he knew something by the look on his face.
“Can you pick him out if you saw him again?” Sanchez asked.
“I saw him today when they busted me. I started to talk to him, but I figured he didn’t have no juice.” Thompson looked at Sanchez then he looked at me. “So can we do somethin’ here or do I need to call my lawyer?”
“I’ll see what we can do,” Sanchez said and bounced up. He headed for the door.
“What’s that mean?” Thompson wanted to know.
“It means you sit here and you don’t talk to anybody,” I said and followed Sanchez out of the room.
I knew that Sanchez knew exactly who Thompson was talking about and was on his way to go after him. The fact that he was in on an uncover operation meant that it was one of Sanchez’s men.
I had to hurry to catch up with him. “Slow down, Gene, and talk to me,” I said and Sanchez kept walking. “You know who he’s talkin’ about?”
“It’s one of my men: Nelson Brown. Drives a blue Camaro.”
“So where you going?”
“I’m going to tear him a new asshole, that’s where I’m going, Kirk.”
“Slow down, Gene, and let’s talk about this,” I said and got in front of him.
“What?”
“All we got now is the word of a scumbag drug dealer tryin’ to make a deal to get out and sell some more drugs. Let’s check this out a little and if he comes up dirty, I’ll hold him while you tear him a new asshole.”
Sanchez finally exhaled. “Okay.”
Sanchez and I discretely dug into Brown’s life; his finances and the luds from his phone, just like we would any other criminal. The picture that was being painted by the information we found, made one thing crystal clear: Brown was dirty. But I wanted more before we confronted him, so I suggested that we follow him. We lost him in traffic the first day, but the second, Brown led us right to what I was looking for.