What still itched at me was the police response to
Hollinsworth’s murder. I’d been around death before, had seen it up close. I’d seen death as personal as it got. And regardless of who was killed, whether it be the most respected cop or the lowliest drug dealer, there was always a police response.
But when Hollinsworth was killed, the response was a simple blue-and-white patrol car and a small forensics team.
It was more like a motel cleaning crew than a homicide investigation.
I’d asked the officer in charge, a round, pleasant man in his early forties named Hanrahan, if they were expecting more on the scene. He laughed, but not in a condescending way, a way that told me I shouldn’t expect more.
“The department is stretched thin as a dollar bill,” said
Hanrahan. “If we’re the only ones here it’s because there’s nobody else who responded.”
It felt like a cloud had descended over this city, something far more menacing than Jack or I knew. I thought about my brother, the now prophetic words he’d spoken just hours before he was gunned down in a dingy apartment building, alone and unloved.
This city’s gonna burn.
If this city was going to burn, I could already smell the smoke.
Jack sipped a cup of coffee. Black, he grimaced as he drank it. I had a soda in front of me. Caffeine would have been a mistake. I didn’t need it. The way I felt right now I wasn’t sure my blood pressure would ever return to normal.
“Somebody knew we were going to speak to Hollinsworth,” I said. “And they knew early enough to be able to send someone to kill him.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Jack said. “We didn’t decide to go up there until about an hour before we got there. Who knew?”
“The only person I told,” I said, an icy chill making its way down my spine when I said it, “was Curt Sheffield.”
Jack stared at me, the mug resting against his lip. He put it down, cupped it with his hands.
“Is there a chance…”
“Not in a million years,” I said. “I know Curt. And more than that, I know people. I know how they act. I’ve talked to Curt about this a dozen times since my brother was killed. I would have known if he was involved. I would have seen it in his eyes, I would have heard it in his voice. He couldn’t have known.”
“He couldn’t be involved,” Jack said, “or you don’t want him to be involved?”
“Both,” I said without hesitation.
“Until we know for sure,” Jack said, “you don’t say a word to Curt Sheffield or anyone else.”
“You either,” I said. Not that I needed to tell Jack. I trusted him, but I wanted to level the field, let him know that my contacts were trustworthy ones.
“Even Amanda,” Jack said. “You don’t know who has access to her, and information you give her.”
“Jack, come on…”
“It’s us or nothing now, Henry,” he said. “I don’t trust anyone in this city and I won’t until we know what the hell is going on.”
I heard my cell phone beep. I took it out, saw I had a text message. It was from Curt Sheffield.
Four people dead in midtown hi-rise. Looks like a triple murder-suicide. Bags of the Darkness found all over the place. One of the victims was Lil’ Leroy.
I snapped the phone shut. “This is not good,” I said.
“What happened?”
“According to Curt, they found four bodies, one of whom was LeRoy Culvert, also known as the rapper Lil’ Leroy.”
“Damn,” Jack said. “He’s famous enough that even
I’ve heard of him.”
“He was found with three other bodies, and they’re all dead, drawn and quartered. I mean the place looks like a bloody Rorschach test. And apparently the cops found drugs at the scene. Darkness.”
Jack lowered his head.
“There’s something else…” I said. “Somebody wrote
‘Fury’ on one of the walls. In blood.”
“Just like Butch Willingham. This is how the bloodshed begins. This is how it starts. Things will only get worse.”
“This will be all over the papers tomorrow,” I said.
“Front-page stuff, probably, and it will go national. The
Fury only killed dealers. And once people know what kind of drugs Culvert was killed over…”
“People all over the country will want it.”
“Guy had to be worth millions,” I said. “Always saw him drinking expensive champagne and hanging out on yachts. Guy like that only indulges in the good stuff.
Killing him creates instant demand. This is the best marketing money could buy.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Jack said. “Even crack…it took a while to seep in. This drug sounds like it’s already swimming in the city’s bloodstream, polluting it from the inside out.”
“And people are literally dying to get their own taste,” I said. Then I went into my wallet and pulled out a piece of paper.
Jack’s eyes widened. “You didn’t give that to the cops?” he said.
I opened the money order made out to Morgan Isaacs, looked at it.
“Like you said, I don’t trust anybody either now. This is our only lead. And even though I trust Curt, I don’t trust the whole department. We lose this, it might never be seen again.”
“Henry, this is dangerous,” Jack said. “You could get in trouble for that.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “This isn’t about a story anymore.
It’s about stopping whatever the hell is happening to this city.”
“Leonard Reeves,” Jack said. “Who the hell is he?”
“Let’s find out. His name is on this order. He has to live and work in the city. And I’ll bet he has some connection to 718 Enterprises. And maybe to my brother.”
“So, what, you think we can just dial four-one-one and the operator will connect us?” Jack said.
“No, but guy like this has to be connected. He has to have access to a large amount of money, or at least people who can get it. I want to use my LexisNexis account, see what we can find.”
“Great, let’s go to the office.”
“No way,” I said. “Like you said, trust no one. We’re doing this from my apartment.”
“Your apartment? Won’t your lady friend mind?”
“Her name is Amanda,” I said, slightly annoyed.
“You’ve met her. You know that.”
Jack nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You guys doing well?”
“Just fine,” I said.
“Glad to hear it.”
I laughed. “Come on, Jack. We both know it wasn’t too long ago you told me to dump her in so many words. And
I stupidly listened to you, and it almost ruined my life to do it. I trust your relationship advice as much as I trust your recommendations on aftershave.”
“You do what you want,” Jack said. “I’m in no position to judge anyone. I do seem to remember you standing over me in a puddle of my own puke.”
“Glad you remember that,” I said. “Not exactly either of our finer moments.”
“Not something I’ll want brought up in my eulogy.
Come on, let’s see what we can find out.”
“You’ll behave yourself?” I said.
“What do you think I am?” Jack said, finishing the last of his coffee and dropping a few singles on the table. He wiped at his shirt where a few drops of black liquid had stained it. “Uncouth?”
42
I turned the key in the lock. Amanda was staying at my place tonight. Odds were she was asleep and I didn’t want to wake her.
But when I turned the knob and opened the door,
Amanda was sitting on the couch, a beer in her hand, staring at the door like she’d been patiently waiting for a toaster to go off.
The room smelled like flowers, and I could tell she’d been burning one of her scented candles. A copy of a Nora
Roberts book lay dog-eared on the table, and a spoon covered in chocolate lay next to it.
She wasn’t one of those girls who did that kind of thing often. She didn’t eat ice cream when she was depressed, didn’t have a weakness for chick flicks or romance novels. At least not for the same reasons as most people.