Beneath The Surface (2 page)

For Detective Harmon, a decorated homicide detective, this was his first case since returning from suspension. He was under investigation for use of excessive force on a murder suspect. The charges were dropped, but not before Jack ran up a huge legal bill.

“Was she murdered?” Carmen asked.

“That hasn’t been established yet.” Cedric looked around and then leaned closer to Carmen. “But off the record, the strap from her purse was wrapped around her neck.”

“Thank you, Cedric. If you find out anything else, would you please let me know?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Cedric promised and watched Carmen walk back to her colleagues.

“What’s going on in there, Carmen?” Dan asked.

“Officer Cedric Carlson was nice enough to tell me that a woman’s body was found inside with the strap from her purse wrapped around her neck—off the record, of course.”

Max held out his hand and Dan pulled a ten out of his pocket. “Did he propose marriage?” Dan mumbled.

“What?” Carmen asked.

“Nothing,” Dan said and handed Max the ten. “I need to call this in,” he said and walked away dialing his cell phone.

Inside the gallery the detectives approached the crime scene. “What you got, Frank?” Detective Mitchell asked one of the uniforms.

“You’re gonna love this one, Diane,” he said and escorted the detective into the room. “Black female; found lying on that desk with her skirt gathered around waist, her blouse opened, and the strap from her purse was wrapped around her neck.”

Detective Harmon put on his gloves and leaned over the body. “Any ID on her?”

“I checked the purse,” the officer said and pointed to where the purse was found.

“And?” Detective Mitchell asked.

“No ID, but there’s a thousand in cash and a small quantity of what appears to be cocaine.”

“So much for robbery,” Detective Harmon said to his partner. Then he turned to the officer. “Who found the body?”

The officer checked his notes. “The body was found by the gallery director; name is Aneisha Perry. I got her in one of the other offices.”

“Go ahead and start talking to the rest of the guests; see if anybody saw anything. And I saw a news crew outside. Make sure you talk to them too,” Detective Harmon said.

“Yes sir.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll have caught the killer on tape,” Detective Mitchell said and laughed a little.

“Yeah, how often does that happen?”

“I’m thinking never,” Detective Mitchell said. She put on her gloves and took a closer look at the body. “Victim’s not wearing a bra or panties.”

“There’s bruising on her thighs, Diane,” Detective Harmon said and let his partner take a look, “which may indicate that she was raped.”

“Was she raped and strangled, or was this just rough sex that went way too far?” Detective Mitchell asked.
 

“My money’s on rape and murder.”

Meanwhile, back at the news van, Dan was rapping up his call to Louis Carr, the news managing editor. “Well?” Max asked.

“Louis says we’ll go live during the 11 o’clock news.”

“Yes,” Carmen said and high-fived Max.

“He said we should gather as much information as possible for the story, but to wait for the crime reporter, brief him, and he’ll do the story.”

“What? This should be my story, Dan. This is not right, Dan, and you know it.”

“I know. It should be your story; but Louis said he wants Steven to do the story.”

“I do all the work and then Steven waltz’s in and gets all the credit. This sucks,” Carmen said disappointedly. Carmen felt like this was her opportunity to do some serious reporting; especially since she was the only reporter on the scene.

When the crime reporter, Steven McCain called for some background on the murder, Carmen told him what she’d learned. Then he asked for directions to the gallery. Carmen smiled and gave him the wrong address.

Once the crime scene technicians arrived, the detectives left the building. “Here they come,” Carmen said and grabbed her mike, and Max raised the camera. “Detectives, detectives; can you tell me what happened inside?”

Detective Mitchell stopped in front of the camera while Jack kept walking. “An unidentified woman was found dead. That’s the only comment I can make right now.”

“Was she murdered?”

“No comment at this time,” Detective Mitchell said and walked away to join her partner.

Dan looked at his watch. If they were going to make their mark, the crime reporter would have to get there soon. “Where is he?”

“Maybe he got lost,” Carmen said and winked at Max.

“Sneaky bitch,” Max whispered.

“Your mama.”

“Yeah, she was. That’s why pop used to kick her ass,” Max mused, while Dan broke out his cell phone.

While he talked, Max got shots of the crime scene techs wheeling out the body. “Okay, Louis said you can do the story.”

“Yes,” Carmen said and once again high-fived Max.

“But you leave out the purse strap stuff.”

“Why?” both Carmen and Max said at the same time.

“Because
its
uncorroborated.”

“Come on, Dan. I could quote a police source.”

“Louis says no. We go with the detective’s statement and that’s all, Carmen,” Dan insisted.

“All right,” Carmen said sounding a little disappointed, but at the same time knowing that this could be her big break. After all the film was edited and the piece was ready, it was time to go live.

“Okay, Carmen, we go in three, two, one,” Dan counted.

“This is Carmen Taylor reporting live from the 18
^th
Street art gallery, where tonight the body of an unidentified woman was found dead. Foul play is suspected.”

Mike Black got undressed and then stepped into the shower. While he let the water beat down on his body, he thought about the last twenty-four hours and how his world had changed.

He had just come from burying another old friend: One of his top lieutenants, Kenny Lucas had been murdered along with two of his men, after leaving a nightclub.

He was now in business with Oleg Mushnikov, an ex-KGB operative with ties to the Izmaylovskaya mob, in exchange for leaving Jada West alone. “And that’s another thing. What do I do with Jada West?” Black said aloud as he showered.

Black got out of the shower and dried himself off. He went in the bedroom and looked at the clock. It was 5:40 and he had only twenty minutes to be ready when the limo came to pick him up for dinner. “I’m having dinner with Marcus Douglas tonight. Wanna join me?” Wanda had asked him earlier that day at Kenny’s funeral.

“Marcus Douglas,” Black said and thought for a second. “Ain’t he the guy you were gonna get to defend me for killin’ Cassandra?”

“That’s him. He’s moving to New York from Atlanta and opening a practice here.”

“What brought that on?”

“He said that he needed a change, but he didn’t really go into any details. I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

“I don’t think so, Wanda. You two have a good time.”

“That’s the thing. It won’t be just the two of us. He’s bringing somebody with him. Somebody you know.”

“Who’s that?”

“Carmen Taylor.”

“Carmen Taylor,” Black said, and a rush of memories that he hadn’t thought about in years raced through his mind. “What time?”

Wanda smiled a devilish smile. “I’ll send a car for you at six.”

Before that afternoon, he hadn’t thought about Carmen in years. Black had met her seventeen years ago on the train one day, when he and Freeze were going to kill a Rasta named Desmond Kelly, who had been sent by Vincent Martin to kill him.

Carmen was riding the train home with her friend Jackie, when she looked up and Black was standing over her. When he sat down next to her, Carmen could tell that he had a gun in his coat pocket because she could feel it bump against her leg every time the train stopped.

“So, Carmen, where are you goin’?” Black asked Carmen that day on the train.

“Jackson Ave.”

“I’m gettin’ off there too.”

“Do you live around there?”

“No. To be honest with you, I’m goin’ there to kill somebody.”

“Kill somebody! Why?”

“’Cause they tried to kill me. But I don’t want to talk about that. I’d much rather talk about you. Is that a Georgia accent I’m hearin’?”

“Yes, I’m from Atlanta.”

“Atlanta is a nice city. What brings you to New York?”

“I came here ’cause I needed a change; so I’ve been hangin’ out with my girl here. If I like it, I’ll stay, get back into school,
see
if I can pick up some work as a model.”

“You’re a model?”

“I’ve done some modeling in Atlanta. Some print, some commercials; shows—that type of stuff.”

“Freeze,” Black said glancing up at his companion, “never mind. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper, Carmen?”

“What do you want it for?”

“I want to give you the number of somebody who might be able to help you.”

“Okay,” Carmen said, digging in her purse.

Carmen handed him the pen and paper and he wrote a name and number on it. “Here,” he said handing the pen and paperback to Carmen, “this guy’s a modeling agent. Call him and tell him what you’ve done and what you’re interested in doing, and he’ll take care of you,” Black said as the train approached the station.

“Thank you. I’ll do that right away,” Carmen said as they got off the train and walked down the platform toward the steps.

When he got to the bottom of the steps, he turned to Carmen. “It was nice talking to you, Carmen.”

“Hey!” Carmen yelled as he started to walk away. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Mike Black. Just tell Calvin that I’d consider it a personal favor if he found you something.” That introduction was what started Carmen’s career on the road to becoming a super model.

At 6 o’clock sharp, the limo arrived at his house. Black walked out of his house and got in the limo. On the way to the restaurant, he thought more about his days with Carmen, all those years ago. At the time, Carmen Taylor was the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

He thought about Cassandra.

Although he hated to admit it, Carmen was prettier, but not by much. However, in addition to her beauty, Cassandra was smart as hell, and had a certain style about her that set her far above any other woman he had ever met. “I guess that’s why I married her,” Black said.

“What did you say?” the driver asked.

“Nothing,” Black said, and looked out the window.