Color of Justice (24 page)

“You were there?” he asked, his eyes filled with terror.

“We sure were. It was hard to get all of it, so we had to use several operatives. The old man who sat by you was used to distract you, while the kid on the bike put our microphones in position.”

Danny saw Reese's eyebrows go up, remembering the people in the park. Realization washed across his face, then stark fear.

“The garbage men had video cameras on their truck,” said Danny. “And they left another listening device when they put the trash can down. It was hard, but worth it for what we got. What I don't know is why you did it.” Danny was going out on a limb, but he felt it was worth a shot.

Reese was floored. His knees wobbled, and he grabbed the mantel for support. He walked over to a black leather chair and sat down heavily. He buried his face in his hands, and started to cry, sobbing like this was his last hour on earth.

“I wasn't going to do it,” he said. “I was mad, but I wasn't going to kill Olittah.”

“You wanted to kill your wife,” Danny said
forcefully as if he had known this all the time. “And then she turns up dead. Do you see why we're so interested in you and your buddy? We're going to close this case, and I don't care which one of you goes down for it.”

“I didn't do it!” he yelled suddenly. “She was fucking Charles, and I didn't like it. I was angry. So I called this guy.”

“Look, man, if you tell me everything, maybe I can help you,” said Danny. “Otherwise, we can just go downtown right now.”

“No, no, no,” said Reese, still crying a little. “I want to tell you. I can't hold on to this anymore.” He took a breath, then looked at Danny with his red eyes. “I knew Olittah was having an affair. She told me it was Charles Eastergoode. She and I had been fighting a long time about my gambling at the new casinos. I'm in way over my head. Every night I'd be at MGM, Windsor, or the Motor City, losing money hand over fist. It reached the end when Olittah's car and mine got repossessed and we fell behind on the mortgage. She was going to leave me. I got desperate for money, you know, and I lost my head.”

“What did you do?!” Danny demanded. He was no longer acting, he could tell where it was going and he was angry about it. “You wanted to kill her for the insurance?”

“No,” said Reese. “Olittah didn't have any. She dropped her policy when my gambling got out of control. I wanted the money she and John Baker stole.”

“John Baker and Olittah stole money from the New Nubia investors.”

“Yes, a lot of money. Two million or so. I heard her talking with him about it. She did it with him, but then she didn't want any part of it. John Baker offered her a half million to keep her mouth shut. But she said no. So, I hired a guy, this guy I met at a casino, to do it for me. His name was Clint, although I think it was a phony name. Anyway, Clint was going to kidnap Olittah and get the information out of her, only he took the thousand I gave him and disappeared. Then Olittah turned up dead.”

“This Clint killed her?”

“No. Olittah came home the night he was supposed to grab her. Clint got picked up on an old arrest warrant and went to jail, so I know it wasn't him.”

“Who then?” asked Danny. “Who did it?”

“I don't know,” said Reese.

“Don't give me that bullshit,” said Danny. “You wanted your wife dead. I know you're tied into this thing.”

“No,” said Reese. “I swear. I didn't want to kill her. I just needed the money.”

“So, since you didn't get the money,” said Danny, “you were blackmailing Eastergoode, threatening to tell his wife about the affair.”

“Charles gave me a measly five thousand. Today, he cut me off, said it was over, that he was going to tell his wife everything.” Reese shook his head and looked down. He was pitiful in his addiction to gambling and too crazy from it to see
that he'd moved beyond rational thought. “I knew I picked the wrong person,” Reese said calmly. “Olittah was really a decent person when you got right down to it. I should have gone after the prostitute.”

“What prostitute?” Danny asked. And before Reese answered, Danny knew he had made a mistake long ago in this case.

“Some whore John was seeing. I remember Olittah yelling at him because John told this ho about what he was doing. And he was planning to skip town with her. I assumed John Baker told the prostitute where the money was.”

Danny's eyes grew wider. Bellva. She was the one all along, he thought. She'd played him and Erik good when they had her. She was the stupid drugged-out whore who knew nothing, a poor unfortunate girl in over her head. But she knew all along. She was waiting to get to that money. And now he had to get to her.

“The prostitute, do you remember her name?” Danny was making sure he was on the right track.

“It was Xena or something like that,” said Reese. “What a damned fool John Baker was.”

“Don't talk to anyone about this,” said Danny. “Someone from the police will contact you.”

“You mean I'm not under arrest?” asked Reese.

“Just keep your mouth shut,” said Danny. He ran out of Reese's house hoping that Bellva, who was certainly a lot smarter than she had let on, was not smart enough to have already gotten the money and skipped town.

 

Danny sat next to Desandias Locke in his hospital bed. He'd gone looking for information on Bellva. He'd checked the drug houses and her old haunts, but no one had seen her. Then Danny went to ask the man who knew everything and found the Locke's home had been turned into a crime scene.

The Locke had been shot up pretty good and left for dead, but he was still alive. He had sustained damage to his liver and spleen and had lost one of kidneys. Part of his spine had been shattered, and he had only partial movement on the right side of his body. If he lived, he'd most certainly need specialized medical attention forever.

Danny looked at the man with tubes running out of his body. One of the many monitors attached to him beeped softly. Danny managed some sympathy for the beaten man. He was a criminal but no one deserved this. It would have been better if he'd died.

“I need to talk to you,” said Danny. “Can you manage?”

The Locke drew in a breath then let it go. It was a strained, frightening thing to see. He nodded his head.

“I'm looking for Bellva,” said Danny. “I need to know where she is.”

The Locke looked over at Danny and shook his head.

“She's dead?” asked Danny.

The Locke hunched his shoulders to say he
didn't know. Then raised one hand and gestured to himself.

“The same people who did this got her?” asked Danny.

The Locke nodded.

“So, they got her, then they shot you up?”

The Locke shook his head then pointed to a pad and pen by his bed. Danny held the pad and gave the pen to the Locke, who scribbled as best he could:

bady brothers killers crazy mfs

“Bady brothers, killers, crazy muthafuckas,” Danny said out loud. He took this to mean that the Locke was racked up by the Bady brothers.

“Where can I find them?” asked Danny.

He gave Danny a pissed-off look, as if to say, if he knew that, he would not be where he was.

Danny said his good-byes to the Locke and was about to go when he made a loud grunt. For a second, Danny thought he was having a seizure or something. But when he turned to him, he was pointing to the pad and Danny held it out for him. The Locke wrote something on it:

kill them

Danny drove back to his home, thinking that he should call his old boss and tell him what he knew. It would be the smart and sensible thing to do. But he also knew that by the time the cops got out a
task force to look for the Bady brothers, they'd get wind of it on the street, kill the girl, and skip town. He couldn't risk that, and he didn't have much time to get to them. Men like the Badys, men who would challenge a man like Locke, were not to be trifled with.

Danny stopped at his house and took out his other gun, the S&W .45 ACP. He stared at the gleam of the steel body against the darkness of the black handgrip. Contrast, he thought. All of a sudden it was everywhere in life.

He put on the second gun, trying not to think of what Gordon had said about them. He also remembered what the department said about carrying both weapons, the danger involved. But everything about what he was going to do was dangerous.

An unofficial investigation could lead to casualties and because of that, he didn't have a lot of time. If Bellva was still alive she wouldn't be for long. So he had to get on the street and get answers to a lot of questions about her abductors. The only thing he did know was that he didn't want to do this alone.

The big house on John R Street stretched up into the sky. It was one of those pre–World War II places, three stories high. Even in its current state of dilapidation, it towered above the other homes around it, like an ancient titan weary from battle.

Danny didn't know much about architecture, but he'd seen this kind of house, with its stone columns and pointy corners, before. They'd called them spooky houses when he was a kid. As Danny got out of the car, he could see that this house had kept the reputation.

Danny left his car a block from the place. He'd gone to several sources and found that the Bady brothers were all the Locke had said and more. They'd come from the South and had left a path of murder and destruction in their wake. Danny was concerned about this fact. The only thing more dangerous than a man willing to kill was one who was not afraid to die.

“That's a big house,” said Marshall as he got out and stepped next to Danny.

Danny had called on his best friend to assist him in this endeavor. He had almost called it off when he saw Marshall's kids playing in the living room, then witnessed him take the child lock off the gun in his office. Marshall was a capable man and certainly he didn't trust anyone on earth more, but he was now a father and the thought of him dying was more terrible than what was in the big house down the street.

Danny hadn't told Marshall what he'd learned about his mother's death. Lucy Cavanaugh's letter blamed Danny for her depression and death and he didn't want those who cared about him to look at him differently. Even between friends, there had to be secrets.

“My people say one of them always watches for intruders. They sleep in shifts and they are all deadly.”

“Then there's no room for mistakes,” said Marshall.

Danny wanted to ask him if he was sure about this but Marshall would take that as an insult. Marshall was tough, and together with Danny had taken down a man who was a professional killer. Danny was feeling as if he'd lost so much lately. If he lost his friend he'd never forgive himself.

“You go in behind me and remember they'll be ready for us.” Danny went into his trunk and pulled out a wooden box. He handled it carefully.

“Thank God you defend lowlifes,” said Danny.
“I don't know where else I coulda got something like this.”

“Believe me, he wanted to do it,” said Marshall. “I walked him on arson for hire and that ain't easy.”

Danny reached inside the box and flipped a switch, then he and Marshall took off running toward the Bady brothers' house.

 

Muhammad hit his father again. Bolt's head snapped back from the impact. He was on his knees kneeling before the brothers. Bolt's hands were tied in front of him and his feet were similarly bound. Muhammad had been beating him for a half hour. Letting each blow sink in before inflicting the next.

Rimba watched, listening to a rap tune and holding a machete he'd been sharpening. Akema stood next to a window with Bellva tied up on her side. Rimba had ripped her blouse and fondled her breasts until Muhammad stopped him. There would plenty of time for that he'd told Rimba. Their priority was dealing with Bolt, making sure their goal was achieved.

Akema Bady was angry. She'd wanted to kill the woman they'd found at the home of their enemy. They'd gotten their father, so they didn't need that woman. She knew her brothers occasionally liked to have sex with women. She refrained from the act herself, so she couldn't understand why they couldn't, too.

Whenever her brothers had some woman around, they never paid attention to her. She was
supposed to be first in their lives, not second to some sick, loathsome act. They were going to kill their father then have sex with the filthy woman. She only looked forward to the first thing on that list.

“Why…why are you doing this?” asked Bolt through his swollen lips.

“Don't you recognize us?” demanded Muhammad. “Look at us!” he yelled. “Can't you see the faces you spit on so long ago?”

Muhammad had already seen the recognition in his father's eyes. Bolt was trying to save his life by denying who he was. And it was a game that was going to be played out to the end.

“I'm a reverend,” said Bolt. “Don't you kids have any respect for the Lord?”

“Fuck the Lord!” yelled Muhammad as he kicked Bolt in the ribs.

Bolt coughed up blood as he lurched over. Rimba put the machete under Bolt's chin and forced his head back up.

“We can be here all night,” said Muhammad. “You say you believe in God. This is what I believe in.” Muhammad pulled out a gun. “This is our god. This is what you left us when you killed our mother and left us to rot in foster homes and jail. Black men run out on their kids all the time and never think about what happens after they leave. We are what you planted, Daddy. This is the tree of your sin. So if you believe in God then you gotta know he brought you here to pay for what you did. But don't you lie to us anymore.”

Bolt hung his head and cried. Blood dripped
from his mouth and nose. His big frame shook as he heaved in his pain and grief. On the other side of the room Bellva cried also and was hit by Akema and told to shut up.

“I am your father,” said Bolt. “But I'm not that man who left you. I'm a better man. I've dedicated myself to—”

Bolt was cut off by a kick to his face. Muhammad smashed his foot into his jaw and Bolt fell over on his side.

“I don't want to hear your confession,” said Muhammad. “I just wanted to know that the man we killed was the right one. Yes, you gonna, Daddy. We are going to make your death as painful as you made our lives. All we've had is time to think about how to do it, and now it's time to put that knowledge to use.” Turning to Rimba, he said, “Tie off his arm.”

Rimba took a rag and tied it tightly around Bolt's left arm. He pulled it until he saw Bolt's palm go white.

Then Muhammad got on his knees next to his father. He put his mouth next to his ear and whispered to him the horror of what had happened to his children in the foster care and penal systems.

Boltman started to cry again as he heard stories of Akema's sexual abuse for over a year, Rimba's beating and torture at the hands of a sadistic couple, and Muhammad's own beating by white supremacists in prison. With each terrible tale, Bolt grew weaker and weaker, and Muhammad could feel him accepting his fate.

“Each day,” said Muhammad, “we're going to take part of you off, until there's nothing left. We will take you apart until you die, then we will keep cutting you until there is nothing left but your evil-ass heart.”

Bolt started to say the Lord's Prayer, closing his eyes to shut out his tormentors. For a second, Muhammad believed that his father was a changed man. The sincerity of the prayer was sweet and genuine, the words of a man with God in his heart. But whatever mercy Muhammad might have once had inside him was gone. He felt only the need to rid the world of this poisonous man and the pain he felt in his own heart.

Muhammad nodded to Rimba, who took Bolt's arm with the tourniquet on it. Akema stopped her watch to see the spectacle. Rimba raised the big knife, his arm shaking with anger. Then he brought the blade down, cutting off his father's hand.

Bolt's scream was unearthly as the limb was lopped off. The brothers watched as Bolt writhed on the floor. Muhammad hugged Rimba, telling him that his blow was good.

“Men coming!” said Akema, looking out of the window. She saw Danny and Marshall running toward their home.

Without a word, the brothers armed themselves. Muhammad looked at his father on the floor. The blood had stopped flowing from his arm and he'd passed out from the pain.

Akema tied Bellva to a doorknob on a closet. She slapped her viciously across the face and was
about to hit Bellva again when Muhammad grabbed his sister and pulled her out of the room.

Danny slid the small wooden box onto the front porch of the house. Then he and Marshall continued moving to the back of the home. The place was falling apart and someone had torn off the city sign condemning it. All that was left were the letters
DEMNED
. Danny thought of the word
damned
as he passed by.

Danny and Marshall arrived at the back door and found a panel of plywood that had been pulled back. They got on either side of the door and Danny ripped off the flimsy piece of wood. Then he pulled out his other gun and waited.

Suddenly, there was an explosion at the front of the place. Danny waited a few seconds then moved into the doorway, raising both weapons.

Danny entered a small pantry. When he got inside, he saw Akema Bady running out of the room to see what had blown up the front door.

Danny sensed someone to his right and swung the .45 out and fired. Danny felt Marshall move to his left behind him.

Danny's first shot with the .45 missed Muhammad Bady, but forced him to move away into the kitchen. Danny fired the Glock and hit Muhammad in the arm.

Rimba tossed the machete at Marshall at the same time Marshall squeezed off a shot at him. Marshall leaned to one side as the blade flew by his head. His shot hit Rimba in the gut and Rimba fell to one knee.

Muhammad's gun fired, and Danny heard the bullet go by his ear. Danny fired the .45 again and hit Muhammad in the chest, sending the man flying into the air. Muhammad's gun flew out of his hand, but Danny couldn't see where it went.

Danny jerked his head over to check on Marshall. He saw him moving in on Rimba, who was still on his knees.

“Don't get close to him,” said Danny.

Marshall took a step back as Rimba pulled out another knife. He looked up at Marshall, then plunged his own knife into his heart, killing himself.

Danny ran by Rimba's dead body into the other room. He entered and was backed out by a volley of gunfire. He had seen brief muzzle flashes from a corner.

Danny took only a second, knowing that if he waited a standoff would ensue. He ran back into the room and pumped several shots from both weapons toward the place where he had seen the muzzle flashes. The sound was deafening and he moved forward trying to see if the last Bady brother had been hit.

He found Akema in the corner, hit twice and not moving. He felt for a pulse. There was none. She was gone.

Danny heard a muffled cry. He turned and saw Bellva tied to a door across the room. She was half naked and crying.

Danny moved toward her when he heard a noise from behind him. He turned to see Muhammad
crawling next to another man on the floor. Muhammad's face had an expression of pain and determination. He crawled to the man on the floor, raised his bloodstained hands, and started to choke him. Wounded, Muhammad was very weak but he used every ounce of his strength to choke the fallen man.

Danny yelled for Muhammad to stop, but he could see that he was not going to. Danny ran over and pulled Muhammad off the other man. Muhammad grunted loudly then rolled over on his face and collapsed. He took in a couple of sharp breaths—then nothing.

Danny checked on Muhammad. He was dead. Danny looked at the fallen man and saw that it was Reverend Bolt. He was lying in a pool of blood. On Bolt's arm was a dirty rag, which was tied off just above the elbow. Then Danny saw why. Bolt's left hand had been cut off. Danny checked Bolt for signs of life. He felt a weak pulse.

“This one's still with us, Marshall,” said Danny.

Marshall walked over and saw the man Danny referred to.

“Well, I'll be damned,” said Marshall.

“We need to call an ambulance, right now.”

“I'm on it,” said Marshall.

Danny moved back over to Bellva as Marshall whipped out a cell phone. Bellva was tired, beaten, and scared, but she was in good shape compared to everyone else in the house. Danny quickly untied her.

“Good to see you again,” said Danny to Bellva. She smiled a little sick smile and wiped her eyes.

Danny helped her to her feet. Bellva stood on shaky kegs and tried to cover herself up.

“Can you make it?” asked Danny.

“Yes,” said Bellva. “Yes, I can.”