Color of Justice (6 page)

Danny cruised down Six Mile on Detroit's west side. The sounds of Busta Rhymes pounded the inside of his car. He passed Greenfield and turned down his street, Forrer. Danny neared his house, a little place with a nice patch of lawn that he hated to mow every week. He paid a kid named Jyrell from around the way to do it for him. He did a lousy job, but it helped to keep the kid out of trouble.

The neighborhood was decent, though in recent years, the influence of crime was more and more obvious. Used to be at night, all you could see on Six Mile, the main road, was a few cars and buses on the street. The street itself had been lined with businesses, party stores, and restaurants. But eventually these nice little places were replaced by fast-food joints, gas stations, and empty storefronts.

In the city proper, a proliferation of fast-food places was the surest sign of despair. There were a
lot of single-parent houses and a working mother couldn't always come home and fix a meal for her kids. The people who make burgers, chicken, and tacos know this, so they set up shop, allowing these families to get a hot meal quickly and cheaply. A newspaper reporter called it “lifestyle need,” a nice term for a family who can't have a sit-down meal every day. It was really a tragedy, the stark evidence that the world did not always change for the better.

With the fast-food joints came shady brothers in big cars, kids without supervision, and young women with no particular place to go. Crime went up, and suddenly there were bars on windows in what was once a good place to live.

The local neighborhood organizations got together and put an end to most of the illegal activity. The cops came around a little more (thanks in part to Danny and a few well-placed calls) and soon the neighborhood got back to normal. But the fast food still got eaten and some of the night people were around. That always made Danny feel better. He didn't want to live in a place that was too clean.

Danny went inside his house and called out to his girlfriend, Vinny. Vinny was a dark beauty who was soft-spoken, strong, and fiercely independent.

Danny and Vinny had been partners for a whole year before they slept together. It was all he could do to keep from being all over her in that car. They'd shared the job and each other's lives, stealing looks, and disapproving of each other's
dates. They used the partnership to feel each other out and test the waters, a sort of professional foreplay. In the end, it was Vinny who had made the first move. They'd gone to her place after work, and after some very weak denials, they'd slept together, making love until the wee hours.

This frenzied lovemaking went on for about a week, every day. It was a while before they took their time and made love the right way. They'd both been thinking about it too much, wanted it too much. In truth, they'd both had a feeling that it would never last and just wanted to enjoy themselves.

But it did last. They partnered three years without incident, if you didn't count Vinny's constant nagging about his overzealousness with the criminal element. They didn't put their affair on display, so the department didn't say anything about it. People knew, but as long as they didn't screw up, it was cool.

The relationship was fine until Vinny caught one in an attempted robbery and decided to call it quits and go to law school. Danny didn't protest. He thought Vinny was more cop than lawyer, but he'd learned a long time ago not to tell her how to manage her future. Most women in general didn't like that, but it particularly troubled a black woman when some man tried to control her.

Danny learned that there was an animosity between men and women in the black community that is different from the one in mainstream Amer
ica. It's not so much a battle of the sexes as it is a war of souls. In a nutshell, black men dealt in a lot of bullshit, and the sisters were not having it. So when Vinny decided to make this major life change, he shut the hell up and let her do it.

But her decision had an effect on the relationship that he didn't see coming. The first year of law school is a trial by fire. The workload is heavy, and the professors challenge, intimidate, and belittle you in class.

Since she'd started, Vinny had been gone all day and studied all night. She was like a phantom roommate. When Danny's mother died, Vinny had been right there, like a rock, but when she was sure he was okay, she was off again. Danny didn't like it, but Vinny was going for a dream and he was not about to whine about not seeing her. They still loved each other, and for now, that was all he really needed.

“Vinny?” he called as he stepped into the living room.

“We're back here,” he heard her voice call from another room.

He started toward the den, wondering about the
we
Vinny referred to. They lived alone, so she had to have company. Vinny came from a big family, ten kids, so it could be any one of them. He hoped it wasn't Renitta, her big sister. Danny disliked her and knew the feeling was quite mutual.

Danny dropped his coat and moved closer to the den. He was hoping he could unload a little of his day on her, but Vinny didn't much like to
talk about police work anymore. So as much as he wanted to talk about the elusive killer, he decided not to say anything.

Danny entered the den to find Vinny at a table covered with books and papers. She looked up and smiled. He scanned past her to the black man who sat next to her, smiling like an old friend.

“Hey,” said Vinny. She came over and put a kiss on his cheek.

“Wha'sup?” asked Danny casually. He was still looking at the man, wondering how long it would be before Vinny told him who he was.

“This is Clarence Stanton, my study partner,” Vinny said finally.

Danny shook Clarence's hand. His grip was firm, hard even, as though he wanted Danny to know he was a real man. Danny squeezed back just as hard.

“Nice to meet you,” said Clarence.

Clarence was of medium build. He was a good-looking guy, one of those men who cared a little too much about just how handsome he was.

“We got anything to eat?” asked Danny.

“We got that chicken from yesterday,” said Vinny.

“Cool. I'm gonna have a beer. Anybody want one?”

“No, thanks. I don't drink,” said Clarence quickly.

“I'll take one,” said Vinny.

Danny got two beers and walked back to Vinny. Clarence was still sitting next to her, but he'd moved farther away.

Danny handed Vinny the beer and gave Clarence a quick smile. He went back into the kitchen and ate his chicken cold. If this was a typical night, Vinny would be up until midnight with her nose in some book, so he didn't count on any companionship.

Danny finished his meal and watched TV, trying to ignore the occasional laughter that came from the den. He didn't like Clarence and the implication of “study partner” was not good. But this was why he was seeing Gordon. The old Danny would have been in Clarence's face, giving him shit just for being close to his woman. But now he would wait it out.

He spent some time going over Fiona's preliminary report. Then he decided to go to bed. He said good night to Vinny and Clarence and hit the sack at ten-thirty. He and Erik had to run down a lead tomorrow, and the boss would want to know right away if they'd made any progress.

Danny tried to sleep but it didn't come for a long time. And when he finally drifted off it was restless, filled with images of the Bakers being murdered, the killer taping up their wounds as they bloated and bled to death in ungodly pain. Then he was awakened by a noise in the room.

“What time is it?” Danny said, searching for the clock.

“Sorry. It's one
A.M
.,” she said. “I didn't want to wake you.”

Vinny took off her top and wiggled out of her jeans. Danny took in her form and was aware that
they had not been intimate in a long while. School was putting a damper on that, too.

“You know what class is kicking my ass?” asked Vinny. “Criminal law. Can you imagine that? A cop who can't hang in that subject. All the shit us cops think we know about law, it's just that, shit.” She took off her bra.

Vinny slipped on a T-shirt and got into bed. He moved closer to her and slipped his hand under her shirt. In the age before law school, Vinny's hand would have been moving, too, but tonight nothing happened. He felt her hand move to his and gently tap it.

“I'm tired, Danny. I'm all stressed out.”

“You know what's good for that?” said Danny. “Sex.”

“Stop it.”

Danny persisted in the foreplay, partly because he was a man but mostly because their sex life had taken a backseat to her new life and that pissed him off. He kept it up until she pushed away from him.

“Come on, Danny. Life ain't about sex, you know.” Her words were a little sharp.

“Yes, it is,” said Danny, and he saw her face take on an “explain that shit” look. “People make love because it feels good, and because they care for each other. It's human, Vinny. It's easy to say a man just wants to get his rocks off, like it's some selfish shit, but you know it's more than that with me.”

Vinny shifted in the bed and for a second,
Danny thought she was going to get up and walk out, but she didn't.

“All you ever talk about is school,” Danny continued. He didn't see any reason not to go for the whole ball of wax now. “And I care because it's you.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “I caught a murder today, but all I can think about is us.”

Vinny was silent and he got ready for it. They'd never really argued about her school endeavors. They'd only had tense discussions, which usually ended with them apologizing and going to sleep. But he had thrown down a challenge just now, one she couldn't simply ignore.

“I'm glad to find out how important sex is to you.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I wouldn't want your heart to give out because you didn't get some tonight.”

“Truth is truth.” He smiled at her, knowing that she had already changed her mind. The only thing better than getting it was winning it, he thought.

“Who got killed?” she asked.

“Some rich people. They had big connections, so everybody's got their drawers in a bunch.”

“How did they die?”

“Shot with a small-caliber gun and the wounds were taped up so that they bled internally.”

“Damn,” said Vinny. “Any leads?”

“None, so far, but you know what I always say. Everybody dies for a reason. Now, we just have to find it.”

He felt her move closer and drape one of her legs over his hip. She kissed his shoulder, and de
spite the fact that he was still pissed off, he got excited. He thought for a second of not responding, but that thought didn't last long.

Danny rolled over and kissed her, letting his hand fall to her behind. Her hand slipped quickly down between his legs and she took in a deep breath.

They engaged in their familiar foreplay, and the routine made Danny feel better. He needed to be with her to remind him that he
was
with her. His mind filled with intense pleasure from this woman he adored, chasing out his newly discovered killer.

Grosse Pointe was one of those towns you grew up hating if you weren't lucky enough to live there. It was the historical home to many of the richest people in the metropolitan area and the country. They even had the nerve to separate it into little kingdoms: Grosse Pointe Farms, Grosse Pointe Woods, Grosse Pointe Shores. Some wondered why they just didn't call it Mount Olympus.

The Pointe was also just minutes outside of Detroit. A few miles in distance but a million in affluence, comfort, and power. Danny always felt one city mocked the other, like an old friend who has turned out more successful.

Danny and Erik zipped up Jefferson Avenue, watching the city fade from downtown's urban renewal, into urban decay, then burst back into the affluence of the suburb.

Danny was playing a tune by a rapper named Trick Daddy. Erik turned it off and replaced it with
the oldies station, which was belting out “Call Me” by Al Green.

“See,” said Erik. “Now, that's music.”

As they left Detroit, Danny felt the city slip out of him. It was like someone peeling off a layer of skin. A city is like an extra set of cells in your body: heavy, and laden with dark forces. Going into the suburbs made you feel lighter, more human as it were, and Danny didn't like that one bit. He was used to the heaviness of Detroit. It fit him like a suit of armor.

Soon, they were driving down a long, private road toward a large house that had a big circular driveway with several cars in it.

“Jesus, look at this place,” said Erik.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “I'm living the wrong life.”

“Looks like someone's throwing a party.”

“Then we're right on time.”

Danny felt himself tense as he thought about their upcoming interview. Danny always thought that anyone with too much money had to fuck somebody else out of it. That was the basic rule of American economics: the rich fed off the poor. This big house was built out of the lives of a million poor people who'd be shot on sight if they came here after dark. Or maybe he was just pissed because he dodged bullets for a living and couldn't afford the sports package on cable.

Danny and Erik went up to the house and rang the doorbell. An elderly Latino man in a nice suit came to the door soon after. He had that pseudo-
military gait that let you know he was a servant and proud of it.

“I'm Carlos,” he said. “You from the police?”

“Yes,” said Danny. “We need to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Long.”

“Follow me,” said Carlos. “I'll let them know you're here.”

Danny and Erik followed Carlos into the opulent mansion. Danny had a bad feeling inside. The smell of jasmine and floor cleaner filled his lungs. Clean, he thought. The place was clean, too clean. The only reason for this much clean is to hide the dirt, he mused.

They walked into a huge alcove with marble floors. The walls were covered with paintings, and there were sculptures and tapestries all around them.

Carlos led them into a living room area and Danny could hear voices from the party not far off. He readied himself.

Paul and Inez Long were the soul of affluence and they knew it. Mr. Long was tall, about six three, and Inez looked him right in the eyes in her heels. They were elegant and graceful and had that air about them that never let you forget they were loaded.

“Is this about the Bakers?” asked Paul. His voice was surprisingly high and feminine. For some reason, this made Erik smile a little.

“Yes,” Danny said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”

“Terrible thing,” said Inez. “They were good people.”

“Please, we're entertaining right now,” said Paul. “Let's go into another room.”

Danny was about to ask about their guests and why they needed to be away from them, when one of them walked in. Danny looked over and saw a black man of medium build wearing a nicely tailored suit. He looked familiar, but he could not place him directly.

“Anything wrong?” asked the man. His voice was smooth and rich with bass.

“Hamilton,” said Paul. “These men are here about the Bakers.”

At the mention of the name “Hamilton” Danny knew who he was looking at. Hamilton Grace, the president of the NOAA, a large group of black political organizations. Danny had seen him in the papers and on TV. Now he knew why Paul Long was so nervous. Hamilton Grace meant power. Not the kind of guest you wanted to know that the cops had come calling about a corpse.

“Hamilton Grace,” he introduced himself. “You're the police, I assume.”

“Yes, sir,” said Danny. “I'm Detective Cavanaugh and this is my partner, Erik Brown.”

“Detectives,” said Hamilton. “This is tragic. The Bakers were good friends of mine. If there's anything I can do, please let me know.”

“We will, sir,” said Erik.

Danny detected a respect in his partner that had not been present with the Longs.

Hamilton whispered something urgently to the Longs, then excused himself and walked off.

“Hamilton and his sons were visiting,” said Paul. “They live close by. We wanted his sons to meet our daughter, Amy, but she flew the coop. Can't blame her actually. Maybe parents shouldn't meddle.”

Hamilton came back to the foyer with two young black men. One was well groomed and dressed in an elegant suit. The other was scraggly-looking and dressed in hip-hop gear: baggy pants, big shirt, and boots. He also had a stud in the side of his nose.

“We'll come back soon,” said Hamilton. “Thank you for having us.”

“Thanks so much,” said the son in the suit, “and give my best to Amy.”

“Peace,” said the scraggly son, and he walked off. He was all attitude, Danny thought.

Paul followed Hamilton to the door, practically kissing his butt out of the house.

“Those are his sons?” asked Erik. “They don't look anything alike.”

“Jordan's adopted,” said Inez. “And he's an exemplary young man. Logan is another story.”

Danny understood that Logan, the natural son, was the hip-hop kid. The adopted kid was the one in the suit.

“I'd be exemplary, too,” said Paul, “if my father was loaded like Hamilton.” His tone was very gossipy.

“Any reason you know of that someone would
want the Bakers dead?” asked Danny, trying to get back to business.

“No,” said Paul quickly.

“We understand that you had recently had some bad business dealings with the Bakers,” said Erik.

“Surely, you don't mean to suggest that we had anything to do with this?” said Mrs. Long.

“We just need to know the nature of the business in question,” said Danny. He didn't want to digress.

“I don't like this inquiry, Detective,” said Paul. “I'll refer you to my lawyer.”

“You're not under arrest,” said Danny. “And you don't have to talk to us if you don't want to. But people will wonder why. I know I would.”

“We had a fight,” said Paul with a sigh. Mrs. Long was about to say something, but he cut her off with a look. “We met the Bakers at a society function. Inez and I are originally from Atlanta. We moved here because Detroit's coming back to life, and there are a lot of business opportunities. We hit it off with the Bakers and got into business together on an Internet deal.”

“What kind of Internet deal?” asked Erik.

“It was a company called New Nubia.com. It was a Web site that dealt in Afrocentric goods, art, books, everything. It went up a few years ago and posted strong sales. The Bakers got a lot of us in on the ground floor based on sales. We all bought equity in the company and were looking forward to an IPO next year. We were going to sell shares,
cash out, and get a thousand times our investment. It looked like we were going to make millions.”

“But it didn't turn out that way, did it?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Paul. “The company's IPO was less than stellar.”

“It was a disaster,” added Inez angrily. “We lost a fortune.”

“Inez,” said Paul in a cautioning tone.

“There's no sense in hiding it,” said Inez. “We got taken and they're going to find out sooner or later.”

Danny and Erik kept quiet, each knowing to let the argument proceed naturally so they could get more information. When the Longs calmed down, Danny broke in.

“How much did you lose?” he asked.

Paul looked embarrassed for a second. It was obvious that he had pushed for the deal. Paul had fear in his eyes. He unconsciously shifted on his feet, looking down for a moment. “A couple of hundred thousand or so,” he said.

“Four hundred thousand,” corrected Inez.

Danny and Erik hid their shock at the number. It was lot of money even for people like the Longs.

“Were you angry about losing that kind of money?” asked Danny.

“Sure,” said Paul. “Who wouldn't be? But when you check, you'll see that there are people who lost a lot more. Millions ran through that company.”

“So where did the cash go?” asked Erik.

“We don't know what they did with it, but it didn't go into the company,” said Inez.

“Mr. Baker have any bad habits?” asked Danny. “Gambling, drugs, anything?”

“No,” said Inez quickly.

Paul was quiet and looked away from the detectives for a second.

“Something you wanna say, Mr. Long?” asked Danny, noticing his demeanor.

“No,” said Paul.

Danny and Erik caught his evasiveness and wanted to push him, but if they gave him too much time to think about it, he'd dig in and find an avenue around the information he was so obviously hiding.

“We can ask you to join us downtown, if you like,” said Danny.

“I told you all I know,” said Paul.

“Okay,” said Danny. “We'll tell our boss what you've told us and he'll say ‘go back.' And we'll come back here again and again until everyone around you thinks there's some kinda bad shit going on. So, if you know anything, you'd better tell us, or the investigation will start to focus on you and that could get ugly.”

Paul looked even more upset now. Danny didn't know a lot about rich folks, but he was sure that no one liked his friends to think ill of them. And Paul seemed like the twitchy type, the kind of man who'd wear a gas mask on the toilet, so he'd never know that his shit did in fact stink.

Erik caught Danny's eye and gave him that look,
that partner look that said, “Good job.” Danny smiled a little. Erik's approval meant a lot to him.

Paul's face showed defeat, but he had a smile on his lips. It stayed there for only a second, then it vanished into a flat line.

“He had a thing on the side,” said Paul.

“Mr. Baker had a lover?” asked Danny.

“I wouldn't call it that,” said Paul. “She was a whore.” He said the word with more than a trace of disgust.

“Do you know her name?” Erik asked.

“Most certainly not,” said Mrs. Long.

“Xena,” said Paul without hesitation. This got him a look of shock, then pure evil from his wife.

“Like the TV show,” said Danny.

“TV show?” asked Paul.

“Never mind,” Danny said as Erik chuckled softly behind him. “Was she a call girl from a service?”

“No,” said Paul with a sly smile. “She was some girl he found on the street. Imagine that.” Paul straightened his back a bit, enjoying his gossip.

“And just how do you know John's whore?” asked Mrs. Long. She had turned her body toward Paul and raised her hands to her hips.

“Inez, it was male talk,” said Paul.

“John told you the name of his hooker girlfriend? Some street tramp? I don't think so.”

“He didn't tell me. Charles Eastergoode told me, and I don't know how he found out.”

“Judge Eastergoode?” asked Erik, recognizing the name.

Before Paul could answer, his wife was in his face. “And you never shared that with me? Why?” Inez raised an accusing finger in his direction.

“Yes, it was the judge,” said Paul, then he looked back at his wife.

The couple was headed for a nasty argument, and as much as Danny and Erik wanted to watch it, they had to get back to the job. They had business with the forensic lab.

“Thanks for the information,” said Danny. The Longs stopped arguing and looked at the detectives as if they had just walked up.

The couple turned back into congenial hosts and quickly had Carlos escort Danny and Erik out of paradise and to their car. They drove out of the private road, leaving the mansion behind.

“So, what do you think?” asked Erik.

“I think I need to play the lotto tonight,” said Danny. “This company, the New Nubia, had to have records. We get them, and I say we got us a list of suspects.”

“Yeah, if I lost that kinda cash, I might have killed their asses, too.”

“Or paid someone to do it,” Danny added.

“Right,” said Erik. “These kinda folks don't get their hands dirty.”

Danny glanced out at the Detroit River rushing by them as they headed back into the city. Soon the river would disappear and only the urban sprawl would be in their view.

“Man, a lot of times I wonder what it feels like to be rich,” said Erik. “You know, you see some
shit, you want it, you just buy it and not once even think of how much it cost. Me, I buy a Tic Tac, and I automatically deduct from my retirement.”

“It's probably not a lot different from being poor.”

“Bull—shit,” said Erik, taking a pause between the words. “You been watching too much TV where they want you to think rich folks are all sad and fucked up, crying and shit. ‘Poor me I got so much money and it's killin' me,'” he mimicked crying. “In real life, they're happy, drunk, fuckin', and laughing at your poor ass.”

Danny laughed at Erik's assessment. He had a way of reducing things to their common denominators that was amazingly fast and always right. In his head, Danny saw the Longs laughing, screwing, and drinking from large bottles of liquor.