No More Tears in the End (5 page)

“Did she say what she was nervous about?”

“No, and when I asked her about it she just said it was nothing and changed the subject.”

“What else did the police tell you?”

“They said it was drug related, but that’s a lie. They said that the boy she was with was a drug dealer. They said those kind of people don’t need a reason to kill; probably killed my baby for kicks or for some type of initiation.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“No. Zakiya would never be involved with drugs or drug dealers. I told you, she had her life planned out. Knew where she was going and was on the road to getting there.”

For the next hour, Mrs. Phillips and I sipped brandy and talked about Zakiya. Naturally, she mostly talked and I mostly listened. Mrs. Phillips raised her after shooting heroin consumed her mother’s life. Zakiya never knew her father.

Mrs. Phillips told me how Zakiya went out of her way to avoid drugs and not get in with
the wrong crowd,
so she could get an education. She was determined to be somebody, because she refused to turn out like her mother, a teenaged mother strung-out on drugs. Zakiya had a bachelor’s in sociology with a minor in psychology. She was about to attend law school in the fall. “Does that sound like the type of woman who was involved in drugs?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“You damned right it doesn’t.”

The longer I sat there, the more Mrs. Phillips reminded me of my grandmother. She raised me after my parents disappeared. One day when I was eleven they just didn’t come home. No one really knew what happened to them. My younger brother and sister went to live with my aunt and uncle in Mississippi.

They didn’t want me.

My uncle said they were just babies and they would raise them in the church. He said that I was into too much trouble and he was right. Those days I was into everything. After that, it was decided that I would go live with my grandmother, and I didn’t see my brother and sister again. After awhile, it didn’t matter as much. My grandmother was good to me. She showed me much love. She died five years later. But I had a new family by then.

About a year ago I went to Mississippi and tracked them down. My brother is a deacon in the church and my sister is married to the minister. I saw them, talked to them, but I didn’t tell them who I was. They had no idea that they even had an older brother. They were two- and three- years old when I last saw them. I guess my uncle never even told them about me. Look how I turned out as opposed to them. Their brother: the gangster, the killer.

“You tell Mr. Black that I appreciate him sending you over to give me that money. I can’t remember the last time I entertained a handsome young gentleman.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be one.” Mrs. Phillips smiled. “I’m not accustomed to taking money from people.”

I stood up and put the envelope down next to Zakiya’s picture. “I understand that, but please take it to cover funeral expenses and that type of thing.”

“You tell Mr. Black if he really wants to do something for me, he will catch the people who took my baby from me. You promise me that, Mr. Simmons.”

“Please, call me Nick.”

“Promise me that you will find out who did this and see that they get what's coming to them.”

“I can’t promise you that, but I promise to do what I can.”

“That’s all I can ask for, Nick.” Mrs. Phillips laughed. “It’s more than the police offered me. To them it was case closed.”

“Do you have a picture of Zakiya that I could borrow?”

She gave me a picture and told me where Zakiya lived. I left that apartment thinking that I probably wouldn’t be able to find the bandits, but I would do what I could. One more thing to get me out of the house, and my mind off Freeze.

Chapter 7

I was up five o'clock that next morning, ready to go and out the house before Wanda opened her eyes. I wanted to be at the police station before the first shift came in. I needed to talk to Tamia Adams. She’s a New York City police sergeant who used to provide information for Freeze. I wanted to see if she had heard anything about the robbery. I had to catch her there because she’d moved and I had no other way to contact her.

Tamia took Freeze’s death very badly, much worse than his so-called woman, Tanya. So bad, that she cried through the whole funeral. After that, Tamia had to take some time off from work ’cause she was cryin’ all the time. That’s why she moved out of her apartment; said there were too many memories of Freeze there. Since then, any time she has something for us she’s been talkin’ to Black directly.

“Sergeant Adams,” I said when I saw her walking toward the building. I guess I startled her ’cause her head snapped around. She relaxed a little when she saw it was me. Tamia gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“How you doin’, Nick?”

“I’m good. The question is: how are you?”

“It gets a little better everyday.”

“Is there someplace we can talk?”

“Not around here.”

“I understand,” I said and we went back to my car to talk.

“What’s up?”

“There was a robbery at one of the businesses we own.”

“Which one?” Tamia asked.

“Paradise Fish and Chicken.”

“I know the place. Good take-out.”

“Two people were killed.”

“Your employees?”

“No, they were customers. They were standing in line. Apparently the robbers shot them for no reason.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that, but I’ll ask some questions and get back to you.” Tamia took out a business card and wrote her new address and phone number on the back of it. “Memorize that and get rid of it, please.”

I started to go home and get back in the bed. Wanda and I had been up late and I was tired. I started driving in that direction, but somewhere along the way I decided to ride by Zakiya Phillips’s apartment and have a look around. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I went anyway.

Mrs. Phillips didn’t have a key to her granddaughter’s apartment, so I let myself in. It was a small apartment, but it was very well-furnished. Zakiya seemed to have good taste; a taste for very expensive stuff. Mrs. Phillips didn’t say anything about Zakiya having a job, just that she was a good girl, who had a bachelor’s degree in sociology and a minor in psychology and was about to attend law school. I looked around the apartment and wondered what type of work-study program she was on that would allow her to afford the kind of stuff she had.

I could think of one.

Drugs.

Maybe Mrs. Phillips didn’t know Zakiya like she thought she did. Wouldn’t be the first time the parents were surprised by what their child was really into. I continued to look around for anything that would support my conclusion. If she really was involved with somebody who was involved in the game, maybe there were some clues here that would lead me in the right direction. The only thing I found was a picture that she took at some club, and a business card for a beauty shop.

I took both and left her apartment, and once again decided against goin’ home and gettin’ in the bed. The beauty shop was to be my next stop. I went in the beauty shop to ask if anyone knew Zakiya and could tell me anything about her. While the beauticians told me their stories about what a nice girl Zakiya was, and how they couldn’t imagine why anybody would want to kill her, one of the customers, who was looking at me but not offering any comment, got up and left. “Where you goin’, Dee? You’re next,” one of the beauticians said as she headed for the door.

“I just got to get something from my car. I’ll be right back,” she replied and left the shop.

I asked a few more questions and listened to a few more glowing endorsements about how wonderful Zakiya was, and then I left the shop. Before I made it to my car the woman stopped me.

“Hey mister.”

“Yes,” I said and walked toward her.

“You want to know about Zakiya?”

“I do. Were you and her friends?”

“Yeah, we were friends. We weren’t real tight or anything like that, but I knew her. We used to hangout, you know, hit the clubs or whatever. I know her better than any of those bitches in there.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I don’t want any of them gossipy bitches up in my business. Other than them being here when Zakiya got her hair done, ain’t none of them know anything about her.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much. Like I said, we
wasn’t
real tight. I’ll tell you what I do know if it will help you find out who killed her. Just not right now. I gotta get back in there before I lose my place. I don’t want to be here all day. Can I meet you sometime later?”

“When they’re finished with your hair, I’ll be right here in that car waiting for you,” I said and pointed at the Caddy.

“You don’t mind waiting?”

“Not if you got something to tell me, I don’t,” I told Dee and got in the car.

I don’t know how long I had been waiting when Dee tapped on the window; probably ’cause I fell asleep as soon as I got comfortable in the car.

I motioned for her to come around to the passenger side and she got in. “So what can you tell me about Zakiya?”

“What you want to know?”

“Did she have a job?” was my first question. I really only had two.

“Yeah, she had a part-time job at Cross County Mall.”

“Do you know where?”

“No. Just that she worked out there.”

“Do you know if she was involved with drugs or anybody that sells drugs?”

“If she did, she never said anything about it. And I can tell you for sure, when you got a baller on the hook, you tell everybody.”

“Even if it ruined her good-girl image?”

Dee laughed when I said good girl. “Zakiya was cool, and I don’t think she was rollin’ with no ballers, but good girl—I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Good girls don’t fuck married men.”

“Do you know who this married man was?”

“No, she never would tell us what his name was or what he did. Just that he was married and had enough paper to take good care of her.”

“But you’re sure it wasn’t a baller?”

“Sure? No. But Zakiya didn’t have
no
heart for drugs. She never said why she was so against it, but she was. Her feeling that way, I seriously doubt that she would get involved with somebody like that.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why you keep asking me about this drug thing?”

“Cops say her murder was drug related. Her grandmother doesn’t believe it.”

“Neither do
I
,” Dee said and started to get out of the car.

“Where can I find you if I have anymore questions?”

Dee dug around in her purse for some paper and something to write with. She wrote down her number and handed it to me. “You can call me anytime; whether you got questions or not.”

Chapter 8

I decided to go by Paradise Fish and Chicken. On the way there I called Wanda’s personal assistant to find out who the manager of Paradise was. She told me that his name was Al Harris, and she offered to call ahead so he would be expecting me.

The place was crowded when I got there, so I took a seat and waited for them to clear the line before I approached the two ladies behind the counter. While I waited I noticed the security cameras behind the counter and another one in the dining area. I wondered if they had a recording.

Once the line was gone, I stepped to the counter. “Hello, ladies. Is Al Harris here?”

“You must be Nick Simmons,” one of the ladies said. She had light, almost blonde braided hair and light eyes, neither of which appeared to be her own.

“That’s right.”

“Al said we should be nice to you,” light eyes said.

“Said we should treat you like we treated Freeze,” the other said.

“How did you treat Freeze?”

“I was scared of him, but Shameka liked him. She thought he was cute,” light eyes said, and Shameka took a playful swing at her.

“Tasheka?”

“What? You
was
always talkin’ ’bout what a cutie he was.”

“Yeah, but he don’t need to know all that,” Shameka said. “I’ll go get Al for you.”

“So you want somethin’ to eat, somethin’ to drink?” Tasheka asked. “I guess since we supposed to treat you like Freeze, everything is free. You can have anything you want,” she said with her arms open as Al Harris came rushing out of the back. “Chicken is fresh out the fryer and I just made the lemonade.”

“Lemonade sounds good, but don’t put a lot of ice in it.”

Tasheka smiled at me and went to get the lemonade.

“Mr. Simmons. I’m Al Harris, I’m the manager here,” he said nervously. He was an older gentleman, in his late fifties maybe.