The Car Bomb (The detroit im dying Trilogy, Book 1) (10 page)

“
So then you
were
at the house when it happened. The police have been saying you weren’t.”

“
No, they don’t know. I was there, in the basement. I didn’t see it happen, but I heard it.” He paused for a moment. “And by the time I go upstairs and look, it was so far bad, I knew they were all of them gone.” He stopped and stared at the sun heading down.

Frank said nothing.

“
Jesus, I didn’t know what to do, so I just split, down the alley and out of the hood, and nobody even seen me with all the cops and ambulances coming and the sirens goin’.”

He looked back at Frank. “But I mean, Nita and the babies, they wasn’t even supposed to be in town. Supposed to be in Chicago, but our van had to go in the shop.”

Frank shook his head again and finally asked, “So you still have the tape?”

“
Not with me, no, but, yeah, I got it.”

“
Why did you call me, Anthony?”

“‘
Cause I don’t trust any cops, even the feds, ‘til this whole thing is public.”

“
So why trust me?”

“
I don’t really know, man. I really don’t. Specially when I read about you and the judge being’ pals in the newspaper.”

“
You’re reading a guy that hates me. And besides, if the judge is dirty, no friendship’s gonna save him.”

“
Yeah, well, anyway, there’s no one else left for me. And I’m not figurin’ to just disappear. They’re gonna pay for what they done.”

Frank looked at him for a long time, studying the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. Finally, he put out his hand, and Anthony shook it. And then Frank surprised himself, grabbing the man and giving him a hug.

When he looked into those eyes again, he said, “I’ll have to do some checking, Anthony. But the next time I see you, I’ll need that tape.”

Peoples nodded. “My life, man, what’s left of it, it’s in your hands.”

At 9:30 it was quiet in the night-side newsroom. Francine was working at one computer and reporter Don Allard at another. Frank walked in with energy and purpose.

“
Francine, can you get me Prentis Gant’s home address.”

“
Right away, Frank.”

Frank moved past Allard. “How you doing, Don?”

“
Good, Frank. You see Barnes’ column?”

“
Tonight?”

“
Yeah, another blind item. I don’t know how he gets away with that shit. If we did anything like that, they’d run us out of town.”

Frank scooped up a copy of the Freep as he walked past a desk. “You got that right.”

Francine remembered something and turned away from her computer. “Frank, Alice left word. She wants to see you. I think Jack’s with her.”

He stopped abruptly. “At this hour?”

“
Yes, she said as soon as you came in.”

Reading the paper folded over, Frank was walking down a long hallway. He stopped, finished what he was reading, then shook his head in disgust and walked again.

In the VP-GM’s suite the secretary’s desk was buttoned up. Frank entered and moved through to stand in the doorway to Alice Whitney’s office. Alice was at her desk, and with his pipe clamped in his mouth, Jack Johanson occupied a chair. Between them on the desk was the same paper Frank had been reading.

He walked in. “So, burning the midnight oil.”

Alice looked up. “How are you, Frank?”

”
I’m fine, Alice, and you?” He moved to another chair in front of the desk, ignoring Johanson. “Why so late?”

“
I was catching up. These quarterly reports always put me behind. And Jack and I were talking about Barnes.”

Frank nodded. “Ah, Jack’s favorite journalist.”

The news director looked at the ceiling and said, “You’re my favorite journalist, Frank.”

Frank promptly dropped his cool. “Oh, horseshit, Jack. I can’t remember the last time you gave a newspaper guy an interview. You must think Barnes is something so special that you...”

Alice intervened. “Frank, I asked Jack to see Barnes.”

Frank’s head shook with disgust. “When are you guys ever gonna learn he’s a snake? He’ll take all your schmoozing and then turn around and bite you in the ass. Or rather, bite me in the ass. He’s a fuckin’ snake.”

Alice stared him firmly in the eye. “He may be a snake, Frank, but he writes this town’s most widely read column every other day. He can bite you in the ass whenever he feels like it. What’s the old line, ‘Never get, into a pissing match with an elephant?’"

“
With a skunk” laughed Frank. “‘Never get into a pissing match with a skunk.’ I love it when you gals try to be one of the boys.”

Alice bowed her head briefly with annoyance. “Look, Frank, Jack and I’ve been talking, and we think it might be a good idea if you took some time off.”

“
What?” For the second time this night Frank was shocked.

Alice knew she’d finally got his attention. “You seem to be under a lot of pressure lately, Frank. And the fact is you’ve been through a lot in the past year. Take some time off. Get things patched up at home. Stay out of the spotlight for a while and get your life together.”

He stared at her dumbfounded as Alice sailed on. “The fact is you seem to be drinking more than you should again. And lately it seems to be affecting your work. You’re not as sharp. And frankly, your judgment seems to be lacking, especially in public situations that are bound to find their way into print with Wil Barnes in this town.”

He felt himself getting mobilized. “I can’t believe this. Is this all because of a stupid little three-line item in Barnes’ column tonight?” Picking up the folded-over newspaper he’d been holding, he read:

“‘
Which local media prince is battling booze and the blues with both his wife and his long-time mistress? Friends say both women have had it with him and want a divorce.’”

He looked up at Alice. “Christ, most people won’t even know who he’s talking about.”

She shook her head. “Give your audience more credit than that, Frank.”

Johanson said, “Look, Frank, Barnes says there’s a lot more where that came from. He says he has a date with Sherie to spill her guts about you and booze and drugs and other women.”

For the first time Frank felt a stab of something close to fear. “Barnes is a fucking liar!”

“
I’m sure he is,” said Johanson. “But apparently he’s working on a major spread that names names and could appear as early as Sunday. That’s what I was doing with him today, Frank—damage control, giving him quote after quote about what a remarkable journalist you are. All of which I believe, by the way.”

Alice tried a woman’s touch. “Look, Frank, we’re on your side. All we’re concerned about is you and your family. And we really think you should take some time off.”

Staring down at the paper in his lap, Frank seemed beaten. But when he looked up, there was a powerful appeal in his eyes. “Alice, I’m working on what could be the biggest expose we’ve ever done here. Bigger than that thing with the mayor’s family a few years ago. And the one thing I need right now is air time. Don’t take me off.”

She glanced at Johanson, who looked more than a little dubious. “What’s the story, Frank?”

“
I can’t tell you right now. It involves some powerful guys in this town who happen to be friends of mine. And I don’t want to say anything until I’ve absolutely nailed it down. Look, you wanted me to take some time off? Take me off tonight’s eleven and maybe tomorrow’s. Don’s in the newsroom. He can sit in for me. I could really use the time to work on this story.”

Johanson was rolling his eyes and shaking his head as Alice glanced at him again. He said, “No, this is crazy. You’ve got to tell us something.”

“
Look, it’s that car bombing we had last month. Tonight I met with the guy whose family was blown away. And the next time I see him, I may have the whole thing wrapped up with a bow.”

Alice stared at Johanson who puffed on his pipe.

In the darkness enveloping this carefully-manicured, upper-middle-class residential street, Frank stepped out of the Viper. He had parked under one of the three dead streetlights on this block, and pausing to check out the large, nicely-kept older home in front of him, he made a note to tell the desk there was a story here: even in Sherwood Forrest, one of its few well-to-do and well-connected neighborhoods, this hapless city couldn’t keep the streetlights on.

As he walked toward the home, his quick scan of the block missed a car parked a hundred yards behind the Viper. In it a man in a black hooded sweatshirt over a black baseball cap sat low behind the wheel and watched Frank proceed up the front walk.

On the porch Frank rang the bell, and after a short wait, the inside door opened, and the former county prosecutor Prentis Gant appeared at the screen door.

“
Hi, Frank DeFauw, Mr. Gant. We’ve talked in the past.”

After an awkward pause: “Right. What can I do for you?”

“
If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d like to come in and talk with you.”

Gant looked exhausted and uttered an audible sigh. “Frank, it’s 11 o’clock at night, and I’ve retired from public life.”

“
I know that, but I spoke with Anthony Peoples tonight, and he said some things I’d like to check with you.”

Gant looked past Frank toward the street, then unlocked and opened the screen. “Well, I can give you a few minutes, but I’m sure there’s nothing I can help you with.”

The man watching from the car down the block saw Frank step into the house. Moving out of the car, the man walked up the street.

Inside the home, as he ushered Frank through a spotless, well-appointed living room, Gant said, “Let’s sit on the back porch.”

“
Fine.”

As they moved past a staircase, an Hispanic woman was standing half-way down in a long dressing gown.

The woman spoke softly with an accent: “What is it, Prent?”

Gant stopped and looked up. “Ah, Dee, this is Frank DeFauw from TV. Frank, my wife Delores.”

With a deeply concerned look, she nodded as Frank said, “Hi, Delores. Sorry to bother you at this hour.”

“
No bother.” she said, keeping her gaze on her husband.

Gant said, “Honey, we’ll only be a few minutes. Are the kids asleep?”

“
I think so.”

“
Why don’t you check on them, and I’ll be up shortly.”

Delores tried a smile. “Sure.” She nodded again at Frank, turned and moved back up the stairs. The two men continued toward the back of the house and moved on to a large screened-in porch. Gant motioned him to a rattan chair and said, “You spoke with Peoples.”

As he answered, “Yes, I did,” a cat yowled outside the porch and pawed at the screen. Gant unlocked and opened the door, saying, “C’mon, Sailor.” The black and white shorthair took a nervous look at Frank and moved quickly through the porch and into the house.

Frank decided he’d better get right to the point. “Yeah, so he told me he worked with you to get evidence for a bribery case against Judge O’Bryan and Sam Dworkin.”

Sitting in another rattan piece across from Frank, Gant shifted and stared at him for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “All I can tell you about Peoples is what you probably already know. Some months ago he was charged with armed robbery and felony murder. And the charges were later dropped because of a lack of evidence.”

Frank nodded. “He said because of the bribery case, you were forced to resign and his family was murdered in the car bombing.”

Gant shook his head and spoke quickly. “I resigned for the reasons I stated at the time. Obviously I know nothing about the car bombing.”

“
Peoples told me he has a videotape of the payoff.”

Again without hesitation: “I have no knowledge of what Peoples has.”

“
He said your wife has relatives here in the states illegally, and that’s what they used to pressure you.”

“
My wife has no relatives here.”

He stared hard at Gant. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“
That’s all there is to say.” Gant was already on his feet. “I’m sorry I can’t help you any further.”

Outside the Gant home, the man in the black cap and sweatshirt was moving along one side of the yard toward the screened-in back porch. As he peered around a large, thick bush and into the porch, he saw the two men walking back into the house.

Waiting several seconds, he then moved to the screen door and tried the handle.

Silently Gant led Frank past the stairway, back through the living room into the front vestibule. He opened the heavy oak door and pushed the screen open. In close quarters he turned and spoke firmly a few inches from Frank’s face. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing with Peoples’s story, Frank, but I would strongly advise you to let law enforcement handle it. You’re playing a dangerous game at the moment, and you’re likely to get somebody hurt.”

Frank moved past Gant and out the door. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Gant. You change your mind, just give me a call.”

Gant said nothing, and Frank moved down the front walk.

Parting the curtains at a second-floor bedroom window, Delores Gant looked outside. She watched Frank as he walked to his little roadster and got in. Once the car began to drive away, the woman moved back to a four-year-old boy sitting up in bed. She gave him a warm hug and kiss.

Then a sharp crack came from somewhere below in the house. The woman froze with a stricken look, then laid the child down and said “Mamma will be right back.”

Leaving the room, she grabbed the railing in the hall at the top of the stairs and called, “Prent?”

Descending the stairs, she stopped again near the bottom. “Prent!”

Now she moved down the last two steps and walked cautiously through a dining room to the double doors that led to the screened-in porch. “Darling, where are you?”