Part 3: Enter the Detective

Her consciousness returned to her like a record slowly speeding up to an unusual melody. She could tell what time it was by the way Mitch answered the phone. His voice still hoarse from sleep “it better be good for 4 in the morning.”

It was his work phone, the one that rang so low she often didn’t hear it. She had heard him groggily fumbling for it at its place on his nightstand. She waited, half between asleep and dreams, to see if he would respond to the call or stay in bed. When he seemed to rise she knew he would be gone in minutes.

She was too tired to understand his conversation, but she assumed it direly important, like it always was. Nicole Denise Despain had grown accustomed to her live in Fiancé and his odd hours. She tried not to miss the empty spot Mitch would leave on his side of the bed. She hoped the dog would notice her loneliness and join her in his place.

She heard him fumbling about trying to put on clothes. She knew that he would grab jeans and a button down if it was a hurry, slacks and a tie if it was life or death. While she thoughtfully ruminated about the situation sleep seemed to encroach and she found her eyes waking to him, in the blue tie, kissing her on the forehead. He whispered something about where he was going, but she was too far gone to remember what he said in the morning. When she opened her eyes again he wasn’t there. Nicole thought she heard the door close but she could have dreamed it. Behind her the dog, Bear, a massive shaggy black mutt with a long Labrador nose, weighed heavy on the comforter. She tugged it to keep her self nestled in warmth and tried to maintain the slumber that would elude her if she began to worry about him leaving so early in the morning, again.

* * *

Mitch Wells arrived within 20 minutes to the address he had gotten from the phone. He drove within the speed limits, mostly because he could not be sure if he was lucid enough to speed. When he pulled up he saw the boys at the car, like they said they would be. Cleveland in back with the door open, his feet dangling into the street. The white boy, Clay, was sitting on the trunk. The other boy, Mason paced on the side walk on the other side of the car. They looked as though they hadn’t been to sleep, and, if things had gone differently, they might still be out wandering the streets. Mitch pulled his car in behind theirs, a gold Chevy Impala. Mitch wondered for a moment if the car was stolen. He would rank that as the third question of the evening.

Cleveland rose to meet him and put away his game boy. Mitch stepped out of the car his cell phone already in his hand. Mitch said, “Have you talked to anyone else since you called me?”

Cleveland answered, “Nah man, we called you first thing. We been sitting here since. Who you calling?”

Mitch looked up the street, “I’m calling the police,” he looked to Clay, who was closest and asked “is this car stolen?”

Clay shrugged, “I don’t know, is it?”

Mason answered from the other side of the vehicle, “yes it is, technically it’s a repo for nonpayment.”

Mitch looked to Mason and nodded, “Roscoe?” Mason nodded back. Mitch said “why do you still have it?”

Clay said “did he call you to grill us, or to deal with this sh!t?”

Mitch ignored Clay for the moment and began to speak into the phone, “yes, is Detective Johnson on tonight? What about Zilliox? Yeah, can you put me through? Thank you.” Mitch looked up to the others, “Who can take this car back while we wait for them to arrive?”

Clay said “I would love to.”

Mitch smirked “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you have a legit ride back?”

Clay nodded “Sure do, dick.”

Mitch was back on the call, “Yeah Zill, how’s it going man? I’m gonna need you to send out a unit and a wagon. I’m on Earnshaw Avenue, right across from Christ hospital. Little street with one long apartment on it. Yeah, I know. Yeah, I’ll tell you more when you get here. Yeah, far as I know no one has gone in yet, other than the boys that found him. Yeah, okay. See you in twenty. Bye.”

While he was talking Clay had gotten the keys from Mason and started the Chevy. Mitch tapped the hood. “Come back in a legit ride, ASAP.”

Clay waved him off, “right, I heard you pops.”

As Clay pulled off Mitch shook his head, “mother f@cker always gotta have something to say.”

Private investigator Mitch Wells was a young looking black man at 38 years, standing in the street at four in the morning wearing a light blazer and his good grey slacks with a blue tie. Standing before him were two young black men. Cleveland was 23, his hair corn rowed, wearing an oversized black and red Avirex Jacket, the kind with the obnoxiously large branding all over the sleeves and back. Mason, at 26, wore about four shirts that fit him well enough to show the muscles that were defined on his arms. Mason’s top shirt was a brown T with JJ from Good Times stenciled on the front.

Mitch didn’t say anything for a while; his brain seemed to be moving where his body wasn’t. Mason and Cleveland stared at him, waiting. Right when they got just uncomfortable enough, Mitch finally said, “Show me where you found him.”

Mason turned and walked towards the building. Mitch began to ask questions again which put Mason at ease. He was hoping that this man didn’t go making things worse.

Mitch said “tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Cleveland answered. “You want to know from the real beginning, like when they stole the car, or when we got the bitches and dropped them off.”

“I want to know what got you to this place, leave out anything that doesn’t have anything to do with you stopping by to see a dead man.”

Cleveland answered “But it’s all got to do, it was some crazy sh!t we ended up here. We was supposed to go straight to North side with the car, we was almost there when the car died cause a no gas.”

Mitch raised a hand to Cleveland as they crossed the threshold to the apartment building. On the first floor was the apartment. Mason stopped at the door and didn’t move. Mitch put his hand inside his jacket to nudge the door. It was slightly ajar. It was dark inside. He didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene and have Zill yelling at him for months. Mitch asked if they had left the door open. Mason said they had but that it had been opened a bit when they came. Mitch looked at the door jamb which showed stress as though the door might have been forced open. When Mitch backed away from the door he looked to Mason and Cleveland. As they walked back outside he encouraged them to continue with the story.

Cleveland said “So the car breaks down and they go get these dames,

Mitch corrected him “Call them women Cleveland.”

“Nah, they were little dames, like 14 and 17.
“What are you doing out with underage girls?”

Mason finally spoke up “They needed a ride home, so we gave them one. Some dumb ass boys had ditched them in Mount Airy Park.”

Cleveland returned to his version. His voice began to get more excited as he spoke. “So yeah, Mason says his dude live right up the street from them dames, cause we dropped them off on sycamore. Right down the hill right, and so we drive up the hill on our way back to North side, which ain’t really back, but you know, we thought of it like on the way”

Mitch cut him off again “details Cleveland, unnecessary details. Cops are on their way, I need the story.”

Cleveland apologized. “Sorry god, I was just getting into the story, so we come this way and Mase say he gonna check on his boy and he go up and come back and say dude is dead, is all I know. I call you cause you the man to call when there’s trouble right?”

“So you found him?” Mitch asked

Mason nodded. “Yeah, I saw the door open and decided to let myself in and see if he was okay. I get 5 steps into the living room and find the boy beaten to death on the rug. That’s my word.”

Mitch asked him “have you ever seen a dead body before?”

Mason nodded.

“Fresh?” Mitch asked, his eyes perked a little. Mason nodded again, Mitch asked, “Did your boy look Fresh?”

Mason nodded solemnly.

“Okay, questions, why stop by at 4 in the morning if it wasn’t drug or gang related?”

Mason’s eyes narrowed, he looked to Cleveland before answering, “Me and dude was cool, I ain’t heard from him in like three, four weeks, and he wasn’t answering his phone.”

“No drugs or stolen cars in this? Like you know him from some of that sh!t?”

Mason spoke to Cleveland, “Why you call your boy if he gonna come at me like a penguin?”

Mitch kept his eyes on Mason, “Real cops’ll be here in minutes, I’m just asking you the questions those guys’ll ask so you’ll be thinking about it, rolling it over in your mind. To a cop it don’t make much sense for three dudes to just stop by a house at 4 in the morning to check on a buddy, less they involved in some illegal sh!t, which would explain why your boy is dead in there.”

“Man, Gerald was cool, ain’t really get down with no sh!t, he played it straight, had him a job at a bank and everything. Had him a little woman down in Avondale could cook.”

Mitch looked to Cleveland for confirmation. Cleveland said “we used to play video games, whoop him in madden, that’s the gist. His girl and him was gonna buy a house and throw madden parties on the weekends. Talked about it all the time.”

Mitch asked “did you smoke together?”

“Time to time” Mason remarked. “He wasn’t really a big weed head though.”

“So no reason you see he could be dead?”

“Man, that’s why we call you. He was any body else we’d a drove to Northside and called it in from a pay phone. Cleveland say his boy handle sh!t like this so we let him call you. I wanna know what happened to Gerald.” Mason’s voice cracked with emotion he had been smoldering since Mitch pulled up. Mitch decided to play a little softer.

Mitch said “it’s alright man. We are going to find out what happened to your friend. I’m just trying to figure out what to tell the cops when they ask, and how it is going to look to them. Nobody else went in after you did they?”

Mason shook his head. His eyes were steady, almost empty, like with a few more years in the wrong direction he would go feral. Mitch had tangled with more than a few men who had grown up like Mason. He wondered what it would take to keep this boy tethered to humanity. Mitch asked him if he touched anything inside and Mason said no, that he hadn’t even found the light switch.

Mitch asked a few more questions of the two, working to keep Mason salient, and Cleveland quiet.

Mason asked, “I understand you calling the police and all, but are you gonna get the mother f@ckr that killed Gerald,”

“Son,” Mitch said, “I sure hope I can.” He paused again to think and then rose. “All right, when Detective Zilliox shows up I want you too to remain at the back and let me do most of the talking. Don’t say anything you aren’t asked first, and I don’t give you the nod to say okay? You are just concerned friends who wanted to check in on a buddy whom you hadn’t heard from in a month and hoped was okay.”

At the moment Clay pulled up in an old rust marked Toyota Tercel. He got out and said, “Squad cars on the way, I saw them in my rearview as I made the turn on Sycamore.”

Mitch looked to Clay and said, “I don’t want you to say a f@cking word, do you hear me, not a word to anyone.”

Clay looked at him confused, “what the f@ck did I do?’

“I mean it Clay, I am not in the mood for that verbal diarrhea attitude Sh!t you got going. Tonight is not the night. I’m tired and I left a beautiful Fiancé in bed with the dog to keep her warm so I could help you guys not go to jail over some randomly dumb sh!t, so do me a favor and keep it shut.”

“Whatever floats your f@cking boat, dick.”

“And you call me a dick again and I’m gonna flatten you, okay, save the cutesy dick sh!t for the way home with these two.”

The street suddenly seemed lit with the red and blue lights of a squad car. It darted to a stop in front of the three.

Cleveland chuckled, “Do you think they’ll let me see the body? I didn’t get to see it.”

Mitch turned to Cleveland and said, “You keep it shut too, till this is over, only Mason talks, cause he’s the only one got sense enough to shut up till I ask a question, okay.” Mitch moved to greet the officer who was putting on his cap as he got out of the car.

Another car pulled in behind it, this one a white unmarked. Detective Steve Zilliox emerged from the driver’s side in a dull dark colored suit with a grim expression. Mitch approached him with a smile, “Zill, Zill, Zill,” Mitch said, “You won’t believe the night you are about to have.”

Woods Walking

“What the hell is up with Gerald” Mason said as he closed the clamshell of his phone and dropped it in his pocket.
Clay shrugged. “Who the fuck is Gerald?” Clay lifted the full gas can that hung heavy at his side while they walked. “Here man, you take this now”

“You know G, does that thing over at that place, you know?” Mason took the gas can from him and slung it as they strolled.

“No the hell I don’t, that’s why I asked.” Clay responded.

“Tiff’s cousin who drives the Ford. He works at the bank in North side. You know him man, you just don’t remember. He was supposed to call me like two days ago about this thing.”

“Man you keep saying stuff, but you ain’t saying nothing.” Clay kicked a rock into the street.

They were walking down the back part of Shepard Creek Road at 3 in the morning. The small road was quiet except for the sounds of Mount Airy forest which surrounded them on either side. The moon was the only source of light that peaked at them through the dark canopy of trees. They were currently on their way back to the car, which had run out of gas midway down the hill and coasted to a stop on West Fork. They had to walk all the way up Shepard’s Creek to the Thornton’s on Colerain that was open 24 hours and borrow the gas can. Mason wasn’t so happy about the whole deal. They had taken this back road because the car was stolen. They should have just abandoned it but it was a repo job for Roscoe, and you didn’t go back to Roscoe empty handed.
Mason shook his head, “Fucking Roscoe going to get enough of sending us on these runs man.”
“Like you got shit else to do. At least this pay man.” Clay nudged his friend on the arm. “Rather be calling that new girl of yours? Wooing her till 4 am like you been doing lately?”
“Man, why you always on my back about that girl. I like her, you don’t have to.”
“She’s stuck up. Remember you invited her to poker at Snuzz house and she ain’t eat nothing.”
“Man, you always bring that up. She don’t eat swine man, so she ain’t going to eat not pigs in the blanket Snuzz microwaved for the occasion.”
“Whatever, she stuck up.”
Curtis Clayton Wise and Mason Benjamin Clarke had been friends and roommates for going on 14 years, since they both dropped out of high school to work construction for a guy named Maruenco who promised them that they could live in his apartments for free for as long as they were in his employ. It was a good gig, although Mason did more work than Clay. Only thing Clay was good at was tearing things down. On the side they did odd jobs for people they knew to get by. They lived relatively simple, drank and smoked too often, and stole whenever they had to, and often when they didn’t.
The two were so involved in their conversation hat they did not notice the two young girls that were walking in their direction. They were two black girls in denim outfits. They had on furry thigh high boots and shiny buckles on their belts with patches of fur everywhere on their clothes. Mason noticed them first and called out. “What the hell ya’ll doing out here this late?” He spoke to them as though he knew their parents.
As the girls approached one of them spoke. “You got a phone?”
Clay squinted at them. “Why you wanna know?”
“We gotta call our people. My aunt live up on North Bend and I want to see if she can give us a ride home.”
“What the hell are ya’ll doing out here this time of night?” Mason repeated.
Clay followed his statement “What are you like 14?”
“I’m sixteen.” The talkative one said. “This my cousin, Shanika, she 17.”
“Reanna we don’t know these boys.” The quiet one acted as though she were in a hurry to keep walking on a desolate road in the middle of the night.
Mason said. “I got a phone, and I’ll let you use it if you tell me what they hell you all are doing out here.”
The young one spoke first. “We was with these boys my cousin know, and they put us out in the woods.”
“What the fuck they do that for?” Clay interjected.
The older girl remained quiet, Reanna continued to talk. “They was just tripping, that’s why. They was mad because they brought us all the way out here and we wasn’t trying to do what they wanted.”
“You let them bring you all the way out here to drop you off?” Clay asked.
“Can we use the phone or what?” Shanika asked.
Mason reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “It’s prepaid so watch my minutes.”
“So they was trying to get on with you?” Clay asked.
“Damn, you a nosy white boy ain’t you?” Shanika said as she stepped away from the group to make her call.
“You using my phone I got a right to ask questions, damn.” Clay said.
“Actually it’s my phone.” Mason said. “He don’t like cell phones.”
“You the one think the government tracking you on it, why you got a phone then” Clay said.
“Why are you making this about me? So, Reanna, what the hell got you out with some dumb ass boys at 3 am?”
“We met them at this bar, and we was hanging out. They was talking about going to Perkins, but it was closed over here.”
“It closes at 10 on weekdays now.” Mason said.
“Yeah, so they drive us down in the woods,”
Clay interrupted, “And tried to get some or something?”
“Yeah, and I ain’t trying to do it in no woods. I ain’t even know them like that.”
“Reanna, what you doing at a bar on a school night?” Mason asked, still talking like he was her older cousin or something.
“I got a fake ID, shoot. I’m staying with my cousin for the night. Her mom work late, anyway so we told them boys we wasn’t going for that and they put us out. And they drove off and left us in the fucking woods.”
Clay said, “That’s some dumb shit.”
“We ain’t know they was gonna leave us. Dang, we was going to Perkins.”
Mason said “yo momma ain’t told you about strange boys?”
“You act like you my dad or something.”
Shanika returned. “You done telling all our business?” She thanked Mason as she handed him his phone.
“Y’all dumb as hell.” Clay chuckled.
Mason nudged him. “We got a car down the way; we can give you a ride home.”
Reanna asked “Why you walking through the woods to your car?”
Shanika “No thank you, we only got a little further to go to get to Colerain.”
Clay said “do you not see the gas can?”
Reanna replied “Oh, it’s too dark; I couldn’t tell what you had. Shoot.”
Mason sighed, “We ran out of gas, but we can get you up the hill to the gas station at least. Or we can take you where you going. Your choice. Or you can walk through the woods on your own, your choice.”
“I don’t know.”
“Now you making good decisions?” Clay laughed. “Could a done that with them other boys.”
Shanika grabbed her cousin’s arm. “Forget this, Come one Reanna.”
“Hold up, how far is your car?
Mason pointed. “Just down the hill, I’m surprised you didn’t pass it.”
“We literally walked out the woods over there. We almost went down the wrong road and was even more in the boonies than we started.”
Mason said, “I’ll keep a leash on my friend, and we’ll give you a ride okay. It’s cool, no pressure or nothing, your choice:”
“Why you trying to help us so bad?” Shanika asked.
“You remind me of my little cousins, and if they was out in the woods at 3 in the morning I would want a nice guy to come along and help them get home.”
“He ain’t so nice.” Shanika said.
“Well, that’s him; he likes to be a jerk. You want a ride or not?”
“Now I’m a jerk for saying that anyone would think. These girls did some dumb shit.”
“Why you gotta be so rude?” Shanika asked.
“I dunno, I’m just good at it.”
Reanna said “I ain’t trying to walk all night; I say we take the ride.”
Mason said, “Well, we are gonna start walking to our car, if you want the ride then follow us, okay?”
Mason started to walk back in the direction they were going. Clay shrugged and followed. Clay said “So now you gotta leash me? Huh? You and your fucking bleeding heart.”
Mason said, “Just come on man. 2 beers say they follow us.”
“Two beers say they too stupid to not think we axe murderers and take their chances finding their way back through the woods. Giving us crap like we was the ones that left them in the woods.”
The girls argued amongst themselves for a moment before Reanna called out “hey, what’s ya’lls names?” Shanika stewed and sighed behind her.
“I’m Mason, and he’s Clay.”
“So we going with you, okay. You can give us a ride downtown to Shanika’s house.”
“Okay.” Mason shrugged as the girls caught up to them.

* * *

The car they stole was gold 99 Chevy Impala. As they approached it they saw the glow of Cleveland’s game boy in the back window. The passenger side door was open and his legs ere sticking out. They had left their boy Cleveland to watch the car while they walked to get the gas can. They figured that Cleveland could entertain himself with games while they were gone. Cleveland stood and removed his stereo sized headphones when they approached. “Damn, ya’ll found dames in the woods? What’s up love-loves?”
Mason ignored Cleveland and dropped the gas can behind the car. Clay went around to the front and opened the driver side door to pop the gas tank door.
Reanna said “Hey, who is you?”
Cleveland tugged on the collar of his too big Avirex biker jacket. “Names Cleveland Bradford lovey dove. What’s your piece?”
“I’m Reanna and this my cousin Shanika, You a DJ or something? I think I seen you before.”
“Yeah, DJ Cabal. I do house parties sometimes. Mostly in Clifton, you be at Spot bar?”
“Yeah, Cabal, that’s where I seen you. Shoot, you got in a fight with your boys that one time.”
“Hell yeah. You was there the night we stomped DJ Books, damn, that was some good times. I been beefing with him for years, years. What ya’ll love doves doing out this piece so late for?”
Reanna shifted her weight on her hip. Mason noticed she seemed more comfortable talking to Cleveland. “We got stranded by these dumb boys. Your boy said he give us a ride.”
Shanika sighed and leaned against the car. Mason and Clay were finishing off putting the gas in the tank.
“Your girl in a bad mood, I understand, some boys ditch me and I be pissy too. Probably want to kick ass on every dude you see right? Want ta kick dudes smooth in the balls right? Not even a word just boo yah, that’s for stranding me in the woods. Nah, I don’t have to know you, I’m just kicking bre’s on principal.” Cleveland kicked at the air and made grand gestures as he spoke. He slid in to see if Shanika was smiling. He reacted when her frown cracked at the edges. “Ah, see, we ain’t all bad, I got you to smile right Love?”
Shanika shook her head to avoid laughing, “You stupid.”
“That’s cool, we give ya’ll a ride, cool, cool.” Cleveland smiled a wide Cheshire grin.
“She mad because they white boy was giving her crap about them boys putting us out.”
“That’s just Clay, he don’t say two words ain’t sarcasm all over them, right Love-Love? Don’t pay him no mind. We give ya’ll a ride and you can be on your merry way right?”
Mason said “We’re ready” as he got into the drivers side.
As Clay got in the passenger side he said “watch it man, she’s jail bait.”
Cleveland said “you ain’t eighteen?”
Reanna laughed a little too hard, “Nah, I’m, sixteen and she seventeen. She live with her mom but she work overnights at this place.”
Cleveland stood back to let her in the car. “That’s cool love-love. Just tell me when I go too far and I draw back before you have to press stat charges okay. I ain’t no Chester I keep it safe and to a minimum, alright love?”
Sakinah got in after him and said “You talk a lot.”
Mason started the car and turned it around to head up the hill.
Clay said to him, “Your little man found something to entertain himself ain’t made stamped Nintendo.”
Mason chuckled, “Only three things interest Cleveland for real, Video Games, Women, and Rap music.”
From the back Cleveland asked “Where y’all say y’all live?”

The open letter to my Brother

i just Posted the open letter to my brother on this blog. It is not really for everyone to read, but I struggled witht he thought of making it public. I feel that it is something that might help someone to read, not just him, but someone in need of encouragement.

I feel weird with the idea of placing it out in cyberspace but my heart led me to tack it up as a showing of strength and solidarity for my brother who I felt needs the love and support.

There is no way to comment on the page with the letter but you can comment here on this blog

Thank you,
Ritch

Part 1: Fear to Rise, or Sound’s Like the Cat

There was a crash that Gerald Parsons wished he could attribute to the cat but could not. The sweat starting to prick its way through his skin in the cold night air. He slowly tried to rise from his bed but was paralyzed by the fear that it could actually be someone in his house. He did not know what to think or how to deal with that possibility. He tried to pull the covers aside, but he wasn’t so sure that he was even awake to hear what he heard.

It was possible that this was all a dream that he had heard the sound, that he had even thought he was awake enough to register the noises of his home. Every part of his being wanted to just ignore the sounds and stay in bed.

But part of him knew he could not. He had to investigate. He felt like a child curled there in his bed and hoping there was no boogie man. He stirred, and then rolled over. As he got up he tried his hardest to listen for the faintest sound. His ears strained to take in anything that could possibly explain the situation without him having to rise from his bed. When he heard nothing he got up and slid into his house shoes. He got out of the bed and hit the light switch flooding the bedroom with visibility.

There was no one in the room with him. Gerald shrugged and scratched his back as he stepped slowly through the bedroom door and out into the hall. There was no one there. He walked to his kitchen, which he would reach before the living room in his apartment. On the floor of the kitchen was a broken vase that had been in the window. The flowers that had died in them weeks ago were spilled onto the floor. The window of his apartment sat ajar with the curtains flapping gingerly with the breeze. He bent down to see the broken glass and to collect his thoughts enough to figure out if he should do something about it.

Gerald Parsons turned around just in time to see the baseball bat hit him square in the face. The last thought he had on this earth was, “I don’t have a cat.”

To Be Continued…

Welcome to the Working World pt 3

This is the Hallspace Hub dedicated to writings and works of fiction.  Tune in here to see what random notes and musings fall out of my head and onto this space.

Hopefully you will be entertained.