Cruel Justice

56

BEN PARKED HIS CAR just behind his mother’s Mercedes. Hard to miss; it stood out like a diamond in the dirt. Miracle she still had her hubcaps. Statistically, Tulsa was the car-theft capital of the nation; most people in this neighborhood either parked in garages or made do with worthless wrecks like Ben’s Honda.

Ben approached his boardinghouse cautiously. This was not a good neighborhood, especially so late at night. He normally tried to be home before dark, but trials made that impossible. Especially when you’re doing interviews on the ten o’clock news.

As expected, Bullock had used the forum to grandstand and try to influence the outcome of the case. Ben couldn’t believe some of what Bullock said. It was as if he were willing to do or say anything to—

“Pssst.”

Ben froze. He looked all around him, but saw nothing. He had almost made it to the front porch of the house. Where …?

“Pssst.”

Ben looked around the corner of the house. It was pitch-black. He couldn’t see a thing.

Cautiously, Ben stepped around the side of the building. There were no streetlights, or any other lights, that reached back here.

He followed the wall to the back of the brownstone. He knew from prior visits that the would-be backyard was a small rectangular area overgrown with grass and weeds. For a while Ben had parked his Honda back here, till someone had the bad taste to put a dead body in it. After that mess was finally cleared up, Ben decided it would be best just to leave his car on the street. Really, what could anyone do to it that hadn’t already been done?

Ben squinted, trying to detect some reflection or movement somewhere in the darkness. He couldn’t find any. He kept walking, slowly, one step at a time, feeling his way along the back wall.

Ben heard a sudden crash. He literally leaped up into the air. He felt as if his heart was going to pound its way out of his body.

Trash bins. He had walked into the Dumpsters and knocked the lids down. Swell. If there was anyone back here, he wouldn’t be taking him by surprise.

Two hands slapped down on Ben’s shoulders from behind. Ben whirled around, his heart racing.

The figure before him was visible only as a shadow, an immense shadow, outlined against the dark sky.

“You wanted to see me?” His voice was deep and menacing.

“D-did I? I’m Ben Kincaid. I’m an attorney—”

“I know who you are. Did you have some bizness wi’ me?”

Something about his voice, his size, and his diction triggered a lightbulb in Ben’s brain. This was Joni’s boyfriend. Booker. She had arranged a meeting.

“If you wants to talk, talk,” the deep voice commanded. “I ain’t s’posed to be here. If certain people knew, they’d cut my eyeballs out. Yours, too.”

“Then why did you come?”

“ ’Cause my Joni asked me to. I do it for her. Not you.”

Ben plunged in. Time was probably of the essence. “You know who Leeman Hayes is, right?”

“I saw you there at his papa’s house, and you saw me.”

“Right. Do you realize I’m defending Leeman on a murder charge?”

“Didn’t Leeman kill no one. No way, no how. He wouldn’t do that.”

“I agree,” Ben said. “Unfortunately, I have to prove it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about no murder.”

“Probably not,” Ben agreed. “But I think you do know something about the Utica Greens Country Club.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I saw you and your gang buddies in Captain Pearson’s office.”

“We ain’t no gang.”

“Fine. Your youth group. Your poor boys’ Rotary Club. Whatever you want to call it. I’ve seen you in uniform, so don’t bother lying. You’re a Demon.” Ben knew he was taking a major risk, talking tough with a guy like this. Somehow, though, he thought he would get farther if he could earn his respect.

“So what’s your point?”

“I want to know what the connection is between the gang and the country club.”

Booker drew himself up. “You know what would happen if my friends knew I was talkin’ wi’ you?”

“Yeah. The eyeballs thing. So answer my question already. What’s the connection?”

“We … do some bizness together.”

“What kind of business?”

Booker folded his arms across his chest. “I ain’t sayin’.”

“Booker, this could make the difference between life and death for Leeman. Think about it. Does Leeman Hayes deserve to die? Or be imprisoned for life? For a crime he didn’t commit? While some other SOB who really did it goes free?”

There was no answer.

“How would you feel if Leeman was a member of your gang? How would you feel if he was your brother? Would you let him die for nothing?”

Booker hesitated a few seconds longer. “We run pickups and deliveries for Pearson.”

“Deliveries of what?”

“Valuable goods.”

“And by goods, you mean drugs.”

The shadow that was Booker nodded slowly.

“Cocaine, right?”

“Among others.”

“Who gets the stuff?”

“Don’t know. We pick it up for Pearson so he doesn’t have to risk gettin’ his pretty white neck thrown in jail, and he pays us for it. Part in cash, part in kind. What he does with his cut I don’t know.”

“And where do the Demons get the stuff?”

“Comes in from Peru,” Booker replied. “Pearson arranges it. He knows lots of people down there.”

“How long has this gone on?”

“Don’t know. Since I been with the Demons.”

“When did you join?”

“ ’Bout three months ago.”

“Are the Demons planning a hit on the Cobras? Or vice versa?”

“What’s that gotta do with Leeman?”

“Probably nothing. But it could make this a pretty unpleasant time to be a Demon.”

The big youth moved closer to Ben. Ben couldn’t actually see the approach; he saw only the widening of the black shadow that blotted out the sky; he felt only the heat radiating from the boy’s huge frame.

“Joni tell me that if I help you, you won’t tell her parents about us.”

“I never made that promise.”

The two huge hands descended once again on Ben’s shoulders. “Then you promise me.”

Ben tried to look him square in the eye, which was difficult, since he couldn’t even see his face. “Look, I’m not planning to tell anyone anything. But you can’t keep this romance a secret forever. Eventually someone’s going to find out. You’re going to have to face up to her parents.”

“Joni don’t want that to happen now. When the time come, I’ll face it.”

“Tell you what. You promise me you’ll get out of the Demons, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“You don’t know what you’re askin’.”

“I know the Demons are heading toward some serious trouble. And I don’t want you and Joni to get tangled up in it.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“I care about Joni. And I don’t think it would make her very happy if she could only see her boyfriend twice a month on visiting day. Believe me, Booker, you don’t need the gang. You can make it without them.”

“The Demons cared about me when no one else did.”

“Maybe so, but Joni cares about you now. Whaddaya say?”

Booker slowly removed his hands from Ben’s shoulders. “You just don’t know what you’re askin’.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I know how hard it is to get out of a gang. But you need to do it anyway. Quickly.”

The shadow took a step back. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“Good.” Ben started to leave, then stopped. “And by the way. I wouldn’t wait until Joni’s parents find out about you by accident, or hear it from Mrs. Marmelstein or something. I’d tell them myself. They might not like it, but they’ll appreciate your honesty.”

The shadow nodded.

“Thanks again. And good luck.”

Ben tiptoed upstairs and quietly turned the key in the door. He hoped his mother wasn’t too upset or worried or whatever it was mothers did.

As if he didn’t have enough problems already, now he had his mother questioning and frowning and suggesting in her subtle way that everything about his life was second-rate. Pressure like this he didn’t need. He had assumed she would leave after a few days; now she seemed to be treating this like an extended holiday.

Ben tiptoed into the main living room. To his surprise, he found his mother sound asleep on the sofa. Joey was cradled in her lap, equally asleep.

He tiptoed closer. There was a soft whistle of air flowing in and out of her teeth, a rhythmic singsong. In sleep, her usual steely facade was gone. She seemed so vulnerable, sitting there, eyes closed. So old. So fragile.

There was a plate of food on the dining table. More chicken something-or-other. He took a bite. Not bad, even cold. Not bad at all. He wolfed down the entire plate. Mother was definitely recovering her culinary talents.

He tiptoed back into the living room. He thought about waking her, but she seemed so relaxed he didn’t have the heart. He lifted Joey out of her arms and carefully laid him down in his makeshift bed. Then Ben returned to the living room and put a blanket over his mother.

It was then that the memory hit him. He was three, maybe four, and they were back at their house, not the palatial one in Nichols Hills, but someplace they had lived before, someplace smaller, someplace … closer. He was playing in bed—no, he was sick. He had a high fever, a virus or something, and he was stuck in bed but he couldn’t sleep, and his mother was reading to him, keeping him company. She was sitting in the chair beside his bed, but she fell asleep.

Ben saw it all with crystal clarity, even though he hadn’t remembered the incident for years. Little Ben pulled a heavy blanket off his bed and wrapped it around his mother. He remembered it all so vividly, it was as if he were doing it right now, this instant, feeling just as he did then.

He remembered why he did it, too. It wasn’t because he felt guilty. It wasn’t because he was afraid she would be mad at him, or disappointed.

It was because he loved her.

Gently, he kissed his mother on the cheek and tiptoed out of the room.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a horrible development if she stayed a bit longer. After all, she was helpful with Joey. And she made a dynamite chicken something-or-other.

He was definitely going to have to get her Mercedes off the street, though.