Push Comes to Shove (32 page)

Jewels doubled over with laughter.

“I’m thinking about losing my religion and fucking you up, but this arthritis in my hip saved your ass, youngster.” He pumped at GP again, then went away.

“You was about to get whipped by a senior citizen, homeboy.” She laughed tears in her eyes. She went into a dead silence when the phone started ringing. GP armed himself with the Lord’s Prayer and picked up. “Hello.”

Hector scrolled the cable channels, pausing a few moments at a time, viewing anything that caught his attention.

“You’re hell with a remote. Give me that thing.” Squeeze motioned for him to toss it. Once the remote was in his hands, he positioned the channel on a network broadcasting the local news. He increased the volume.

“…that brings us to our special segment on children’s rapidly growing issues,” the newscaster said. “Authorities have crippled Ohio’s largest child-pornography and White-Slavery rings. Thirty-six suspects, including two city officials, are in the hands of justice this evening, held on multiple child abuse, molestation, and pornography charges. There are talks that Mayor Brandon Chambers is planning to award the officer, and perhaps the unknown tipster responsible for the arrests in this case, with a medal of honor.” The newscaster folded her hands. “In other child-related news…”

Footage of Mr. Reynolds leaving the Justice Center appeared in the corner of the screen.

“Claude Reynolds,” she continued, “of the Reynolds Eastside Group Home has been officially brought up on charges. The children who were once under his care are in the process of being moved to other facilities per a judge’s orders. Mr. Reynolds maintains his innocence. This is new footage of him being released today after posting a hundred-thousand-dollar property bond.”

Mr. Reynolds looked into the TV camera as he wobbled down the courthouse steps. “I would never do anything to bring harm to a child. I love all children.”

Hector’s watch alarm went off. Six o’clock p.m.

Squeeze turned down the TV’s volume a few notches and picked up the phone at the same time Kitchie began to bang on the bedroom door. “Go see what she wants.” He punched in a telephone number.

“Hello.” GP glanced at Jewels, who was now standing inches away from him.

“You got my cash?”

“Yeah. Put Kitchie on.”

“You’ll talk to her after you cash in. If you slide me some bogus paper this time, I’ll send my friend to the group home to pay your crumb-snatchers a visit.”

“It’s real.”

“It better be. If you ever want to see Kitchie alive again, keep the cops out of my business.”

“The cops don’t know shit. Now let’s do this.”

“Good, here’s what I want you to do…”

Squeeze placed the phone on its cradle. He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “What did she want?”

“Woman products. It’s that time.”

“Fuck her. That ain’t the only hole she’s gonna bleed from.”

Hector stuck his tongue through the gum and blew a bubble until it popped. “I knew GP wouldn’t come up with the money.”

“He has it, but this is how we’ll play it.” Squeeze started toward the door with Hector close behind. “We’ll meet GP with the money, show him where to find his wife, then kill them both at their reunion.”

“You’re gonna have to stop loaning folks money. The results are messy more times than not.”

As they secured the front door, the newscaster came back from a commercial break. “Local authorities have brought their search for missing ROTC student, Jap Silex, to an end. His body was…”

A minivan was parked catty-corner to the Lakewood high-rise’s entrance. Crutchfield and Thomas eased into the back and closed the double doors behind them.

“It’s about damn time.” A brunette sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup. “We were supposed to be relieved over an hour ago. This is why I hate stakeouts: nobody respects nobody’s time.”

“Don’t start shooting off your fat speaker box, Darlene. Some of us actually have something to do with our time.” Crutchfield took off his blazer and loosened his tie.

“Yeah,” Thomas said, “I’m not in the mood to hear your mouth, either.” He shifted his focus to the man behind the steering wheel. “Max, how do you put up with this snapping turtle?”

“I learned to keep my fingers and opinions out her face.” Max
passed Crutchfield a pair of binoculars. “I can’t remember his name.” He pointed toward the high-rise. “The dead guy’s brother.”

“Jesus, Miles! What’s on his mind?” Crutchfield took the binoculars away from his face and passed them to Thomas.

Darlene clapped her hands, then held one in front of Max. “Pay up. I told you his name was Miles. We’ve been partners for six years and you still don’t respect my memory? Hell, I remember things for you.”

Max dug into his pocket. “He rode up on a skateboard a few minutes after one this afternoon and hasn’t left. How long before the media goes public with the discovery of Jap’s body?”

“We managed to hold them off until the eleven o’clock news.” Crutchfield looked at Max. “They understand that they could give the suspects a heads-up and send them into hiding. I have a good rapport with Tracy Morgan down at the paper and the head honchos at the news stations. They’ll keep quiet.” He tossed Darlene his car keys. “Bring it back with a full tank.”

She opened her door. “Hope you slackers have a long, miserable shift. I’m going to find something to waste Max’s hard-earned money on.”

Crutchfield and Thomas climbed into the front seats.

Thomas watched Darlene and Max drive away in Crutchfield’s Caprice. “Max has to be feeding her the worm. I’d like to bang her one good time. I just need three minutes with her. Anybody with that much attitude…I know it’s a good roll in the sack.”

“Miles is gonna get himself hurt, trying to tangle with Squeeze.” Crutchfield gazed at Miles through the binoculars.

“He’s not here to do the Harlem Shake. He’s here with intentions of killing the man.” Thomas shifted in the seat. “Them threats he made that day he was drunk, I suppose you thought he was making a funny.”

“Radio in and have a black-and-white arrest him. I’m sure we can get him with a concealed weapon’s charge.”

A large Voices Books truck carrying bundles of trade paperbacks stalled, blocking Crutchfield and Thomas’s view, steam rising fast from its overheated engine.

Miles was disheveled. His clothes hadn’t been changed in days, and his unkempt cornrows were in desperate need of grooming. He’d lost the will and the desire to keep himself orderly after he’d watched his mother die. He leaned against a wrought-iron fence just outside of the high-rise’s main entrance, caressing the handle of a .380 inside of his windbreaker. Tupac’s “I Came To Bring The Pain” thumped in his ears from the Walkman. The song had been replayed over and over. As Tupac’s hypnotic voice mesmerized him, Miles convinced himself that he was the administrator of pain. A box truck gusting smoke from its engine stole his attention for a moment. It conked out yards away, but that was of no interest to him once Squeeze’s flashy Chrysler drove through the front entrance. He stepped on his skateboard and pushed off. “I came to bring the pain.”

Crutchfield displayed his badge as he fanned the smoke away from his face. “You have to move this thing immediately. You’re obstructing official police business.”

“I suppose you want all hundred-ten pounds of me to push this two-ton truck.” The driver wiped sweat away from his forehead with a sleeve, then put his Voices Books cap back on.

“I don’t care what you do or how you do it; just move it.” Crutchfield smacked the truck’s body.

“I’m already having one hell of a day. I don’t need racial profiling, harassment, or any of that other stuff cops do to hard-working black folks to add to it.” He turned the ignition; the truck fired.

“Back it up.” Crutchfield waved a hand.

The truck rolled back just enough for Crutchfield to see that Miles was gone; then its engine gave out again. Crutchfield looked in both directions.

Nothing.

Within minutes the wind picked up and the sun tucked itself behind a dark congregation of clouds. Miles discarded his skateboard and scurried under an electronic garage door, right before it lowered itself to the pavement. Inside the private parking structure, situated under the high-rise, Miles crept up to the Chrysler—only to find it empty.