Two of Me...

“That boy’s death is on me!” Farrell tossed papers on his desk and flopped in his chair. He rubbed his now crimson forehead as if doing so would relieve his frustration. His anger seemed to raise the temperature in his office. This caused Ross to wipe his brow knowing there wasn’t anything he could say to his partner to change the situation.

“We don’t have any witnesses?”  Ross delicately asked.

“Oh no, we gotta whole funeral home full of witnesses! That’s not the problem! The problem is the witnesses won’t talk!

Farrell wasn’t exaggerating. And yet, they both should have known it came together too fast. In less than two weeks, the detectives had a lead on Anthony Thomas, spooked him upon his arrival from the military to bury his grandmother, and took his statement and confession for the bodies in the waterfront building. Only to have the coroner bag the top of his head separately from his body when taken to the morgue.

Ross came up with a plan.

“So, we gotta get back to basics. Check to see what the lab was able to gather from the crime scene and work from there. We should go to the Martin’s house. Lean on the pastor and his wife a bit. Check out the Watt’s house. Look for clues. It ain’t over yet.”

Those words seemed to calm Farrell a bit.

Or at the very least fuel him. 

****

“Do I have to light a fire under your ass?” The voice on the other end barked. “I’m not sure why you are still in town?!”

Malik Douglas sucked his teeth before barking back, “Because up until this phone call right here, I thought I was ‘sposed to lay low.”

“That’s before they started investigating”, Sticks continued rather nonchalant. Now you have to go.”

“Moms is due any min…”

“Stacey has Dennis, and you have many years to get to know your sibling but you gotta be free, right?”

Malik huffed.

“Exactly. Now go downtown, there’s a locker in my name that has your to-go kit. Further instructions will follow.”

Malik had every intention of following Sticks’ orders, but there were things he wanted to do first.

And he was determined to do them.

****

The phone rang again, and it was growing tiresome. That mood was obvious when the phone was answered.

“What!?” 

It was a growl Sticks was getting used to.

Unfortunately.

“Good to hear your voice too.” Sticks attempted the playful banter.

But Jasmine wasn’t having it.

“You know what Sticks, I would say it was nice to hear your voice too, but I have been hearing it over a dozen times a day every day. It’s almost like you don’t trust me to get shit done. You told me to get it done, but I can’t get it done with you calling. I’m all by myself here, so you have to give me time to get ...things... done.”

“Jazz, baby, that’s about to change. I’m sending you help.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna send me help. You should’ve left Man here like I asked you too. Now, with the house almost all packed up, you’re gonna send him back?!”

“No, there’s been a change of plans. We’re gonna leave about two bedrooms empty.”

“We what? We who? But more importantly, we why?”

“You are gonna have company for a bit.”

With that the cell beeped, and the call disconnected.

****

Out of habit, Farrell parked the car down the street from Pastor and Betty Martin’s home. 

Ross looked at him skeptically.

“Do you think they’re gonna make a run for it?” 

Farrell sighed and flicked off the engine.

“Why you always gotta be an asshole? I don’t want them to see us because then they have time to get their stories straight.”

“The pastor and his wife?” Ross again asked sarcastically.

“The brother of Sticks Martin. The parents of a murder suspect or at the very least a witness. Besides if I am not mistaken, this was your idea.”

The pair walked up the Martin’s walk greeted by the Pastor opening his front door. Upon noticing the detectives stepping onto his porch, he rolled his eyes.

Luke then opened the screen door, broom in hand, stepped out, and began sweeping leaves. 

“Gentlemen.”

He had no desire to make eye contact.

So he didn’t.

Ross spoke first extending his arm to shake hands, “Mr. Martin. My name is…”

“I know who you are, Detective.”

Again no eye contact while he continued sweeping.

Irritated by the lack of respect, Farrell interjected.

“Good, so we’ll get right to the point then, Luke.”

It was at that point that Luke gave his first lethal glare.

“I am a pastor. Show me some respect, Detective.”

“Okay then, Pastor Martin, do you mind…”

“Are you a member of my congregation, Detective?”

Lethal glare number two.

Combined with a dramatic pause sharply ended by Luke still sweeping leaves into a small pile forming in the corner.

“I’m going to assume your silence as a no. In that case you may call me Mr. Martin. To save us all some time, Detectives, I know why you are here:

No Betty and I were not at the church when the shooting occurred.

No, I have not heard anything about who may be involved.

I have not seen my son Rondell since that day.

Nor do I know his whereabouts.

Betty poked her head out of the door and interjected.

“And no one has seen Samuel either.”

Lethal glare number three.

“Don’t you do that, Luke, it’s true. Maybe y’all be better off talkin to the Douglas boy. That’s if he’s still around.”

Lethal glare number four.

Betty grunted in defiance and shut the front door. The clicking of the locks seemed to echo.

Luke angrily tossed his broom onto the wooden floor of the porch.

“Excuse me, Detectives, I now have to walk around my house to the back door to get a bag for these leaves.”

Ross moved aside, but Farrell’s bulbous stature didn’t allow room for Luke to go down the porch steps.

Last lethal glare.

Farrell moved aside.

“Good day, Detectives.”

****

It was unspoken. If family, friends or neighbors came to visit, they entered through the back door. Even if the visit migrated to the front porch, the salutations started in the back. 

Hugs and meals were provided in the kitchen.

And you had to eat.

Or at the very least have something to drink.

With a piece of pound cake.

The family also congregated there. Overflow was in the dining room. And if company came, they sat in the front room.

No one called it the living room.

Cuz the life happened elsewhere in the house.

So, when Malik came in and found the kitchen empty, he stopped and listened.

The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

It seemed so loud.

Just then his cell vibrated.

That also seemed to echo.

It was a text from Dennis.

If you get this, your Mama is in labor.

Malik sighed and rushed back out the door and headed to the downtown hospital. He had already texted Dennis back and told him to meet him outside, and he hoped he didn’t have to wait very long. Malik didn’t know how accurate Stick’s information was, but sitting out in the open was not a good idea. He decided to walk down a cement path leading to a bus stop. This way he could blend in.

That’s when he saw Dennis.

Who could not blend in if he wanted.

He was lightly jogging and waving.

Shouting “Aye”.

With a neon- pink, stuffed giraffe tucked under his arm.

Malik couldn’t help but smile.

Apparently he has a little sister.

Shit.

“Leek, you sure made it down here fast,” Dennis said while extending his free arm to shake hands. Malik smiled and took that arm to pull Dennis into a man-hug.

“Congratulations D. How’s Ma?”

Dennis’ head danced back and forth as he and Malik walked up the sidewalk to the hospital entrance.

“Pissed at me.”

Before Malik could wrinkle his face in confusion Dennis went on to explain.

“Stace…your mother, didn’t want any pain medication because of…”

Dennis’ voice trailed off purposely as they were nearing people.

“Yeah I know.” Malik, fully aware of his mother’s former addiction, agreed.

“But she was in so much pain. So I discussed it with the doctor, and finally we all agreed that she should get an epidural.”

They entered the elevator and Malik began to chuckle at the wide-eyed, smiling, neon animal still tucked under Dennis’ arm.

“So, I have a sister, huh?”

Like he forgot his manners, Dennis began stammering, “Oh, oh, shit. My bad Leek, yeah we have a baby girl. Six pounds nineteen inches long. A little beige, but your mother checked the …edges of her ears? Anyway, she said she would brown up. Said you were almost as beige. Now look at chu!”

As they exited the elevator and Malik followed Dennis to his mother’s room, he stopped abruptly.

“D?”

Dennis stopped and whipped his head around confused.

“Yeah Leek, what’s the matter?”

Leek chuckled, “Does the baby have a name?”

“No.” Dennis said matter of fact then smiled confusing Malik.

“No?”

“No. Your mother said she’d wait for you to get here cuz she wanted you to name her.”

Good thing he decided not to listen to Sticks.

Stacey was wide awake and jovial when they walked into the room. She did, however, roll her eyes at Dennis.

“Another one?”

Malik didn’t realize what she was referring to until he glanced at the corner of the room. It looked like a Pepto- Bismol bottle exploded at the zoo. He whipped his head around and raised his brow at Dennis.

Whose only defense was to laugh.

“Aye she’s my first. I’m allowed to get carried away,” he explained as he found a place to prop the animal.

“Where’s the baby?” Malik asked.

Stacey pointed to the tiny plastic basinet. Inside was a tiny bundle swaddled in a pink blanket. With one look at his little sister’s sleeping face, Malik, smiled and named her. 

“Atiya.”

Then he kissed his mother on the cheek and walked out.  He hated to do it this way, but he had no other choice.

He had to do what needed to be done.

With that he headed downtown.