Heat Page 7
So many things whirl through my head. I do not like Craig Kennedy, never have. He has his own code as far as street ethics are concerned. I was warned early in my police career to stay clear of him. That was before he made my life a nightmare whenever he was around.
He wouldn’t take no for an answer. No, I wouldn’t go out with him. No, I wouldn’t let him cop a feel, and no, I wouldn’t fuck him. I refused to date the cops I worked with is what I told him. And especially not married cops like Kennedy. Just no! When I finally threatened to go to a supervisor, he backed off and gave me the stare-down whenever he could. I’d just roll my eyes. I heard rumors from other officers that Kennedy walked a thinner blue line than the rest of us or that he often straddled it. Most of these rumors related to him getting aggressive during arrests. I stayed out of the gossip and away from Kennedy.
There are always two sides to every story and I tend to support my brothers and sisters in blue unless someone proves that I shouldn’t. Even though I don’t like Kennedy, it doesn’t mean I believe Terry. But, it makes me think.
“Lay it out for me.” My words are clipped because I’m still pissed.
Terry offers a slight smile that fades when I give him hard I-might-strangle-you eyes.
“Dixon says he wanted out and was done running drugs for Alonzo. Alonzo told Dixon it wouldn’t fly because Alonzo is no longer the main honcho and Kennedy is.” Terry’s eyes stay glued to mine as he adds, “Dixon left Alonzo refusing to take the drugs with him. Two hours later, Dixon’s picked up with meth in his pocket. He says he used a few days ago but had nothing left and that Kennedy planted the meth on him.” Terry pushes the picture of Dixon back my way. “This kid’s small and wiry, and he’s timid. He said he didn’t resist at all. Said he was walking home from his girlfriend’s apartment and Kennedy pulled up. Kennedy kicked over a few outside solar lights, beat the shit out of him, and arrested Dixon for criminal damage, resisting arrest, and drugs.”
I stare at the picture of Dixon as Terry continues. “I haven’t mentioned this because I know your blood runs blue, but there have been rumors about Kennedy for years. He has backing too. Someone big.” Terry places his hand up, palm toward me when I try to interrupt. “You don’t need to like it, agree with it, or work the case for me. I want you on it because you were an honest cop and if there is something going on, you won’t cover it up.”
He’s right, I won’t. This entire scenario doesn’t make sense, though. “I have trouble believing Dixon’s father is footing the bill. If it were a homicide, I’d understand, but not a felony drug conviction that’ll be reduced and have drug court as a possible option. If Kennedy isn’t hurt from Dixon resisting arrest, that will be plead out too.”
Terry cracks his knuckles. “You’re right. He isn’t footing the entire bill; I’m supplementing your end of it. I know you have trouble believing this, but I have a client or two who are innocent. Kennedy put them behind bars for his own reasons that have nothing to do with the law. He’s a liar and he’s damned good at it. I’ve wanted him for a long time. And if you take this on and it’s me footing the bill, I’m hoping you’ll give me a discount.”
That earns a tight smile. “Not on your measly fucking life.” Terry knows there’s no way I’d take a penny off his bill. I decide to twist his little weasel nose a little. “From what I hear, you may be in the poor house soon anyway, so this may be my shortest case yet.”
Terry’s face turns a delightful shade of burgundy. “Fucking Brenda. She needs to keep her trap shut.”
I smile.
Terry comes off his chair a bit and leans toward me. “Mark my words, Sheila will be my wife shortly and her tantrum will be a thing of the past.”
He’s serious. Sheila must be the woman he…umm…dropped. My stomach feels queasy over the thought of anyone marrying Terry. Yuck. Honeymoon… double yuck.
During the next thirty minutes, Terry outlines everything he’s ever heard about Kennedy and tells me what he wants me to do. Nothing overt, just feeling out my contacts and keeping my ear to the street. Terry knows I collect good street information, but he doesn’t know who gives it to me and he never will.
I leave Terry’s office with a check in hand. It will cover the first week of working this new case. I arrive five minutes late for my meeting with Penny at Starbucks. She’s sitting in the back corner and waves when she sees me. I order a Frappuccino, which is usually outside my meager budget. I splurge because of the check in my wallet, and, if I don’t have coffee, I may hit the closest bar and drink hard liquor until someone sticks me in a cab. Terry and the Kennedy mess is really playing with my mind.
Penny stands when I approach. As always, she kisses my cheek and makes it seem natural. I, on the other hand, have no idea what to do every time she does this.
“You’re a godsend, honey. Harry cried all night. I had to give him painkillers and alcohol to calm him down. He was too afraid to go to the doctor and worried the goons who attacked him would come to the house and find him. As soon as the pills and booze did their job, I told him I was leaving and taking my fair share for the eight years of hell he put me through. He was fairly out of it by then, but he did mention during his foul rambling that you’re a bitch and he’s coming after us both.”
This thankfully has my new case fading into the background. “Why did you even stay the night? You should have let him suffer.”
Penny’s smile only grows. “You’re right, but for some reason, seeing his five broken fingers made me feel magnanimous. I loaded him into my car this morning and dumped him at the hospital. If he wants to talk to me after this, he can go through my attorney.”
Penny’s different than I am. I’d have kicked Harry and then stomped on him while he was down. “So what did he tell you about his, umm, accident?”
“Between crying, he said he was mugged in the underground garage after you took the pictures. He cried that you did nothing to stop the attack.”
“Did he offer an explanation for the prostitute hanging off his dick?”
She sweeps her styled blonde hair behind her shoulder. Penny is beautiful and always perfectly attired. She’s a trophy wife, and I make no judgments. Even though she married for money, no one should be stuck with Harry Dandridge for eight years.
“He told me he had a lapse in judgment. Of course, he was sniveling so much I had trouble understanding most of what he said.” She rolls her eyes.
I hand over the thumb drive. “Be sure to stay safe,” I tell her. She offers my check. I take it without glancing at the payment amount. “I hope you find someone who treats you like you deserve.”
“Oh, honey, I don’t plan on having a man in my life for a long time. Harry’s money will keep me square for years. I want a home on the beach somewhere and out of this infernal heat.”
“Go for it,” I say as we both stand up. Another cheek kiss later and I’m walking back to Sally. I turn her on to get the air flowing. It’s wonderful to actually have cold air, but I refuse to thank Moon for the luxury. I glance at Penny’s check before placing it in my wallet. She added a $1,000 tip. I haven’t been this flush… well ever. Most of my jobs come from referrals, and I have a feeling Penny won’t mind giving out my name.
I head to the bank and deposit both checks using the drive-thru. It’s been a profitable and eventful day. I’ll work out before heading out for the evening.
I don’t plan to be home for Moon’s seven o’clock pickup. He’s off limits for me, and even though I feel that bad boy pull, it’s not enough to change my mind.
Chapter Eight