Split Black /#Wattys 2021

Chapter Twenty-two

Try as he might, John could not make himself pick up the phone the next morning and dial any number starting with 757. He knew his mother had gotten fired, he knew she was probably panicking at the loss of her second job and the complete loss of her income. He knew she was worried—as she should be—about paying the mortgage, affording food, and keeping the lights on. But, goddamn it, he just didn't want to hear it.

Hadn't he just intervened with Hampton PD? Didn't she learn anything?

He couldn't turn his cell phone off because of work, but Ma, living in the dark ages as she did, didn't know he had it. He'd felt guilty not telling her, but after she'd rung the phone off the hook at home after several arguments with her sister, he knew he couldn't have her doing that while he was on the job. He left the house early, and breakfasted at Lamplighter's. He and Lizzie did some bike riding around Byrd Park. She was not going to screw up his day off.

John forgot to set his alarm that night and missed roll call, or, as Arlene preferred, "Morning Meeting." Calling Ma would have to wait until later. The prospect of it followed him all the way up the stairs to the squad like a black cat about to dart right in front of him.

He pushed the door to the squad room and stopped. Mike was on the telephone.

"...that website," he was saying. "I appreciate your cooperation. The Fortress...the message board on...Teahouse, that's the one. The person listed as the owner."

John stepped in the door and slow-footed toward the coffee table, watching Mike write on his notepad. "Marion...Jasper...Smilley," he said. "Spell Smilley? Okay, and that's Marion with an 'o'? Oh, Marian with an 'a.' Kind of like Robin Hood. You got an address on this Marian?" Mike scribbled some more. "Thank you very much for your help, Ms. Williams," he said.

John was standing beside him waiting when he hung up. "Mike. Come out with me for a cup of coffee, or for some lunch later. It's about that case." He glanced at the closed door of Arlene's office. "I know you're pissed, but I can't take no for an answer. I've got to talk to you, and I've got to do it out of the office."

                                                                                                ***

They sat in the corner at the closest McDonald's on Broad Street over coffee and Egg McMuffin. "You've got some nerve telling me you did all this." Mike froze with his paper cup of coffee almost at his lips. "I could tell Arlene, after the shit you just pulled on me." His sandy brows met in a V over his nose, but his face wasn't red, a dead giveaway that he wasn't really considering it.

"Yeah, you could. But you won't." John leaned forward and whispered. "This is the guy that killed Pride, I know it. You're pissed at me, but you're gonna help me anyway. We've gotta find a legal way to get this guy."

Mike held the fake glower a second longer, then snorted a guffaw that sent droplets of coffee flying across the table to seep into John's tie. He took a tiny sip and blew the coffee to cool it. "Jesus fuck, Johnny. I can't believe you broke into the place twice. Thank God you're not allergic to cats."

John allowed himself a small smile.

"I'm all in. We get the guy that got Pride, and we're gonna get the guy that tried to get you. Right before that night at Siné—where did you go? Who were you talking to?"

"I thought about that. The guy knew who Clay was, maybe he tipped him off. Maybe that was why I got shot." And then he told him the rest of it. The pictures, the blackmail photos. Pride buying the pills.