Chapter 29
The Man above makes it clear I'm not in his good graces when I wake up to a squad car parked outside the house. I can only think of one person that was stupid enough to show up here in a police car as if the people in this house haven't been through enough. What do you know? That person is none other than FBI Agent Gutierrez.
I pull the front door open, staring out at the unmistakable, black police car parked against the curb. I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe watching as Detective Moore and her sidekick exit the car.
"Candyce?"
I turn back into the house to see Mama walking towards me with her robe on.
"What's going on?" She says, stepping into the doorway.
Together, we look back at Agent Gutierrez and Detective Moore approaching the walkway. Before I can assure Mama that everything is okay, Gutierrez makes the mistake of opening her mouth.
"Mrs. Ortiz. It's nice to see you again," She says.
Mama's concerned look turns into a full-on scowl as she glares at Gutierrez. I also notice how she steps in front of me.
"What the hell you want?" Mama asks.
Gutierrez and Moore share a knowing look before Moore steps up with her hand extended.
"Mrs. Ortiz? Nice to meet you. I'm Detective Moore. I'm the lead detective on the murder that happened at your daughter's nightclub," Moore says.
Mama stares at her like she's suddenly grown two heads.
"What the hell you talking about? What club?"
Now is where I intervene before this little misunderstanding ends with Mama being dragged out in handcuffs.
I gently unravel Mama's clenched fist from where I'm standing behind her. She must have forgotten I was behind her 'cause she turns around with way too much aggression. Her eyebrows drag her wrinkles out of hiding as she stares at me.
"Candyce," Her voice dramatically drops two or three notches, "What the fuck these people talking about?"
"I'll explain it to you later, Ma," I say.
I try to move around her but she grabs my forearm with a death grip. Then she slams the door in their faces, pulling me into the foyer by my arm.
"You ain't going nowhere with them until you tell me what's going on," She says.
"Ma, it's a lot you don't know about. I don't have time to expla--"
I'm cut off by Mama's rough hand slapping me across the face. I stand there cupping my cheek trying to figure out what just happened. I look at her with her rattled pink robe that's come undone and her bedridden hair. But her eyes is what gets to me. Her eyes are hard. Completely unapologetic towards the fact that she just hit me for the first time in a long time and for the first time in my face. But her eyes are watery too. Understanding what she's going through is the only thing that lets me look past her hitting me.
She just lost Jonah to the woman standing outside. The same woman who was now asking me to come with them. Mama knew the type of shit Ace was into but she never bothered herself with the details. Because of her passiveness, she was blindsided with the raid that ultimately got Jonah killed. She doesn't wanna bury another child; I get it.
But damn, did she really have to slap me in my face to prove it?
"Now, you listen to me, lil' girl. I let you, Simon and Ace parade around here doing whatever the hell y'all want without so much as a word from me. I know I haven't been there for you when it really counts but I'm still yo mama. I'm not letting you leave this house with some bitch, who for all I know, might tie you into the shit Ace got goin' on," Mama says.
I sigh. Now isn't the time to roll out an all-access pass into my life. Not when there are two cops at the door who can most likely hear everything we're saying.
"This isn't about Ace," I say.
"Since when is it not?!" She yells.
"'Since one of my employees got killed at my club. They mentioned before that there was gonna be some follow-up questions. This must be it."
"What kind of employees, Simone?" She asks.
I let out a frustrated sigh. She only ever called me by my middle name when she had it up to here with me but I don't understand what the hell I'm doing that's so wrong.
"It's not like you think. It's a legitimate club called The Penthouse. Caesar helped me with the start-up costs," I say.
"You and Caesar, huh? I thought y'all were done."
"We is, Mama," I groan.
Two knocks from the front door steals our attention. It's Moore again.
"Mrs. Ortiz, we didn't mean to upset you or your daughter. We're not here to make any arrests. We just have some questions for Candyce," She says through the door.
Mama forcefully grabs me by the chin, making me look at her. It takes everything in me not to yank out of her hold.
"So what is this? You and Caesar boutta be on the run too?" She asks.
"Mama..." I groan.
I really don't have time to be dragging all this old shit back up. I don't feel like playing catch-up with the last six months of my life, especially not when she's demanding it from me like I'm some 16-year-old kid again. The time for her to be all in my mix was two years ago, before I started stripping. I love her but now's a little too late to play Mommie Dearest.
I step back, making her release her hold on my chin. She drops her hands and then rests them on her hips.
"Candyce, I need to know what's going on right now. Do you need a lawyer?" She asks.
I don't respond since she's doing the most. From slapping me in my face to getting frantic over standard questions? I roll my eyes, continuing to ignore her until she finally calms down.
"I think after all the shit y'all put me through I should at least know if you gonna come back home to me. Don't just leave like Ace did," Mama says.
Her voice cracks in the process. I know she's more scared for me than anything but she's got no reason to be. There's no way I'm going out without dragging that Fed Bitch down with me. She got it coming to her anyway. If not from me, than somebody else. Regardless, it's Sunday and although I hate the bitch's guts, I doubt either of us would wanna catch a body on The Lord's Day of all days.
"I'll tell you everything when I get home," I say.
I take the risk of getting slapped again by stepping closer to her. When her hand doesn't reach up to connect to my face, I wrap my arms around her neck, burying my face into her shoulder.
"I'm coming back, Mama. I promise," I mutter into her robe.
She sighs before hugging me back. Another round of knocks on the door pulls us apart.
"Try not to worry. I love you, Ma. I'll see you later," I say with my hands on her shoulders.
She pats the back of my hand without being able to look up at me.
"I know, baby. I love you too," She says to the floor.
I kiss her on the cheek. I can feel Moore's patience dwindling with each set of knocks. I know the next step would be banging on the door and I don't wanna' scare Paryis awake, who's probably sleeping in Mama's room as we speak. I walk back to the door and pull it open. The irritated look on Moore's face along with the smug smile on Gutierrez's, lets me know this questioning is about to go a lot differently than I had in mind.
"We just wanna' ask you a few questions. That's all this is. I promise," Moore assures.
I scoff and glance at Gutierrez.
"No it's not otherwise you wouldn't have brought her with you. Let's just get this shit over with," I say.
I lead us down the walkway. I want this shit to be over and done with so that one of us can keep our promise.
...
At the police station, Moore opens the door to a small room covered in beige walls. There's a table set up in the middle with fold-up metal chairs on either side. The only thing that keeps it from being like the interrogation rooms I see on TV is it doesn't have a two-sided mirror. In fact, there's only a wide window looking out over the rest of the police station.
"Go ahead," Moore encourages.
I hesitantly step inside the room and sit in one of the beige chairs. I curse myself as a shiver runs up my legs. I was so eager to see why the fuck they were camped outside the house, that I didn't have time to dress for the weather. I abandoned the knit sweater and wheat Timberland heels I set aside for today and settled for grey tights and a white cami instead. I threw a light denim jean jacket on top and slipped my feet into the closest shoes which happened to be slip-on checkered Vans.
Needless to say, the AC in this little room and the coldness from the metal chair is eating through the thin layer of fabric I have on.
Gutierrez was a few steps behind Moore and I, but she now walks into the room, closing the door behind her. Moore takes the seat across from me while Gutierrez pulls the blinds closed on the window to the rest of the station.
While Gutierrez settles into a comfortable position leaning against the wall, Moore dives in.
She starts by folding her hands over the manila folder she brought in.
"Okay, Candyce before we begin asking you some questions, I want to make it clear that this isn't an interrogation which means you're free to leave at any time," Moore says.
I glance at the door, ready to take her up on that offer. She follows my gaze before continuing.
"Of course, if you do decide to leave, that will only mean we'll have to do this all over again. I don't think Mama Ortiz would like that would she?" She says.
I roll my eyes.
Moore gives me a thin-lipped smile.
"Okay then. I guess I should apologize for taking so long to get back to you. I thought it would be best to give you some time to cool off while we got the lab results back from the drugs found on Trinity Garnett's body, as well as the coroner's autopsy."
She opens the manila folder next. She takes out pictures that I recognize immediately as The Penthouse. The last one she scoots my way is a picture of Trinity's cold, dead eyes staring up at the camera. I know from memory that her killer was equally as dead--thanks to Reese-- and laid not too far away from her.
I don't know if it's the pictures or the draft that gives me goosebumps. I cross my arms over my chest to keep the chills from running up my arms. I make sure to keep my facial expressions controlled though.
Moore waits for my reaction. When she doesn't get one, she drops her fake smile. She taps a coffin-shaped fingernail on the picture of Trinity.
"I guess you're used to seeing dead bodies, considering you were the one that found your dad's a few years ago," Moore says.
I flick my eyes away from the picture and up to Moore's. Then, I shift my focus to the root of the cancer itself: standing in the corner with an amused smile on her face. Of course she dug into my record. She probably hoped to find something that would help turn me against Ace that night she tried that bullshit arrest. Fortunately, for all the bad shit I've done, my record doesn't extend past a slap on the wrist. Except the day Daddy killed himself of course.
I was the one who made the 911 call. I was the one who had to stay there until police arrived. I'm the one who talked to so many officers that by the end of the night, all of their faces blurred together. I'm sure they have all of that on file.
I look at Moore, who's watching me, waiting intently for a reaction. I smile at her, since she so desperate for one. This only makes her cut the theatrics and get straight to business.
Stupid bitch should've did that from the jump.
"Do you remember what you told the arriving officer at the club?" She asks.
I shrug my shoulders.
"You don't remember?" Moore asks.
"It was two weeks ago. There was a lot going on," I clarify.
Moore nods her head. She scrambles for paperwork underneath the pictures. When she finds what she's looking for, she reads it out to me.
"So you don't remember telling the officer that you sent an employee to check on the girls in VIP and once this girl made it there...wait, what was her name... Maxine, was it? Yeah, there it is. So, Maxine used her keycard to open the door and Trinity fell out, already dead. And the other DOA came out right afterwards shooting into the air and then someone--you don't know who--returned the shots, killing him at point-blank range?" Moore asks, looking up from her paper.
I squint my eyes trying to see if she really thought I was that dumb. I was careful about what I told the cops, including lying that I was in my office when I heard the shots. I told them I ran outside, scared that Max had got hit but didn't get very far. Next thing I knew, the club was empty and Trinity and her supposed killer were dead. Which, isn't that far from the truth.
From what she just read back to me, it sounded like she mixed Max's story with mine thinking I was gonna' slip up and not notice it.
Yeah...no.
"No, that's not what happened," I say.
"But how can you be so sure? You just said it was two weeks ago," Moore says.
"Yeah, but you asked me if I remembered what I told the cops, not if I remembered what happened," I say.
Moore raises her eyebrows. "Aren't the two one in the same?" She asks.
Shit. I've gotta be more careful about what I say and how I say it before I talk myself into a corner.
"Of course they are," I say, "And I'm telling you based on what I remember about that night, I know that can't be what I told the police."
Moore nods her head, sitting up in her seat.
"How 'bout you tell me what you do remember then?" She asks.
"Don't y'all got that written down somewhere? I mean y'all must do since you bringing up shit as old as my daddy's death," I say.
Moore chuckles.
"You know what? You're probably right. I'm sure I have it somewhere over here. But since you're your memory seems to be clearing up, I'm sure you remember me telling you that we had to wait for the lab results to come back to determine cause of death. Well, the results came back and it's clear that Garnett's death was a homicide. But, you knew that already, didn't you?" Moore says.
I shift in my seat, growing more and more agitated by the second.
"How would I know that?" I ask.
"I mean, she worked for you didn't she? The two of you also worked at Pink Fantasy Nightclub together, right?"
"What's your point?" I ask.
"I just figured somebody who's known her as long as you have would know if she was the type of person to snort enough coke to cause a heart attack."
"Yeah well I didn't know her all that well. I mean, yeah, I worked with her and she worked for me but that don't make us friends," I say.
"Right," Moore says, "But about Pink Fantasy. I'm curious. Why did you stop working at the strip club other than being underage of course?"
I smile sarcastically, "You just said it. I was underage."
"Hm. You know I went there looking to gain more information on Trinity and somehow, your name came up," Moore says.
Oh, shit. Tony's murder. Of course my name would come up. Has it really been that long that I forgot?
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat.
"Did it?" I ask.
"Yeah, actually it did. Some of the girls were talking about how your brother, Ace, and his crew got into with one of the bouncers. Apparently, the beating was so brutal he had to go to the hospital. He never made it out," Moore says.
"Have you ever worked in a strip club, Dectective Moore?" I ask.
Moore looks caught off guard. I guess she really thought she rattled me with Big Tony's death. It surprised me, yeah, but I've been sitting with Tony's murder for months now. Just because I don't think of it every hour of every day, doesn't mean one cop poking around is enough to frazzle me.
Moore looks at Gutierrez before turning back to face me.
"No, I haven't," She finally says.
"Good for you. It's crazy the stories those girls would come up with for a little bit of attention. Some free advice? I wouldn't trust none of 'em."
Moore smiles.
"Fortunately for you we don't find the testimonies of women who choose to live that particular lifestyle to be all that credible," She says.
"See? I told you," I say, feeling some of the pressure lift off me.
"That includes you, Candyce," Moore says.
"Oh no, haven't you heard? I don't dance now. I make money moves," I smile at her, "I own a club now. You should drop by to celebrate your investigation being over."
Moore cuts her eyes at me and I do the same. We can go tit-for-tat all day long. After all, being petty is a sport best played with someone else.
"I only have a few more questions and then we can be done," Moore says.
I wait for her to pull more unrelated questions out of her ass.
"Why aren't there any cameras in your club?" She surprises me by asking.
Finally, a question that makes sense. I even prepared for this one. I knew it would come up eventually.
"I was pushing for time trying to open the club and the security company I ordered the cameras from weren't able to install them in time," I say.
It's the truth too. Although I wasn't planning on ever turning the cameras on, I thought they might be a good security measure to have in the club. I figured people were less likley to try something if they knew someone was watching.
"Huh. Well if you were wondering, we have enough statments from your other employees to infer that one of your clubgoers was responsible for the murder of Julio Perez. Of course, it's impossible to tell who without cameras," She says.
I don't give two fucks about Julio Perez.
"At least Trinity's family can sleep at night knowing justice was served," I say.
"Right," She says.
I watch as she compiles all the photos back into a neat stack to place inside the folder.
"Also, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that the investigation is moving away from your club so it should be open to the public within a matter of days. If you feel so strongly about seeking justice for Trinity, maybe you'll honor her by getting those cameras installed."
She rolls her eyes my way and stands up. I point my middle finger when her back is to me. When she walks to the door, I drop my finger, feeling the air rush back into the room. To say I wasn't under arrest, her questions sure felt a lot like being on trial.
"So I can go now?" I ask.
Moore turns around with one hand still on the door handle.
"I told you that you were free to leave at any time. But before you do, Agent Gutierrez has some questions for you."
Then she walks out leaving Gutierrez and I alone. I pay her no mind as I get up to walk away. Fuck her and her questions. Whatever she wanna say, she can say it to my back.
Except, when I go to turn the door handle, it's locked. I try again but to no avail.
"What the fuck?" I ask.
"It's locked from the outside unless you have the key of course," Gutierrez chirps from behind me.
"I thought this wasn't an interrogation."
She leans off the wall, walking to the chair Moore just got out of.
"It isn't," She says, "But I don't have the key and I think Detective Moore stepped out for a coffee. It's a slow drip so it might take awhile."
I almost bang my head against the door. I should've listened to Mama and stayed home. Or at least came back with a fucking lawyer.
I think about my promise to Mama. With me and this bitch locked in a room together? I don't think I'll be able to keep that promise to her. I might just be spending a night or two in a holding cell down the hall.
"Candyce, why don't you have a seat?"
I start to shake my head. I can already feel the anger working it's way through my fingertips. I clench my fist, then quickly unclench them.
You can't hit a FBI agent.
For once, I listen to the little voice in the back of my head. She's right. For all I know, this bitch probably planned for us to be locked in here together, knowing I would lose it. Right now, I have the upper hand. If I swing on her, I lose it. 'Cause without a criminal record weighing me down, there's nothing she can use against me to snitch on Ace. Not that I'd even think about snitching on him, no matter the case. Even still, under the right circumstances, even the strongest of us break.
I take a second to collect myself. I make sure my hands are firm by my sides. My heart rate is still beating a mile a minute but I can't help that. I'm two feet away from the bitch that's partially responsible for killing Jonah and I can't do anything about it. I just gotta keep a cool head long enough to beat her at her own game.
I slowly make my way back to the chair. Soon as I plop down in it, Gutierrez rises and moves her chair to my side of the table. Instead of sitting in it, she sits on the table and plants her feet in the chair. My head doesn't move but I roll my eyes up to face her.
She claps her hands together.
"Let's get one thing straight, Candyce. I don't care if you like me or not. I'm sorry about what happened to Jonah but I won't keep apologizing for it. Things happen. People die, even the most innocent of us..."
I know this bitch ain't serious. Insinuating Jonah's death was anyone's fault but her own? I silently listen to the rest of her speech, hoping Ashton Kutcher will pop from behind the file cabinet and tell me this entire interrogation was a joke.
"...Anyways, I think that's something you should take up with your brother. If Ace hadn't skipped town, we would be halfway through his trial right now and who knows? Maybe little Jonah could be in the courtroom cheering him on," She says.
"You might as well save yourself whatever is left of your lil speech," I say, "You can give up while you at it cause I ain't ever giving up my brother. Even if I knew where he was, I still wouldn't tell you."
She nods her head. I actually think she's cuts her losses with trying to get me to turn on Ace until she starts talking again.
"I figured as much. I can't help wondering if you'd change your mind if you knew Child Protective Services was putting together a case to determine if your half-sister, Paryis Green, was living in a stable enough environment. Personally, I don't think a house filled with an angry, violent brother, a stripper sister and a grieving stepmother is the right kind of role models for a little girl, but that's just me. What do you think?"
My heart starts beating out of my chest. My leg involuntarily shakes under the table and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from pouncing on this bitch.
Paryis? She's really gonna' try to take Paryis away from us? As if she hasn't done enough already.
"There's a special place in hell for bitches like you," I say.
Gutierrez smiles, leaning closer to my ear. Her curls brush the side of my face in the process.
"Maybe I'll see Santana down there," She whispers.
Before I know it, the chair I'm sitting in is scraping across the floor from how fast I stand up. Gutierrez looks intrigued, like she's finally got me where she wants me. Little does she know, I've never been the type to do what's expected of me. Instead of wiping the floor with that mop of curls on her head, I control myself. I step into her personal space. She tries to lean back but I'm in her face, the tips of our noses almost touching as I stare into her eyes.
As if she's called out a distress signal, the door opens.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Moore asks.
I see her standing in the doorway from my peripheral vision. I also see Gutierrez shooing her away with a flick of her hand. So I was right. She may have threatned me with Paryis but this is what she really wanted. She anticipated this: riling me up, having me lose my temper then take it out on her.
Well not today, Satan.
I pronounce each word carefully so she can feel me without me having to put my hands on her.
"I hope Ace never comes home, you bitter bitch. I hope you have no life and no career without him. Better yet, I hope he's out of the country, living his best life while you worry yourself silly trying to find him. I hope you die looking for him bitch. And just so we're clear and you don't ever try to pull this weak ass stunt on me again: you not worth catching a case behind. So keep it up, hoe. You'll never get what you really want and that's Ace in handcuffs."
I shake my head, leaning back.
"You'll just be another stain on the FBI's cum rag after my family is through with your lil' dyke ass," I say.
Her eyes widen a little when I'm done. I'm not sure what part of that got to her until I turn around to see Moore's face. She looks slightly embarrassed and very, very bothered. I knew I picked up on some heavy girl on girl vibes while we were in the club cause of the way Moore shut Gutierrez up with just one look. Riding in the car with them made me feel more like a third wheel than a person being brought in for questioning.
I guess I was right.
I'm brushing past Moore on my way out of the door when Gutierrez finds her voice.
"I'm willing to push for Paryis to stay with the only family she's known since her mother's overdose. What I tell DCFS officials is up to you. Maybe I say you're exactly the kind of role model Paryis needs right now. The kind of role model that does whatever it takes to keep her little sister safe from the dangers of foster care. Or do I tell them you're the kind of person who protects the fugitive brother who left her behind instead?" Gutierrez says.
I don't stick around to answer that. If I stay in this room a second longer, I'm not gonna be able to make good on my promise to Mama.
I knock shoulders with Moore on my way out. She looks me up and down while I do the same. In another setting, I might have called her pretty but her ties to that cold, heartless bitch in there rids her of any beauty she could have possessed.
"I know it's rough out here, but you could do so much better, sis," I say.
I find my way to the front of the station with no problem. I'm so damn heated I almost walk right past Simon sitting on a waiting bench, staring at the floor.
"Simon?" I ask.
His head jerks up to me. He stops shaking his leg and springs from the bench. He stomps right over to me.
"What happened?" He asks.
"Nothing. Why aren't you at the trap?" I whisper.
"Because you were here. Is me meeting them niggas really more important than me checking up on you?" Simon says.
"Okay, nevermind. Just calm down," I say.
I glance around at the audience we've gained. Cops and detectives stare at us and it's not from Simon's big ass mouth, though, that probably didn't help. I knew most of them recognized him from that stunt he pulled a month and a half ago. He knows like I know that he shouldn't be here because nobody should know that he got away with thousands of dollars worth of damage without doing jail time. Simon is oblivious to all the eyes on us though. His entire focus is making sure I'm okay.
"Mama called and told me what happened. She was hysterical. I couldn't make out half the shit she said but I heard her say police station. So I came to see what the fuck happened," Simon says.
My gut tells me not to mention them asking about Ace so I don't. I don't necessarily think Simon would snitch but with the hate he has for Ace all bottled up, who knows what it'll take to pop the cork. Better safe than sorry.
"Nothing, I'm okay. They needed to ask me some questions about the girl who died at my club is all," I say.
Simon's eyes divert over my shoulder.
"If that's all they wanted to know, then what the fuck is she doing here?" He asks.
I turn around and sure enough Gutierrez is walking towards us. I don't know why I hope she'll keep walking since the bitch has shown she has zero ounces of decency.
She stops in front of us. I make sure to keep Simon behind me just like Mama did me an hour ago.
"Simon Cayden Ortiz. It's so nice to meet you without all the chaos around. I'm curious to see what would happen without someone always around to keep you calm," She says.
I feel Simon brace against my back. I grab his arm and it's hot to the touch.
I want to tell him not to play into her hands but that's like telling water not to be wet. Her trickeries may not have worked on me, but take Simon, Jonah's death and sprinkle some of the blame on Ace, and Gutierrez is in for a treat.
"You know, we should have met a lot sooner. I heard about the little incident you had with the squad cars. It's funny how records go missing over here. With no incident report, there was no way to charge you the fine that would equal the damage you did. Though you and I both know someone got paid right? It's just a matter of who," She says.
Then she saunters off towards the main doors like she didn't just ruin a perfectly good day. With Simon breathing heavy next to me, all I can do is pray she dies a slow, excruciating death.
I've never felt more or less like a Christian.