Black Lace Page 18

  Lacy whispered back, “I don’t think so.”

  Wanda looked disappointed. “I was hoping you had the scuz.”

  Lacy smiled, “No scuz, no 411, no nothing.”

  “Oh well.”

  “But I did have a man call and threaten me this afternoon, so could you tell the guards on the gate to be careful about letting strangers into the complex?”

  “What happened?”

  Lacy explained the call and why the person had threatened her.

  Wanda shook her head. “Folks are crazy. Just because you came up with a cleanup plan—that I like, by the way—somebody wants you to step back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Talk about shooting the messenger. Well, don’t worry. I’ll let the guards know.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wanda walked on, then called back, “If you need anything, just holla.”

  “Will do,” Lacy replied.

  After getting off the elevator, Lacy let herself into her apartment and felt the space embrace her like a sanctuary. She’d just dumped her briefcase and keys on the couch when her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and snapped it to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Heard you talked to the police.”

  It was him. Terror raced through her like wildfire.

  “Not a good idea, Lacy. This was supposed to be just between you and me. You talk to the law again and I might have to come see you in person.”

  Thirteen

  There wasn’t really much Detective Franks and his partners could do except take down Lacy’s statement and add it to the one he’d taken earlier at her job. Her cell phone’s ID had registered the caller as unknown. When Franks contacted Lacy’s phone provider, he was told the call in question had come through on a phone card used at a pay phone on the west side of the city. Franks dispatched a couple of uniforms to the location to canvas the area for clues but he didn’t hold much hope that any would be found.

  Wanda had come to sit with Lacy. When Ida’s cousin Remmie saw all the policemen in the hallway, she’d come over too. Unlike her short and stout cousin, Remmie was a slightly built bird of a woman with flaming red hair and way too much makeup.

  Lacy was glad she was there though. Cousin Remmie might not be able to keep a secret, but the arm she had around Lacy’s shoulders radiated strength.

  Franks finished up his preliminary report, then put his notebook back into his pocket. “Wish we could be of more help.”

  “You getting here so quickly helped a whole lot.” Lacy walked him to door. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’m just sorry that there’s no quick way to stop this.”

  “What do I need to do to get a permit to carry a concealed weapon?” Lacy asked.

  On the couch, Remmie pumped a thin fist. “You go, girl.”

  Wanda smiled.

  Franks replied, “Do you know how to use a firearm?”

  Lacy told him about hunting with her father. “I haven’t picked up a gun in fifteen years, though.”

  “I know I’m not supposed to say this, but if you were a female in my family or at my church, I’d say getting a piece might be a good idea, especially if you know how to use one.” He took out his notebook and wrote something down. He tore off the sheet and handed it to her. “Those are the names of some local firing ranges you can go to and get the rust off your skills.” He then told her what she needed to know about the paperwork involved with obtaining a permit. “The permit has a forty-five-day waiting period, but under extenuating circumstances you can get a temporary cert right away. This is one of those extenuating circumstances.”

  Lacy agreed. “Thanks again.”

  “You might want to consider having a friend stay with you, or you stay with them until this is done, but we’ll catch him. Don’t worry.”

  On that hopeful note, the policemen left and Lacy closed the door. Remmie and Wanda both volunteered to stay the night, but she graciously turned them down. “I should be okay. I won’t be answering the door or any calls from anyone coming through as unknown. I just want to chill and fall out.”

  “You sure?” Remmie asked.

  Lacy nodded.

  Wanda looked doubtful but didn’t argue.

  “If I need you, you’ll hear me screaming. Don’t worry.”

  The women gave her a hug, then left her alone.

  The first thing she did was go through the apartment and throw the locks on all of her windows. Satisfied, she headed to the kitchen. Even though she was too wound up to eat, she was hungry, but in the end she closed the fridge and went to the living room and sat in the yellow chair. The man’s words kept playing in her mind over and over again like a song she couldn’t get out of her head. In an effort to distract herself, she turned on the TV, but after a few minutes she knew it wasn’t working. She picked up the remote and turned it off. There were no two ways about it, the man had scared her to death. How he’d gotten her cell number was a question neither the police nor her phone company could answer. Did he know where she lived? He’d given every indication that he did. Lord. Rather than go running to hide beneath the bedcovers, Lacy did what every girl does when they’re scared and in need of comfort. She picked up her phone and called her mama.

  Her mother answered on the third ring, “Hey baby. How are you?”

  “Terrible.”

  Once Lacy finished telling the story, Val was outraged. “I have friends in the Fruit. Arrangements can be made to a have a team there first thing in the morning. Does this man know I will hunt him down if anything happens to my only child!”

  Lacy would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. It didn’t surprise her that her mother had contacts with the Fruit of Islam. The Fruit was the security wing of the Black Muslims and sometimes offered their protective services to Black celebrities, and common folks as well. The bow-tie-wearing brothers of the Fruit had a reputation for being both fearless and efficient. Lacy hadn’t been surprised because her mother seemed to know every Black person of importance, no matter the arena. She had close friends in entertainment, sports, and politics. When Lacy was young, it wasn’t uncommon to come home and find the great artist Romare Bearden at the dinner table, or see Jesse Jackson and Julian Bond at one of her mother’s famous barbecues. To this day Val swore that the only reason Wilton had married Lacy was to have access to the movers and shakers of Black America.

  Val asked, “So do you want me to make the call?”

  Lacy didn’t know. “Let me see how I feel in the morning. Right now the adrenaline is pumping so tough I can’t even think.”

  “You have a right to be upset, darling.”

  They spent the next thirty minutes talking about the threat, and soon Val had Lacy laughing over some of the silly things Val had seen or heard while in Europe.

  Lacy said, “And I got your card, crazy woman.”

  Val laughed.

  “Are you still in Amsterdam?”

  “Yep, and I thought I’d be here until the end of the month, but I think I’m going to head down to Madrid and check out some of the markets. This is strictly an inspiration-gathering trip.”

  At the end of the call, Val said, “Make sure you call me tomorrow, so I’ll know that you’re okay and you can give me your decision about the Fruit.”

  “I will.”

  “Feeling better after talking to your mama?”

  “Much. Thank you.”

  “It’s what mamas are for. Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’m sending you much much love.”

  “I’m sending you love too. Thanks, Ma.”

  “’Bye, sweetie.”

  As Lacy hung up she did feel much better. Smiling, she went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

  Seated at her desk in her office the next morning, Lacy read the preliminary reports from the HazMat scientists on the first set of barrels. The chemicals found inside were handled by only three disposal firms in the state. Two of the companies were up north in Saginaw and Midland. The other
was Parker Environmental. She went out to Janika’s desk. “I need everything you can find on Councilman Parker and his company, Parker Environmental. His is one of the companies licensed for the disposal of the stuff in the barrels.”

  “Oh, really. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Oh, and do the same for our friend Lenny Durant.”

  Lacy went back to her desk, picked up the phone and called the city’s legal offices. When she got one of the city’s lawyers on the line, she explained the preliminary report to the female legal beagle, then asked what kind of evidence the city would need to nail the dumpers.

  “We need concrete proof tying the barrels to a specific company. Until we get that, we can’t take anyone to court.”

  “Thanks.” Lacy hung up and called the HazMat folks back.

  In answer to her question as to how long it would be before they could nail down the source of the barrels, the man on the phone replied, “Six to eight weeks, if at all. Pray that all three companies didn’t get their barrels from the same company, otherwise we may never know.”

  Lacy found that less than encouraging. “Six to eight weeks?”

  “Hey. The EPA is understaffed and overworked just like everybody else in the government. They’ll get the results to us as soon as they can.”

  She thanked him and ended the call.

  After lunch, Janika brought in the information on Parker and Durant. Lacy looked through the Parker stuff first. She read about the lotto ticket that began his career, the myriad businesses he owned, and the local charities he supported. She scanned a six-year-old newspaper report on the death of Parker’s first wife. The police called her drowning on Belle Isle suspicious. According to sources, Parker had been a person of interest in the case, but due to a lack of evidence, no charges were filed. Lacy didn’t like that part. The rest of the material was mundane; an article on him being named Man of the Year for his work with felons, another about him touring some of the local schools to speak on recycling. Lacy wondered if that had been his cover for scoping out places to dump his poisons.

  She took that back. She wasn’t being fair to the man; she couldn’t stand him, but there was no proof tying him to the dumping. Rumors weren’t going to solve this, facts were.

  With that in mind, she picked up what Janika had turned up on Lenny Durant. He was thirty. Graduated from one of the local high schools. Served in the army. Sharpshooter. That got her attention. Given an honorable discharge. Formed BAD three years ago. Members arrested twice for assault—once on a man from Troy found dumping tires, and the other for a fight with police officers at a demonstration outside the Fermi nuclear power plant down in Monroe. Then she came across the incident Ida had mentioned. BAD’s computer geeks had hacked their way into the EPA computers. One of hackers was now serving a three year prison term.

  She shook her head and tossed the pages on her desk. She didn’t know any more now than when she came to work this morning. The only thing she knew for sure was that someone was using the city as their own private landfill and that someone else, or maybe the same individual, was trying to scare her to death, and doing a pretty good job. She’d called her mother earlier that morning and told her to hold off on contacting Minister Farrakhan’s people. She wanted to give the Detroit police a chance to solve the case before calling in the cavalry. If this dragged on, she’d let her mother get involved.

  So far, the day had been a quiet one. The only thing that would make it better would be seeing or talking to Drake, but he hadn’t called, and she knew he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

  Just before lunch Rhonda Curry called down and asked Lacy if she would come up to the mayor’s office for a moment to discuss an aspect of the blight proposal that needed clarification.

  “Be right up,” Lacy told her.

  Because of the threatening phone calls, Ida wouldn’t let her even go to the restroom without checking in first, so she told Ida about Rhonda’s call before heading up to see what Drake’s assistant wanted help with.

  When Lacy walked into the mayor’s office, Rhonda said, “This way please, Ms. Green.”

  Lacy followed her into Drake’s office, and Rhonda closed the door. “Mayor Randolph is on the phone. Line one. Take as much time as you need.”

  Rhonda left, softly closing the door behind her.

  A confused but elated Lacy picked up the receiver and punched the blinking red button labeled LINE ONE on the console. “Drake?”

  “Lacy. Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was clear.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I heard about the calls.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, from my bodyguard Simon Lane. He heard about it at headquarters and called me.”

  “Man scared me to death. The police have no idea how he got my cell number or who he is.” Wishing he was there with her, she asked, “How are the meetings going?”

  “No idea. I’m on my way home.”

  That surprised her. “But I thought you were supposed to be there until Thursday?”

  “I am, but I’m coming home. You’re way more important than a discussion on the algae content of Lake Erie.”

  “Awww.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll be there in under an hour.”

  “Can we have dinner tonight?”

  “Dessert too.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

  “In fact, I’m making an executive decision. I want you to go home and pack enough clothes for four days. When I get there, we’re going to take off. I’ll have you back by Sunday afternoon. How’s that sound?”

  “The old Lacy would have said, ‘Can’t go, I have work to do.’ But the new and improved Lacy said, ‘Sounds wonderful.’”

  “Good. See you in a minute.”

  Lacy walked out of Drake’s office feeling as if she were floating on air.

  Rhonda looked up from her desk and asked with a smile, “You okay?”

  “I am now. Thanks, Ms. Curry.”

  “Call me Rhonda.”

  “Call me Lacy.”

  “Will do.”

  Lacy floated back downstairs

  Both Ida and Janika thought Drake’s plan was an excellent one and promised to keep the getaway a secret.

  Ida said, “Just don’t tell Remmie.”

  Lacy grinned and went to her office so she could grab her purse and keys and leave. Once she was ready, she told Janika and Ida, “I’ll see you all on Monday.”

  “Have a good time,” Ida told her.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Lacy said meaningfully. “If it gets too good, I may not come back.” With a laugh and wave she was off.

  When Drake ended the call to Lacy, his brother Myk looked over from his seat across the plane’s aisle and asked, “Better now?”

  “Yeah.” Talking to Lacy had calmed him immensely. Hearing from Simon that she’d received threatening calls not once but twice yesterday, he had been ready to walk from Cleveland if he’d had to. Instead, he was on his way home courtesy of Myk and the Chandler Works private jet, Dragon One. Myk and his pilot had flown in to pick him up this morning. Because the flight was less than thirty minutes, Drake knew it wouldn’t be long before he could see for himself how his lady was doing. When the police tracked down the man responsible, he planned to feed his balls to the crocs at the zoo. According to Simon’s detective friend, Franks, Lacy had held up well, considering the circumstances. She’d been frightened but kept her head enough to call for backup in spite of being warned to stay away from the police by the caller.

  Myk asked, “She’s doing okay, I take it?”

  “Yeah. The detectives talked to Parker about the calls. Apparently he was in her office throwing his weight around yesterday too. When are we going to move on him?” Drake asked.

  “All indications point to soon, but officially the police will go in looking for clues on Wheeler. We’re still holding the truck driver with the pot. So far he’s not giving up any info on hi
s boss.”

  “How long do you think the search’ll take?”

  Myk took a swallow from the glass of ice water in his hand. “Don’t know. All three of his landfills are acres across, and almost as tall. With one dog per site, we may be out there for months and still not find anything.”

  “What about Wheeler’s wife? Still nothing?”

  “Nothing. She’s still claiming ignorance, and doing a pretty good job of it. Passed a polygraph. She doesn’t know anything about the hidden money, or if he’s alive or dead.”

  “After all this, I still vote for dead.”

  “Me, too.

  “So, our friends are looking at Parker as suspect numero uno?”

  Myk nodded. “If Wheeler had embezzled that kind of money from me, I’d have fed him into a compactor too.”

  Drake took a swallow of his own water. “Now now, brother. We’re supposed to be the good guys. When are the dogs going in?”

  “Bright and early Saturday morning. Let’s hope the snow is through.”

  Drake raised his glass in toast. “Amen to that.” Like every other resident of the state, he was ready for winter to be gone for good. “You know Lacy could be the woman I marry.”

  “Could?”

  “Yeah. No guarantee she’ll say yes.”

  Myk sat back in his seat. “You know, there are men who marry meek quiet women and spend the rest of their married lives in peace, but we—meaning you, Saint, and me—find these fireballs who singe off our eyebrows half the time.”

  Drake laughed. “I like the analogy, especially from a man whose stove had to take out a PPO on him.”

  Myk, known for not being able to cook an egg, took mock offense and threw a pillow at him. Drake ducked and spilled water all over his shirt and brown suit coat. “Aw man!”

  Drake grabbed a napkin and blotted himself while his older brother looked on, laughing. In their younger days this would have turned into a playful, rolling all over the floor wrestling match, but they’d gotten too old to wrestle each other, especially on planes. “I owe you one.”

  “You deserved it for that crack. Especially since you can’t boil water your damn self.”