“Who is this guy?” Tamela asked.
“All I know from what Gina DeMarco told me is that he’s a football player,” Tim said.
“Who is Gina DeMarco?”
“She runs this PR firm. A real brassy-type woman. She had called me the other day about having some of the Cougars and Bears do a fund-raiser for the BMU scholarship fund. I understand she used to work with a lot of entertainment types, but now she’s venturing off into professional athletes,” Tim said.
“So I guess this guy is a pro football player?”
“Yeah, she said he played for the Cougars.”
“Did he do it?”
“How am I supposed to know that? Gina said her client, Zurich I think his name was, went out with this young lady before he left for an out-of-town game. When he came back, he called her and some friend of hers accused him of raping this young lady. Later Monday afternoon, the policemen came by Zurich’s apartment to question him, without counsel, and found panties in his dirty clothes hamper,” Tim said.
“That doesn’t sound too good for him, unless he’s into wearing women’s underwear,” Tamela laughed.
“Now come on, Tamela, get serious. You said you wanted the next big case and this looks like it’s going to be very big. The DA’s office has become very aggressive in prosecuting cases of abuse against women. Sometimes I don’t know about my black brothers, seems like they have to take everything these days. Giving us hardworking ones a bad name,” Tim said.
Tamela thought, Was this fool talking about us and when was the last time he had a conversation with one of his black brothers? “Have they arrested him?”
“No, not yet, but the police left a message for him to come down to the station after football practice. Gina and I both agree he shouldn’t go down there alone,” Tim said.
Tamela leaned forward and began to tap her temples in a nervous manner. Was this case something she wanted to be involved in? A rape?
“Is the victim black or white?” she asked.
“What difference does that make?” Tim asked in an annoyed tone.
Please, God, don’t let me have to read this fool. “Tim, wasn’t it just a minute ago when you were talking about all your black brothers? I just wanted to know what type of man and woman we’re dealing with,” Tamela replied. She thought he ought to know the victim’s color would make a hell of a difference.
“Now look, Tamela, I don’t know a lot about either one of them. All I know is here I am trying to give you a possibly high-profile criminal case and you seem to have reservations. I can get someone else. But you can’t say that I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. I keep my promises.”
“No, don’t do that. I can handle this,” Tamela said, getting to her feet. This was the chance she had been waiting for, and she was not about to let it slip away.
Tim gave Tamela a piece of yellow legal paper with the name of Zurich Robinson and those of the police officers handling the case.
“Well, I guess I should thank you, Tim,” Tamela said, trying to appear gracious, even as she was beginning to question having to represent a possible rapist in a case that could bring unwanted attention toward her.
Tamela returned to her office, picked up the receiver of her phone, and held it, staring into space. She was thinking about Caliph. They had enjoyed a wonderful date on Sunday. Caliph and Tamela met after church and enjoyed buttered grits, eggs, and ham at Gladys’s restaurant and then went to see Jason’s Lyric. They ended the early evening walking by Lake Michigan talking about the movie. Tamela loved it, and Caliph thought it was okay, that the violence in the film spoiled, as he said, “What could have been a very romantic movie about a sensitive brother.” They had talked briefly every day and Tamela was trying to figure out whose turn it was to call. She didn’t want to appear too eager. As Desiree often said, “We’re getting too old to be eager.” I should call Desiree, she thought, but realized she didn’t know where she was. Desiree had been laid off from her teaching job and seemed to be taking it in stride. Maybe she should call her mother. She looked at her watch and realized her mother was teaching and that she only had thirty minutes to pick up her car and meet her new client. She put the phone down, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out the door. As she got on the packed elevator, one of her mother’s favorite bits of advice reverberated through her head: “Ain’t nothing to it, but to do it.”
While waiting on hold for his travel agent to calculate costs for a trip to Dallas, Sean picked up the photo of Zurich Robinson. A dancer, he thought. He tried to imagine that same heavily padded body that raced past tacklers leaping across a stage in nothing but a leotard. What a fascinating bit of information this would add to his profile. He had to know if Zurich Robinson was also a dancer, and if so, why no one else knew it. Sean suddenly hung up the phone and called information to request a listing for the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.
“Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater,” a friendly female voice said.
“Hello. I’m a freelance writer working on a piece about one of your former dancers,” Sean said. “Who would I need to talk to?”
“How long ago did this person dance with our company?”
“I’m not certain, but I think the early nineties,” Sean said.
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes, Zurich Robinson.”
“Let me put you on hold for a second.” Sean heard a click and then a Muzak version of Rick James’s “Super Freak.” Sean had started laughing to himself when a male voice came suddenly over the line.
“This is Terry Tyler. How can I help you?”
“Yes, as I was telling the receptionist just a minute ago, my name is Sean Elliott and I’m working on a story about someone who I think used to dance with your company,” he said.
“Yes, the name our receptionist gave was Zurich Robinson. Now I’ve been in our publicity department for over six years and this name doesn’t ring a bell,” Terry said. “Do you know the exact year and if this person was a member of the main company or just a student here?”
“That I’m not certain of. Do you have a listing of your former company members and students?”
“Do you mind my asking who the story is for? Because I know most of the people over at Dance magazine,” Terry said.
“Oh, this isn’t for a dance magazine, it’s for Sports Today,” Sean corrected.
“They’ve finally realized that dancers are athletes too,” Terry laughed.
“Now, I wouldn’t go that far, but I think they would be interested in a former dancer who is now a starting NFL quarterback,” Sean said.
“Wouldn’t we all be,” Terry laughed. Sean could picture him snapping his fingers up in mid-air.
“So can you help me?” Sean asked.
“Well, that name doesn’t ring a bell, but let me do some checking. Robinson is a pretty common name and I should remember a name like that pretty easy. As much as I’d like to think I know everything about the company somebody might have slipped through here. Let me get your name and number, and I’ll do some research,” Terry said. Sean gave him the information and hung up and called his travel agent back. After about ten minutes of going over fares and possible cheap hotels in Dallas, Sean hung up the phone. He’d started to look for his latest Visa statement to see how much he could spend before he reached his limit when the phone rang.
“Hello. This is Sean.”
“Sean, this is Terry Tyler with the Ailey company. We spoke a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, right. That was quick,” Sean said. “What did you find out?”
“We definitely haven’t had a Zurich Robinson here as a student or as a member of the company, but I found something that might interest you,” Terry said.
“I’m listening,” Sean said.
“We had a member of the main company named Zachary Robinson. He was with us from 1988 until late 1991. But I know this couldn’t be the dancer slash quarterback,” Terry said confidently.
“Why?” Sean asked. Maybe Zurich used an alias, he thought.
“Because I knew Zachary Robinson, and Zach has been dead for almost three years,” Terry said.
“How well did you know him?”
“I knew him pretty well. He wasn’t, you know, like one of my running buddies,” Terry said.
“Terry, do you know where he was from?”
“Somewhere down South. Wait a minute,” Terry said. Sean heard the click again and now heard the Muzak version of James Brown’s “Living in America.”
“Sean, he was from Tampa, Florida. Zachary Robinson was from Tampa,” he repeated.
“Thank you. Look, can I ask another favor. You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of Zachary, would you?”
“Sure, but he’s with some other people. I’ll check and see if I have an individual head shot. Give me your address, and I’ll have a messenger deliver it to you.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Terry.”
“Glad to help out. This sounds like something interesting. Keep me posted.”
“Thanks, and I will,” Sean said.
Sean started to fold up several pairs of underwear, a couple of baseball caps, and jeans in preparation for his trip to Dallas when the phone rang again.
“Hey, baby brother. What you doing?” Anja asked.
“Packing,” Sean said.
“Where are you off to now?”
“Dallas.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Well, I hope you’ll be back by Saturday,” Anja said.
“Saturday? What’s happening Saturday?”
“Oh, Sean, please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your promise,” Anja said in an alarmed tone.
“What promise?”
“You promised to take Gerald to register for Pee Wee football up in Mount Vernon. And you told him you were going to take him to a Warrior game. Remember?”
“Oh shit, you’re right, Anja. I’m sorry but it slipped my mind,” Sean said.
“Are you going to tell him or should I?”
“Tell him what?”
“That you can’t make it,” Anja said.
“Oh, I’m going to make it. I promised him so I’ll be there. I might have to change my plans, but I will be there.” Maybe Dallas would have to wait, Sean thought. He didn’t want to disappoint his nephew.
“That makes me feel better, ’cause that’s all he’s been talking about. Every night before bed he’s talking about playing football and going to the game with Uncle Sean,” Anja said.
“Please don’t mention to him that I forgot.”
“Don’t worry I won’t,” Anja said. “Who are the Warriors playing Sunday?”
“Let’s see here,” Sean said as he pulled a NFL composite schedule from his briefcase. “This is great,” he said.
“What’s great?”
“The Warriors are playing that new team from Chicago. The Cougars,” Sean said.
“What’s so special about that?”
“Well, remember I just got through interviewing their quarterback Zurich Robinson. You know, he’s black, and he seemed like a really nice guy. Maybe I can introduce him and maybe take some pictures and have Gerald meet some of the other players,” Sean said.
“Sean, that sounds wonderful. Now I want to go,” Anja teased.
“Naw, this is the boy’s day out and don’t you forget about the rev,” Sean teased back.
“You know I’m just playing,” Anja said as she cleared her throat and then said, “And speaking of the reverend don’t forget that you also promised to come to church next Sunday with Gerald and me. Remember?”
“And why did I agree to that?”
“It’s Youth Day and your nephew is doing the occasion,” Anja said.
“And I can leave after he’s finished, right?” Sean laughed.
“Sean.”
“Anja.”
“Well, we can talk about that later, okay?”
“Deal,” Sean said.
“Okay, I’ll talk with you later.”
“All right, give my little man a hug for me,” Sean said.
“You got it,” Anja said as she hung up the phone.
Sean looked at his half-packed suitcase and at his date book. He had planned to leave Dallas and then travel to the West Coast to interview Vince Evans. But he had made a promise to his nephew. A promise he had no intention of breaking. Besides, he thought as he pulled the suitcase off his desk, it would be nice to see Zurich Robinson and be in the Cougars’ locker room once again.
Tamela met her new client right outside the police station near City Hall. Zurich was standing at the entrance with a large black notebook with Z-man stamped all over it. He had told Tamela, when they spoke briefly on the phone, he would be carrying the notebook so she could identify him. She smiled pleasantly as she approached him saying, “Mr. Robinson? Zurich Robinson … right?” She paused to shake his hand. “I’m Tamela Coleman … It’s nice meeting you. This shouldn’t take that long.” Tamela instantly recognized him as the man in the restaurant. The one Desiree and her crew were in such heat over.
“It’s nice meeting you. Thanks for helping me out on such short notice,” Zurich said as he opened the large metal door and gestured for Tamela to go in first.
Tamela was struck by how tall and handsome he was close up, as she noticed his compelling dark eyes, his large, distinguished, and sexy-looking nose. He was wearing a beige cotton shirt, and his black linen pants hung limp and wrinkled. But Tamela had seen good-looking and well-dressed rapists before, and reminded herself not to be swayed by his appearance. Besides, she thought, Didn’t he know you didn’t wear linen after Labor Day?
Zurich noticed Tamela’s slow smile, almost sly, and he wanted to tell her immediately that he didn’t do it, but decided to wait until he was asked. She reminded him of a young lady who had tutored him in biology during his freshmen year in college. The tutor helped him to earn a B, and Tamela’s resemblance to her made him feel safe immediately.
“Now I don’t know what they are going to ask you, but all I want you to do is to tell the basics, like your name, where you live, you know. When they ask specific questions about your contact with the lady, leave that to me,” Tamela said forcefully. “Do you know the lady in question?”
“Yes,” Zurich said.
“How well?”
“Not that well. I met her when I first came to Chicago and later when she interviewed me,” Zurich said.
“Interviewed you?” Tamela asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Yes. She works for one of the television stations here,” Zurich said.
“She does? Who is it?”
“Mia Miller. Do you know her?”
“Mia Miller. That’s who was attacked? I don’t really know her, but I know who she is,” Tamela said. She wondered if Mia’s status in Chicago would bring a different light to this case. She wanted to ask Zurich if he had raped her, but knew it would be unprofessional.
A few minutes later, two detectives came to the reception area and led Tamela and Zurich down a musty hallway with several doors which had black numbers on them.
“Let’s go in here,” one of the detectives said as he motioned Tamela and Zurich toward an open door. Once inside, he offered them a seat and asked if they wanted coffee or something else to drink. Both Tamela and Zurich responded no.
The interrogation room was small, bright, and unventilated. The tile floor was a dirty yellow, like a smoker’s teeth, and smelled like a much-used dirty mop. There was a gray steel table with a phone and two chairs on both sides. Tamela and Zurich sat on one side, and the two detectives sat opposite them.
“Thank you, Mr. Robinson, for coming down and helping us out with this case. I’m Detective Dodd and this is my partner, Detective Davis,” the shorter of the two white officers said.
“Let me start by stating that I have not talked in detail with my client, so I don’t know how much we can accomplish today,” Tamela said.
“We understand, Ms. Coleman. We just want to ask a few questions,” Detective Dodd said. But before they started to ask questions, both detectives told Zurich how they had read the articles on him and had seen him play against the Bears. Both seemed in awe of him, smiling and not treating him at all like a possible rape suspect, Tamela thought as she watched their interaction. Zurich looked remarkably composed, speaking clearly about his career and looking the detectives directly in the eye.
But Zurich’s insides rocked, partly from anger and from sadness. Angry that he was sitting in a police station with three people he didn’t know, preparing to defend his honor. He had never been in any type of trouble in his life. Sad, too, that Mia would lie about him because he hadn’t accepted her offer.
“Do you mind telling us where you were Friday night and early Saturday morning?” Detective Davis asked. Zurich was preparing to tell him he was out with Mia, when Tamela stopped him by gently touching his thigh and saying to him, “Don’t answer that.” Zurich followed her advice and politely shook his head yes. He liked the way she took control.
“Do you mind telling us why you left a message on Ms. Miller’s answering machine saying you were sorry,” Detective Dodd, the other detective, said.
“Again, I’m going to advise my client not to answer that,” Tamela said as she stood up and looked directly at the officers. “Look, Officers, it doesn’t look like we’re going to get anywhere with these questions. Is my client under arrest?” Tamela said boldly. She wanted to say, Look, you guys need to shit or get off the pot.
“No, Ms. Coleman, we are still investigating,” Detective Davis said.
“Well then, this meeting is over. If you have an arrest warrant, would you please contact me?” Tamela asked as she pulled out a card and placed it on the table. She looked at Zurich, who got up from his seat and started to follow her out of the room, when Detective Davis called out to him as Mr. Robinson. Zurich turned and faced him and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Would you mind signing this for my son? His name is Christopher,” he said as he held out a rolled-up football program and a pen. Zurich looked at Tamela for a brief second, but couldn’t read her face. He gave the officer a half smile and said, “Sure,” as he took the program and pen and wrote To Chris, Always keep your head up! Zurich Robinson #12. Tamela was thinking, Is this guy a rapist or someone created by the Boy Scouts?
“Thank you, Mr. Robinson. Thank you very much,” Detective Davis said as he looked at the autograph like a little kid with a new prized possession. While he was looking at the program, Detective Dodd noticed the scratch on the hand Zurich had used to sign the autograph.
“Did you get those scratches in the game against Atlanta?” he asked. Zurich and Tamela both looked at the scratches and before he could answer Tamela glared at him and said, “Don’t answer that,” as she pulled his hand out of the officer’s view.
Once they were outside, standing near the public parking area, Zurich looked at Tamela and said, “This is not going to be the end of this, is it?”
“I doubt it. I have to look over the information they have, including this answering machine message. Did you call her?” Tamela asked.
“Yes, but it’s not what you think,” Zurich said.
“Let’s talk about this when we get together at my office. What is your schedule like?”
“I can make time for this. All I have is practice. We have a game in New Jersey this weekend. If they arrest me, will I be able to make that game?”
“Depending on the charges, if there are any, then we will need to arrange bail,” Tamela said.
“Should I tell my coaches what’s going on?”
“Do you trust them?”
“I guess,” Zurich said.
“That’s completely up to you. But I think we should see what we’re up against first. I’m going to get a police report when I get back to the office. I will look it over and then we should meet as soon as possible,” Tamela said.
“That’s fine. When are we talking about? Later tonight or tomorrow?”
“Well, give me a chance to look the info over. Let’s set up a meeting for Thursday afternoon,” Tamela said.
“Can we do it after practice?”
“Mr. Robinson, you do realize that this is a very serious matter and I’m going to need your help if I am to defend you,” Tamela said sternly. Didn’t he realize how serious this was? she wondered.
“I know that. But I have to make practice or else I won’t have the money to pay you,” Zurich said.
“What time is your practice over?”
“Usually around three, depending on how much game film we have to go over,” Zurich said.
“Yes, that should be fine. That will give me more time. Here is my card with the address of my firm,” Tamela said. Zurich looked at the card she handed him and said, “Your office is on the same street as Gina’s office. I shouldn’t have any problem finding it.”
“Good. But if you do, just call this number,” Tamela said as she took the card and underlined the main office number.
“I need to ask you a question,” Tamela said as she looked him straight in his eyes.
“Yes, Ms. Coleman.”
“How did you get those scratches?” Tamela narrowed her eyes, stressing the importance of her question. Zurich felt her eyes were accusatory as if she already had made up her mind. He felt a rush of anger, but he remained cool.
“Mia scratched me. I can explain it to you now or later.”
“We can talk about it when you come to my office,” Tamela said.
“Ms. Coleman,” Zurich said mournfully.
“Yes, Mr. Robinson,” Tamela said as she looked up at him. She wanted to tell him he should save the sad-puppy-dog look for a jury if he were indicted.
“I didn’t do it. I promise you,” he said. Tamela continued to look at Zurich without responding. She had always prided herself on her ability to tell when someone was lying, but at this moment, with Zurich, she couldn’t tell.
“We’ll talk Thursday, Mr. Robinson. Try and enjoy the rest of your day.”
Later Tuesday evening, Sean’s buzzer sounded and he went downstairs to see one of New York’s finest standing at the entrance door. A spandex-clad messenger with dreads.
“Yo, Gee. Are you Sean Elliott?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Sean replied.
“Got a package for you. Sign this,” he said as he gave Sean a clipboard and pen. Once Sean signed, the messenger handed him a manila envelope from the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.
Sean couldn’t wait until he got back to his apartment before he ripped it open. There it was, a picture of Zurich wearing a form-fitting dancer’s body suit and a smile. But Sean looked closer and he could see that the smile, though bright as headlights, was not the smile he had seen in Chicago. The man in the picture, though a mirror image, was not Zurich Robinson. But who was he? Sean wondered. When suddenly, the answer was clear. Twins. Zurich Robinson had a twin.
“Come in,” Tamela said when she heard a knock at her office door late Wednesday. She assumed it was her secretary, Christina Martin, but to her surprise, in walked Warner Mitchell, a Yale Law School–trained second-year associate with a copy of the Chicago Sun-Times evening edition.
“Hello, Warner. What can I do for you?”
“You’re handling the Robinson case, aren’t you?”
Tamela wondered how Warner knew which cases she was handling but she said, “Yes.” She wanted to say in her best bump fish tough-girl tone, Yeah, what about it?
“Have you seen this?” he said as he laid the newspaper on her desk, opened to page one of the sports section. Tamela leaned her face forward to read the article Warner had circled in a red Magic Marker. Chicago police questioned pro football quarterback Zurich Robinson Tuesday about a September 8 rape of a 32-year-old Chicago woman. Robinson, a quarterback with the NFL expansion team the Chicago Cougars, was questioned at police headquarters for two hours before being released, said Chicago police spokeswoman Melanie Carrigan. No charges have been filed and the case is still under investigation, Carrigan said.
“I can’t believe this,” Tamela said. “We weren’t even there an hour.”
“So they got it wrong. But you know there will be more articles,” Warner said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Tamela said.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Warner asked.
“What?”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Warner repeated.
“No, I can handle this, but thanks for asking,” Tamela said, wondering about his interest in her case and knowing that she needed more time to prepare for her Thursday meeting with Zurich.
“Well, I’m down the hall,” Warner said as he reached for his newspaper. Tamela put her hands on top of the paper and asked, “Can I keep this?”
“Sure,” Warner said as he left Tamela’s office. When he was gone, Tamela picked up her phone and dialed Zurich’s number. When his answering machine picked up, she said, “Zurich, this is Tamela Coleman. Have you seen the paper? The Sun-Times. Well, looks like we got our hands full, so I would like to reschedule our meeting for next Tuesday at 10 A.M. If that works with your schedule, please call my office and leave me a message. Keep your chin up.”