THE LITTLE ALARM in my head finally sounded, reminding me that this woman was a con artist, someone who lived her entire adult life in the criminal world, an immoral world I’d only stepped into periodically to grab a crook and then stepped back into the moral one. Lately, though, it seemed I’d stepped across that line once too often and now I remained stuck, partway in and partway out, getting torn in half. My reaction to the two dead gangbangers the FBI put down in that flash of violence was the perfect example of my total lack of empathy.
“What did you do to be put in witness protection?”
She waved her hand, closed her eyes, trying to dismiss the question. “That’s old news, miles and miles of dirty water under that broken-down bridge.”
“Tell me.”
She opened her eyes and looked at me long and hard. “All right, baby. I won’t sugarcoat it. You’re a big boy and I can give it to you straight.”
Now she talked like a con and not a long-lost mother.
“You do that,” I said.
She looked down at her hands as shame clouded her expression. “I … I … that’s why I’m on parole. I reneged on the deal, and rode the beef. They did put me in witness protection and when it came time to raise my right hand in court … facing those two, I couldn’t do it. I went to prison instead.”
If what she said was true, she’d just gained a few points in my book, for playing the game straight. “What kind of case? It had to be a heavy one to warrant a fed WITSEC.”
“It was. You know Boulevard Freddy Banks?”
“Ah, man, you’re kidding me.” The floor dropped out from under me as my mind spun. I looked to the hotel room door. No way would it be strong enough to keep out that kind of evil.
She said nothing more and waited.
How could she have moved about in my world for so many years without ever coming up on my radar? Boulevard Freddy Banks was the number-two guy in the rock coke franchise for the greater Los Angeles area. He was huge and notorious. He’d murdered his way to the top and had millions of dollars to help keep him there. Wicks, my old boss, wanted a piece of Banks, but no one could ever put a solid case on him. Banks was too far removed from the hands-on part of the business. And there was a reason why no one ratted on him. If good old Mom had been in a position to take down Banks, she was a lot more dangerous to Marie, to our family, than I had ever imagined.
“He’s in the fed pen now,” I said. “Right?”
She shook her head. “He just got out. Without my testimony, they only had him on some money-laundering thing. That’s why I’m here, now.”
“He’s out?” My face flushed hot with rage. I wanted to sock this old woman, no, my mother. “You dragged your slop into my life and put my wife, my pregnant wife, in jeopardy? What the hell were you thinking?”
More tears. This time they did nothing to penetrate my anger. I fumed, contemplating wheeling her out into the hall and slamming the door. Let Boulevard Freddy Banks have her. She started to wheel her chair from the living area toward her room. I wasn’t going to stop her. For the time being it was for the best. At her bedroom door, her back still to me, she said, “I didn’t know you were married. I didn’t know you had a child on the way. How could I?” She turned her machine around. “I didn’t know anything about you. I didn’t. What happened … I mean, why I’m here … a big thug named Deon Rivers, who works for Freddy Banks, came sniffin’ around the halfway house where parole placed me. Ruby Two was with him, that’s how I knew for sure he was with Boulevard Freddy.”
“Ruby Two was the other one you were going to testify against?”
Mother nodded. “I saw them from up the street. They didn’t see me. I … had nowhere else to go. I’m sorry. I’ll move my slop on out of here now. I won’t be bothering you anymore.”
Part of that empathy I thought had gone missing raised its ugly head, this at a most inopportune moment. “Wait.”
She froze.
“You can stay till morning.”
“That’s generous of you, Son.” No sarcasm in her tone.
Trying to use son to get to me. Instead, it only inflamed my rage all over again. I fought it. This woman was my mother. Marie was about to be a mother. Even though Marie would never find herself in this kind of jam … Oh, but she had. We had. Not two months earlier. Those who lived in glass houses and all that crap. “You have any money?”
She wheeled her chair a couple turns closer; her arms ropy with muscle for a woman her age. “Not one red cent. I’m in a real bind here, Son.”
I tried to think. I tried to work out all the possible options. There weren’t any. This old woman had backed me against the wall. “No way are we taking you with us to Costa Rica.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
She nodded.
“How did you find me?”
“I told you, through your nephew, Bruno.”
“How did you know about Bruno?”
“Like I said, I was in this halfway house sponsored by Soldiers for Christ, the one in Lennox.”
“I know the one you’re talking about.”
“There was an overdose. Zoey Oliver, that poor girl, took some pills and was finally able to escape this horrible world.” Bea made the sign of the cross. “The sheriff came to take the report.”
“Bruno’s a sheriff’s intern at Lennox station,” I said, “and he was on a ride-along with the deputy. That’s how it happened.”
“That’s right. I saw his name on his uniform, ‘Bruno Johnson.’ I asked him about it. I asked him if he was your son. He told me he was your brother’s son. I didn’t know you had a brother, Bruno.”
“That’s a long story. His name’s Noble. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“I’d like that. Well, anyway, that’s how I met your nephew. A couple days after, that’s when Ruby Two showed with that thug. I didn’t know what else to do and called Bruno.”
“A couple of months back, Bruno went missing.”
“Yes, that’s when he was helping me relocate. Watching my back. He got me set up in a real nice apartment under an alias. He watched my back for a couple of weeks to make sure I was in the clear.”
“What happened?”
She patted the wheels on both sides of the chair. “An old black woman on parole and in a wheelchair is hard to hide. My parole agent found me. She’d have violated my parole had I not come right over here. I didn’t know what else to do. When Marie opened the door and let me in, she saved me. I had already called the parole agent; told her this was where I landed after the halfway house. To be honest, I didn’t know if it would work. It was a shot in the dark. I owe Bruno, and Marie, for keeping me out of the joint. If I’d have gone back in this time, Boulevard Freddy would’ve had me shanked for sure.”
“You put me in a real jam here,” I said.
“I know, and I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know what else to do.”
I was about to say, “You could have just taken off, ran for it.” But the chair kept that from happening. She was in a real jam, and I don’t know if I wouldn’t have done anything different had I been in her place. That didn’t mean she was a nice person or make her eligible to join our family as a late miss-out. She’d have to clear herself of any threat before I exposed all of our children in Costa Rica. I couldn’t see how she was going to do that. No way could we make it work.
Over on the counter, my cell phone buzzed, doing its little vibration dance going in circles. I struggled to my feet with more energy than I had a right to own. I knew who had to be calling. Only two people had the number, and one of them was in the bedroom asleep. The news wouldn’t be good. Not at that hour.
I picked up. “Yeah, Dan.”