by Wayne Lerner

I hated him.
He knew it.
And I knew how much he hated me. Because she loved me.
She loved me as if I was her own. He knew I loved her.
I was loyal to her and her parents.

He abused me.
Not physically.
But by the way he spoke to me.
And he ignored his kids, my cousins.

Gallivanting around,
Stopping at his pawn shops and currency exchanges. Screwing trusting souls at his car dealership. Frequenting prostitutes.
Fucking his secretary in the South Shore Drive motel.

She knew.
They knew.
Her parents didn’t want her to marry him.
He was a good looking fellow.
He sucked her in when she was young, a rebel.

When you looked into his eyes, You knew not to trust him. Something was off.
But you went along with him, You had to.

Your stomach tried to warn you.

The blacks had no choices. Neither did the immigrants. That’s the way they got their cars, Cashed their paychecks.

On the south and west sides, His monopoly ruled.

Bought out all the small guys. Charged a higher percentage. Because he could.

They had no choice
But to make him richer,
More powerful.
His pockets lined with their money.

A racist motherfucker
Embarrassed by his own religion.
An antisemite.
There’s nothing worse than a Jewish antisemite.

“Sit down, kid. Yeah, over there,” the police officer said, pointing to a gray metal chair in the corner of the 5 X 7 cell used as a conference room.

Jacob took his seat, folding his shaking hands on the table in front of him. “Cigarette?” “No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

“Ok, then. My name’s Mosby. Sgt. Peter Mosby,” lighting up a Montclair. ”I’ll be handling the first part of the case until the dicks come in a little later.”

“Sgt. Mosby, would you mind putting out your cigarette?” asked Jacob. “My stomach’s really queasy after what I’ve been through. The fumes and that horrible smell is making it worse.”

“What’samatter, you don’t like perfum de perp?” laughed Mosby. “There’s no ventilation in this old station. Built in the ‘30’s, no AC.”

“That's right. It’s 1967 and we still don’t have any window units. Said they’re in the budget. Sure.” Mosby opened the door to the main office and flipped on the overhead fan. “That smell has made itself at home in our walls. There's nothing like the stink of vomit, blood and piss to wake you up for the 7am roll call.”

The thought of starting his day with that smell invading his senses was repulsive to Jacob. “How can you put up with that every day?”

His joints cracked as he stretched his 6’5” body. His muscles, barely constrained by the too-small uniform. “What choice do I have? This’s my job and this’s where they got me,” smiled Mosby.

Mosby sat down and squished his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray of days-old butts and ashes.

“It could be worse. I could be stuck at 24th and Cal in the intake area. The smell’s so bad there, everybody smokes to cover up the stink. And then they throw away their work clothes.”

“I’ll take your word for it. What’s the plan today? I’ve already been interviewed by about a dozen folks so far. They have my statement.”

“Yeah, I’ve read your file. Interesting. College kid. No arrests, no speeding tickets, but picked up for curfew. Exciting, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I like it that way. Keep out of trouble or my Dad will beat me to a pulp. Besides, I gotta get back to campus. All this questioning is keeping me from leaving.”

“Ok, then, let’s get on with it,” said Mosby. He turned on his tape recorder and placed it between them. “You don’t mind if we record this, do you? Or are you gonna request the presence of your lawyer again?”

“No. My lawyer has read my statement. Said I’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not the killer in this case. We all know who is.”

“You mean your Uncle Irv?” asked Mosby. “It says right here that you told the first investigating officer that you would kill him if you had the chance.”

“That’s right,” said Jacob, ringing his hands. “I'm sure he killed my aunt. There’s no way she would’ve killed herself and left him my cousins.”

Jacob rose from his chair and began to pace the room, getting more agitated as he told his story. “Besides, where's the money from the divorce check she cashed that day? This whole thing smells worse than the stink outside.”

Jacob’s face turned crimson as he continued. Anger possessed his body. Hands clenched. Jaws tight. Eyes full of fury. “Killed herself on the day her divorce from that asshole was finalized?” he shouted. “Think about it, Sgt. Killing herself makes no damn sense.”

Jacob pounded that table, spitting out his words. “She was pushed. Right out that 7th floor window of the Blackstone! If I had a gun, I’d have shot that motherfucker a long time ago myself!.”

“Easy now,” said Mosby, trying to calm him down. “I can’t answer that question, but threatening a person of interest in a murder/suicide case is not a good move.”

“It wasn’t suicide. If you knew him, really knew him, how he treated people, not just family, anybody, especially in business, you’d understand,” said Jacob.

“What business was he in?” asked Mosby.

Jacob sat down and tried to slow his breathing. His heart felt like it would pound itself right out of his chest. “He owned Chapel Olds on 87th and Stony. Catered to the rich folks on the northshore and the poor folks in that neighborhood.”

“Slow down, son. Just tell me your story.”

“At dinner, after a few drinks, he would brag about how he enjoyed robbing his customers. ‘I loan them the money to buy my cars and then charge them high interest on the loans. If they don’t pay, I repossess the cars and sell them to another poor putz,’ he’d brag. Same story over and over again. Used to make my aunt crazy when he talked like that. The rest of the family too.”

Jacob paused to compose himself, the volume of his voice close to normal.

“I know that place,” said Mosby. “I bought my ‘64 Super 88 there and another car for my wife. Come to think of it, they were not easy to deal with, but they’re the closest dealer we got.”

“I’ll bet they charge you for service, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do. Hey, wait a minute, “ said Mosby, getting worked up with the story he’s hearing for the first time. “You’re saying they’ve been charging me for stuff which could be covered under warranty. They said it wasn’t.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Sgt. That’s their normal practice.”

Mosby pounded the table. “Shit, I’ll bet they’re double-dipping. I heard the same thing from my brother-in-law. I didn’t believe him. They’ve been taking us for a ride all along.”

“Correct,” said Jacob. “He has no morals, no humanity, does not deserve to live. Not just because of what he did to my aunt, but because of how he deals with everyone.”

Mosby took a long breath to cool down and continue his questioning. “Be careful here, kiddo. You’re making claims about his guilt and he’s not even been arrested yet.”

“I’m not going to stop until the police catch on,” said Jacob so loud he could be heard throughout the station. “He’s dirty. He pays off his alderman. He pays off the cops. I’ll bet he’s already paying off some judge somewhere. He knows he’ll be a suspect in her death.”

“C’mon kid, let’s go to Lena’s and continue this conversation. I need a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Amazing hash browns. You can smell the onions cooking as soon as you hit the corner.”

“Love home cooking. I’m starving myself,” said Jacob.

Mosby grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. “I want to hear more of your story and why you think he was the one. Besides, if we go now, the perp smell won’t hang on our clothes. If it does, Lena won’t let us in.”

He siphoned off the family’s joy First, a trickle, then a flow.
Like draining gasoline
From a car’s tank.

Now the family was empty.
Empty of feelings of love.
The void filled with rage and anger. Blinding rage and searing anger.

Rage and anger begat hate. Hate begat revenge.
Primal, animal revenge. Pursued with utter vengeance.

Plans were hatched, then discarded. None seemed to do the deed
To relieve the pain.
And clear the nightmares.

Unbeknownst to all
A scheme unfolds Silent, cunning, devious Rising to the surface.

“Hey, Mosby. Haven’t seen you since yesterday. Whatcha been up to?” laughed Lena when they entered the restaurant. Lena gave Mosby a big hug as she eyed Jacob who was trailing behind.

“You know I can’t live a day without you and your cooking,” replied Mosby.

Lena hiked up her skirt and adjusted her apron, both a little too small for her ample hips.“Hi there, young man. You in custody of this big hunk?”

“No ma’am. He and I escaped the stink in the station to come here and have a genuine Lena breakfast. I’ve missed them since I left for college.”

Lena looked at Mosby, raising her eyebrows. “Is he in trouble? He looks like a decent-enough fellow.”

“If he keeps flapping his trap, he’ll be in hot water, for sure. I think we can help him out, though. Your food and my brains.”

The three of them laughed as Jacob and Mosby took a table far away from the other customers. Lena walked away, peeking over her shoulder as she left. Love to watch Mosby work. Takes an unlikely suspect to breakfast. To uncover the truth.

Lena went into the kitchen to fix their breakfast, never asking what they wanted. No orders were ever taken at her place. Lena knew just what the customer would like.

“Now, start from the top and don’t leave out any details. I know it’s been a while since this all took place but you’re a college boy with a good mind, right?”

Jacob took a deep breath and began to relay his side of the story.
Lena brought their food and put it down without saying a word. Best record in the station. Always finds the truth. Arrests the right guy. No one knows his secret. But I do.

Lena smiled as she remembered Mosby’s response to the often-posed question. “Just my brains, my good looks and my sixth sense,” he would say.

Breakfast was done and so were they. Mosby knew Jacob didn’t do the deed but he wasn’t going to let him off the hook, just yet. Going to watch this kid. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid like he said he would. Gotta keep him dangling after the meeting. See if he bolts or stays true.

“Thanks for the great breakfast and talk, Sgt.” Jacob said as he got up to leave. Mosby took a final sip of his now cold coffee. “You going back to college now?” “Yessir. Got to finish my senior year and go on job interviews.”

“Alright, but check in with me throughout the year. Here’s my phone numbers, station and home. Let’s us stay in touch. The dicks and I’ll try to unravel this mess.”

“Absolutely. I just want to see that bastard tried for the murder I know he committed or had someone commit for him.”

“No more talk like that, I told you. Keep your mouth shut unless you’re talking to me or your lawyer. And don’t go and do something you’ll regret later. If he’s guilty, I’ll get him.”

Jacob nodded his agreement as he trudged towards the door.

“Hey, Jacob. Remind me. What was the name of the dealership your uncle owns? I need to check on a few things.”

“Chapel Olds.”

Mosby looked at Lena who nodded her head as the door slammed shut behind him.

Investigators hired To seek out the truth. Lawyers engaged
To fight for the family.

They wanted custody So did the father. Judge ruled. Decision final.

The family, despondent. He had won.
All was lost
They feared.

No place to turn,
No one to ask.
To find justice,
For justice has its price.

But sometimes, Just sometimes, Justice does prevail.

Only not from where you thought.

Mosby and Lena retreated to the corner of the restaurant to talk in private.

“I’m familiar with that dealership," said Lena. “The customers at my South Chicago restaurant have had problems there, too.”

“I’ve been thinking about how to go about this case," said Mosby. “It’s got some twists and turns like all the others but there’s lots more I just don’t see yet.”

Lena looked at Mosby, chin in her hand, head tilted to the right, eyes gazing into the distance.

She’s doing it again. Every time she has an idea or gives me advice. Still, she’s right more often than she’s wrong.

“How about calling Reggie Adams? Wasn’t he a classmate of yours in the Academy?”

“Yeah, Reggie and I were. He chose to work south when I went west. He operates out of your restaurant on the southside?”

“Yes,” replied Lena. “He uses some of the same methods you do when he has a tough case. Reggie’s groomed a network of ‘friends’ that octopuses itself throughout Area 2.”

“That’s a great suggestion,” said Mosby, giving her a big hug. “I’ll move on it as soon as I get back to the station.”

“Reggie and I are in contact just about every week. He keeps me in the know. Sounds like we all got ourselves an epidemic of crooked dealing from that kid’s uncle.” Lena paused to consider the situation. “By the way, what about Jacob? You worried?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m afraid he’s going to do something really stupid to wipe away his family’s pain. Sounds like they put the monkey on his back to make sure they get even. I sure get it.”

“Me, too, honey, but we got to watch over him while you get at the truth. You’ve done it before. I’m sure Reggie can help. Maybe he has a take on this case.”

“I’m there,” said Mosby, rising to kiss Lena goodbye. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Mosby whispered in her ear. “You always see a clear path for me.“

“Honey, I got your back...and more,” smiled Lena.
Mosby returned the smile with a gentle wave and a deep bow of respect.

The front door of the station greeted Mosby with its perpetual perp smell. He hurried to his office avoiding both the stink and his staff demanding he attend to their issues.

“You guys gonna have to figure shit out yourselves,” shouted Mosby, slamming the door behind him. Mosby grabbed the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Reggie, this is Mosby...I know. It’s been way too long...My fault...Hey, I’m in a tight spot and could use your help...Uh huh, a cold case That’s come back to life...Yeah, it’s the guy from Chapel Olds! How do you know?...No shit...You got time for me later this week? Friday’s great...Meet you at Lena’s on 87th at 9am...Thanks. Together, I know we can put this baby to bed.”

Mosby put the phone back in its cradle, eying the line of Sergeants waiting outside of his office. “Ok, next!

Lena’s on 87th was a duplicate of her westside place. Checker-covered tables, linoleum floors and vinyl chairs in a square highlighted by bright, fluorescent lights. The placement of the furniture and location of the kitchen behind the active counter, the same. Lena liked things orderly. She wasn’t fond of surprises or change. Lena was always in control.

Arriving at 9 sharp, Mosby spotted Reggie at one of the corner tables towards the back. Mosby took a seat next to him, both facing the door. They didn’t like surprises, either.

”Sorry, I’m late,” said Mosby.
“You’re not late, man, right on time,” replied Reggie, looking at his watch.

“In my family, Reg, if you’re on time, you're late,” said Mosby. “Mom was always strict about these things. Said being late was disrespectful.”

“Wanna tell my wife what your Momma drilled into your head,” laughed Reggie. “Never mind, can’t change a leopard’s spots.” Reggie leaned close to Mosby, speaking in a low voice. “Speaking of leopard’s spots, let’s talk about the case.”

“Yeah, that would be great. I got some information from one of my sources about the suspect but not enough to arrest him. You got anything?”

“Same as you. He’s been fucking his customers for years now, mostly our kind,” said Reggie, shaking his head. “Complaints been filed with the BBB and the City but no one’s paying any attention. Said it’s the buyer's problem they’re getting taken to the cleaners. And the juice he’s taking from cashing checks ain’t illegal either.”

“I heard it’s almost as big as the vig at the track and the policy game,” responded Mosby. “One of the runners told me he thought Irv was trying to move into the numbers racket. Not that he doesn't have enough money already.”

“Shit, I heard the same thing. Some of the writers use Lena’s or the barber shop to meet their customers. What’s more,” replied Reggie, “last week, I walked the beat with the local badges to see and be seen in the district.”

Reggie took a drink of his steaming coffee. “They told me they ran into some of the Chapel Olds customers who got screwed with their repair charges. When they went to pay their bills, they were offered the chance to offset their costs by taking out a new loan or, get this, having a go in a new numbers game on the street.”

“Did they say who was bankrolling the game,” whispered Mosby. “The mob?”

“No. They thought it was backed by Irv. Trying to horn in on the games already on the street.”

“Man’s playing with fire,” acknowledged Mosby. “Policy on the south and west sides a black game, played and owned. Even the Italians stay away, at least for the moment.”

“They say that the State’s looking at legalized gambling, like a lottery,” replied Reggie. “You know the saying. ‘Whoever’s got the game, got’s the money.’ And they ain’t gonna like some sharpy moving in on their territory. Especially a white sharpy.”

“So, where are we,” asked Mosby. “I’m investigating the death of that dude’s wife. We’re bringing it in from the cold. Now you tell me he might be trying to move in on the numbers game.”

“That’s what my sources tell me, " said Reggie. “And not just in Area 2. Some say he’s moving to the west side, too.”

“If he does that, I guarantee you, Chapel Olds will go up in flames," said Mosby. “I wouldn’t screw with the policy chiefs. Shit, some of them are even precinct captains. They got people in places even he can’t reach.”

“Let’s peel the onion together,” replied Reggie. “You petition the court to open the murder case. I’ll use my network to see what I can uncover on the numbers game. If what we suspect is true, someone’s ass is gonna be on fire when they find out he’s mooching in on their game.”

“I got one other issue, a complicated one,” said Mosby. “You got a few more minutes for me to tell you about this kid, Jacob, who’s become my problem? He’s the nephew of the lady who died. He’s on the warpath to kill his uncle, who he’s sure did the deed.”

Reggie took a sip of his now-cold coffee. “Proceed, my friend, I can’t wait to hear this,” Reggie laughed. “It’s like our last case together. Lots of perps, likely perps and folks who want to be the perp.”

Mosby grabbed a fresh pot of coffee from the counter. He refilled both cups, leaned close to Reggie and unwound the now two-year old saga.

Unceasing, Irritating, Disquieting, Humming.

Ominous humming Always in the background. Upsetting transactions, Disturbing business. Patiently plotting
His next maniacal deed. Like killers in the movies Executing their victims.

Playing them Like a yoyo. Off-putting Humming

Colleagues, customers, Family and friends, Using them like pawns In his commerce play.

Clear motives,
Evil in nature.
A force possessed, Not to be denied.

Fight back, But how?

Allies needed,
A common cause.

Was there another way? A way not seen before? Perhaps, use evil
To combat evil.

Uncommon bedfellows Show their faces.
They know the mission, Strike at the core.

“Sgt. Mosby, did you see the news?”
Mosby smiled. He had been waiting for the call. “Yes, Jacob. I read the paper this morning.”

“They’re not saying what happened. Was it ...?’

“They’re still looking into it. From what I hear, I don’t think he committed suicide, if that’s what you’re asking.” Mosby paused to let his words sink in, then changed the subject. “On another note, what’re you up to now? Been keeping your mouth shut?”

“Yessir. Two years, no talking. Starting a new job next week. Been thinking about law school,” Jacob stopped to take a breath. “Hey, I’d sure like to see you again. How about breakfast at Lena’s tomorrow? Are you free?”

“Turns out I am. Roll call’s at 7. Got some paperwork and a meeting to attend. See you at 9:30.”

Mosby finished his calls and ambled over to Lena’s. “You clean up real good,” Mosby said upon seeing Jacob. “Cut your hair and got rid of that scraggly beard.”

Jacob stood up to shake Mosby’s hand. “Looking for a job does that to you.”

Lena came from the kitchen to greet her customers and determine their order. “Commander Mosby, what brings you to my little place of joy? I haven’t seen you for a month or so.”

“Hey stranger, we need to fatten you up a bit,” Lena said, giving Jacob a big hug.

“Commander?” exclaimed Jacob. “When did you get the big promotion?”

“Became effective last week when me and my partner busted open a case gone cold.”

Lena looked at Mosby, then Jacob and nodded her head. “Your uncle.”

Speechless. Eyes wide, jaw open.

“I really wanted to get that bastard but someone did it for me,” said Jacob, when he regained his composure. “I even got my first gun so I could finish him once and for all.”

“Careful now, child,” said Lena. “This isn’t the place to shoot off your mouth like that.” Lena grabbed Jacob and held him close. “Especially in this neighborhood, you never know who’s listening,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re right, Lena,” said Jacob. “But I gotta hear what happened. My family is still depending on me to settle the score. If it’s over, at least I can tell them that.”

“Let’s move on to eating some of Lena’s home cooking,” said Mosby. “We can talk then. Quiet like.”

Mosby looked around and then leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “It was a hit. They’re not saying anything about it publicly, just that we found the body. The big guys said that this closed the cold case, your aunt.” Mosby hesitated, trying to decide how much more to say. He shrugged his shoulders and continued. “My promotion came soon thereafter. I guess someone way up top thinks this will keep me from digging any deeper.”

“This doesn’t close anything,” replied Jacob. “It makes for an easy conclusion to a dirty situation!”

‘Easy, son,” warned Mosby. “There’s lots more people involved. People in high places.”

“Like what kind of people?” asked Jacob. “Politicians, Judges? Who? We knew he was paying off anyone who could finger him.”

“Can’t say. No one’s sure yet. But it looks like it goes up the flagpole a long way.”

“Then who ordered the hit? I’ll bet there were lots of folks lining up to help.” Jacob took a sip of his OJ and smacked the table with his palm, causing diners to stop eating or talking and stare at their table. ”He took advantage of everyone, Commander. No regard for his customers or his staff. No decency in that man.”

“Calm down. Everyone’s looking over here,” admonished Mosby.

“I’m sorry but you know how I feel.”

“Yes, I do. Now, if you can control yourself, we can continue our conversation.”

They could smell the food before Lena arrived with their dishes. Scrambled eggs, pancakes topped with butter and syrup, crispy hash browns, their favorites.

Jacob nodded his assent, grabbed a fork and dug into his meal. ”I’ll be quiet,” he said.

“Based on our investigations, I’d have to agree with you. Couldn’t find anyone who could vouch for him or say a good word,” said Mosby, pouring himself some coffee from the pot on the table. “Hard to believe someone could piss off so many people, but he sure did.”

“Lena, I’ve missed your cooking,” said Jacob as she started back towards the kitchen. “I’ve been gone too long. Maybe I should get a job with Mosby so I can be here more often.”

“Don't do me any favors,” laughed Mosby. “Now that the cold case ain’t cold anymore, you go on with your life. And help your cousins and your family get on with theirs.”

“Good advice, Mosby,” piped up Lena. “But, Jacob, you can come back here anytime you want.”

“Thank you, Lena. if you don’t mind, I have a few more questions for the Commander.”

“Of course, honey. There’s some new folks who just came in and they look real hungry.”

“Can you let me in on what you found in your investigation?” asked Jacob after Lena left their table.

“No, I can’t and don’t ask anymore. You’ll go down a rabbit hole, I won't be able to pull you out of. This stuff’s more dangerous than you could ever imagine.”

“Ok, then can we stay in touch? I appreciate the way you handled me and the case. There’s a lot I can learn from you as I start my career.”

“Sure. What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to go to law school and then work for the Cook County State’s Attorney”s office. I want to do what you do but from a different angle. Hey, maybe we’ll get to work together one day.”

Mosby shook his head, then gazed at the ceiling. “Good Lord, what did I do to deserve this?” They both laughed and finished their breakfast.

“Can I walk you back to the station, Commander?” Jacob asked, rising from his chair.

“I’ve got to talk with Lena,” Mosby said. “You take care of yourself now. Let’s do this again later in the fall.”

Jacob shook Mosby’s hand, then gave him a hug. He wasn’t going to let him go.

Mosby waited until Jacob was gone before he and Lena took over a table at the rear of the diner. 10am, the place was almost empty save the retired folks who had no place to be and no place to go.

“You’re his mentor now, like it or not. Are you going to be ok?” asked Lena. “Jacob’s not going away, that’s for sure. Is he gonna cause you any problems?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Mosby. “He’s a good kid with a strong compass. I just hope the politics don’t change his focus. We’re not known as one of the most corrupt cities in the country for nothing, you know.”

“True, true. By the way, what did you find out about the body? I didn’t see any details in the paper.”

“You won’t. Too gruesome,” said Mosby. “He was tortured before he was killed. Kneecaps broken, probably by a hammer or a bat. Cut out his tongue and yanked his fingernails out.” Mosby took a deep breath and continued. “They shot him in the back of the head and put his body in his ‘98, set it on fire. To make sure he was found before he became a crisp, they called the location in to CFD. They wanted him to be found. Maybe because he knew something they wanted to know or just maybe this was a warning to others.”

Lena’s face showed no emotion as she listened to Mosby’s description of the hit. “He deserved what he got, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know if anyone deserves to die that way,” replied Mosby, “Maybe scum like him, I don’t know. One thing’s for sure, it was a long and painful death. Kinda like the pain he caused others.”

“Just like what he did to those around him, don’t you think?” asked Lena. “He’s no longer in pain. His family will never be rid of theirs.”

“You shock me,” said Mosby, shaking his head. “You’re more vindictive than I would have thought from such a prayerful woman.” Mosby paused, his words sinking in. “No forgiveness.”

“No, honey. I believe in forgiveness for someone who is willing to do the work and be forgiven. That bastard messed around where he shouldn’t.” Lena rose from her chair. Her voice, strong with emotion. “Sure, it’s not right to screw people in business. It’s another thing to play in the numbers sandbox. It wasn’t his game. He tried to make it his. Even if we let him in, he didn’t know how to play fair with others.”

Lena slammed her hand hard on the table. The noise startled the remaining customers into silence. They looked at Lena, then went back to their breakfast. This wasn’t any of their business. “His greed and avarice got the best of him. And, yes, I believe he deserved what he got. God, forgive me.”

Mosby leaned back in his chair, reflecting on Lena’s tirade. “In other cases, we would say that the family can finally move on, but not this one. Hard to lose a daughter, mother, aunt so young and so loved.”

“That’s for sure. Let’s pray they can get past this.” Lena leaned close to Mosby, took his hand in hers. “You stay in touch with Jacob. Make sure he stays clean. He’s got a mean streak beneath that college boy smile, I can see it. There’s lots of folks who will try and turn his head. I’m not sure Jacob will feel kindly towards them.”

“I’ll sure try.” Mosby stood to leave, scanned the room and froze in his tracks. “Look who just walked in and took the back table. Isn’t that...?”

“Yes, honey, it is. Don’t look at him. He doesn’t like to be bothered. He and I have some things to discuss. They don’t concern you. He won’t be here long.”

Mosby fell back into his chair, reflecting on who he just saw and what Lena had said. The pieces fell into place. Reality slapped him across the face.

Lena saw the shock in his eyes. She saw the puzzle take shape in Mosby’s mind. “You’ve known all along what was going to happen.”

“I had an idea. I knew Irv was dirty but I didn’t know the extent of his relationships until the day he was killed.”

“He had to go, son. He was foolin’ with the wrong people. In our business, there’s no second chances.”

“Mom, you...”

“Now hush up, son. Not another word.” Lena put her finger on Mosby’s lips, guided him out of his chair and led him to the door. “You got your case closed as you always do. You just let your Momma do her thing. I’ve got to see my customer over there. Go on.”

Mosby opened the door, paused and looked at the man at the back table. The man gave Mosby a brief wave of the hand as if to say “Nice to have seen you. Now, good bye”

“Git,” said Lena. “I’ll see you at home. By the way, son, that lady’s death. That was no suicide.”

The family never recovered From the pain they endured. The news of his death
Did nothing to salve the wound.

Their emptiness left a void. Filled only by joy unrealized. Sometime, in days to come, They hoped and prayed.

What was clear,
So evident to the eye. Power’s aura, transient. Moves like the wind.

Justice raised her head
In a way never envisaged. Disguised as payback. Street justice prevailed.

Alas, you say, is this the end?
Is this the close to a story so vile? Good reader, no anguish please. More tales await you,
In just a little while.