No Room for Mercy (27 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PIECES OF A PUZZLE

“You said one of them was named Desiree?” Asa Spade asked
Francesca as she lay in her hospital bed about four hours after her
ordeal. Francesca was treated for cuts to her stomach. Inside left
thigh and the bottom of her feet, very minor wounds given her
potential outcome. Police had taken a report, but Francesca’s
fabricated inability to identify her supposed attackers left the
authorities with nothing to go on. It was little they could do, save
for hope for a potential lead that would never arrive.

“Desiree the only name I remember. Something else was said
about some Somalis. I don’t think they’re from ‘round
here because one of the guys said something about going back to the
Ap. I don’t know no neighborhood called the Ap here in Denver.”
Francesca replied.

“What’s the Ap?” Dougie asked.

“I don’t know what the Ap is, man,” Francesca
sighed. “They had us right. I should be fuckin’ dead. But
they was so high they forgot about me when they went to let some of
them out.”

“There was a lady we think was scoping the club last night,”
Asa said. “She used a credit card to pay her tab and we found
out her name was Desiree Abbadando. I don’t think it was
coincidence. We got hit by this woman and her click. We find her, we
find out who did this and why. In the meantime, I’m gone pay
JunJie his cut outta pocket and business will go on.”

Just then Dougie’s phone rang. He answered and chatted briefly
before hanging up and said, “Ace? They found my cousin in the
park in Shorter Arms.”

Asa looked over to Dougie, who was at a loss for words. Francesca had
given the crew the lowdown, but now Dougie was feeling the full
impact. Percy was his like his brother; the two had been in the crib
together, slept and pissed in the same bed when they were kids and
had each other backs on the streets of L.A. and Vegas and rose to the
top of the game, going from slanging crack to moving bricks and
making more money than they’d ever imagined. Denver, however,
would be where Percy Hunt’s journey through the game would come
to an utter halt. The rise to the top came with a price—a heavy
price. And for Douglas ‘Dougie’ Hunt, the cost of success
was the loss of his blood.

Asa could feel Dougie’s pain. He knew all-too-well what his boy
was feeling because he’d loss a nephew who’d been like a
son to him two years ago. He knew where Dougie’s heart was
also—it was set on revenge no doubt. “We gone get through
this shit, Dee. Let’s go get Percy ready to be sent home. Then
we gone track down this Desiree. We got an address off the credit
card she used.” Asa ended.

*******

Carmella, meanwhile, was over to her mansion in Cherry Creek eating
breakfast with Desiree and Pepper as she thought about the events
that had transpired hours before. Neither she nor Desiree had slept a
wink and both were drunk and high as all out doors; but despite being
in an inebriated state, Carmella’s mind was in overdrive this
early Sunday morning. The woman she knew as Ponita Felton had
vanished, having been fed to the sharks entirely, the other person
who she knew as Percy Hunt, his body had been wrapped in plastic and
dumped in the park inside Shorter Arms. It was Carmella’s way
of showing respect to the woman named Francesca Aranello for not
bringing the police into the situation when she had the chance to do
so. Still, the finding of Percy’s body had drawn heat to Asa
Spade’s main hustle spot. He would have to move to another
locale for the time being was Carmella’s best guess; but she
knew she had to be on high alert because Francesca was sure to give
the location of the club where the drama went down. She had Q-man and
his crew stay in Denver instead of heading back to Minneapolis-Saint
Paul in order to help her move weight and provide extra muscle for
whatever battle may unfold. She would be heavily guarded when out on
the streets.

Carmella sat staring at Desiree with disdain. She was beyond words as
she watched the woman talk happily with Pepper as if what she’d
told her last night in bed was no big deal. Desiree was so high,
she’d told Carmella exactly what she’d done when she
walked into
The Royal Flush
and Carmella was incensed.

“You think you in good with me after what you did last night,
Desi?” Carmella asked, having grown tired of watching what she
perceived was a nonchalant attitude being put on display by her
lover.

“What? I did all that you asked last night. You’re not
satisfied, Carmella?”

“I’m not talkin’ about what we did here! This is
about the V-I-P shit you pulled! That is the problem this morning!”

“I didn’t get a V-I-P!”

“That’s not what you said! The drugs! You were so high
you laughed yourself into a confession you fuckin’ dummy! You
told me you went into the V-I-P section last night in the bed! And
whether you did or didn’t there was no fight last night at The
Royal Flush so that means you lied to me!”

Desiree was at a loss for words. She stood up and walked over to
Carmella. “I’m, I’m sorry I did that.”

Carmella didn’t say it, but she was admiring Desiree in her
short negligee. Her smooth thighs covering the sweet pleasure palace
she loved to suck and lick on until her heart was content. She
couldn’t let on that she was turned on by the sight, though,
because the move she was about to make was far from that of a sexual
advance.

Pepper was staring at Desiree herself. Again she’d watched
Carmella and Desiree go at on top of the sheets and she had gotten a
thrill herself. The things the two women did to one another looked as
if it felt good and she now took the time to eye Desiree up-close in
near nudity.

“Pepper, go to your room,” Carmella snapped, noticing the
little girl’s hard stares.

“But, I’m not done with my sausages and—”

“I said go to your fuckin’ room, li’l girl! This is
grown women’s business!” Carmella yelled, forcing Pepper
to hop up from her seat and dash out the dining room. “Your
li’l hot ass!” she added as she watched Pepper trot down
the hall and out of sight. “You gone get what you lookin’
for around here you keep playin’! ‘Cause I’m the
right one to put it in your young ass life!”

“Carmella, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’
sorry.” Desiree said as she stood before Carmella with her eyes
welling up.

Carmella eyed Desiree coldly as she eased her chair back from the
table. “Everybody is always sorry in this business! I’m
sorry this, I’m fuckin’ sorry that! I get tired of
hearing that shit, Desi! Why can’t people just do as I ask? I
know what the fuck I’m doing here!”

“I won’t let you down again, baby. I promise.”

Carmella hopped up from her seat in her night gown and walked into
the living room with Desiree on her heels. She went straight for her
gold-plated .50 caliber lying on the coffee table, turned around and
aimed the gun at Desiree’s stomach. “I told you if you
lie to me I was gone fuck you up,” she hissed.

The look on Desiree’s face was one of shock and fear. Carmella
had never gone this far with her. Sure, she’d curse her out
like the whore she was, slap her around like she owned her, which she
did, but she’d never pulled a gun. “You’re, you’re
going to kill me for making a wrong move, Carmella? I thought you
loved me!” Desiree pleaded.

“Get on your knees and crawl over here,” Carmella
demanded.

“Baby, please. This isn’t—”

“I said get on your fuckin’ knees and crawl over here!”
Carmella yelled as she racked her pistol and pointed to her
fur-tipped stilettos.

Desiree began crying heavily as she sunk to her knees while shaking
her head from side to side. “There’s no need to do this,”
she lamented as she crawled across the floor in her negligee, staring
Carmella directly in the eyes.

“This is how I will make things right,” Carmella said as
she held the gun at her side, watching her mate creep across the
floor slowly, like that of a dog in search of its master.

“Please, no!” Desiree pleaded as she reached out and
clutched Carmella’s legs and cried heavily.

Carmella stared down at the top of Desiree’s skull, slowly
bringing the pistol up to the top of her head. “I love you
Desi,” she said as she squeezed the trigger.

Desiree nearly jumped up out of her skin when she heard the gun
click. She cried heavily upon realizing it was nothing more than a
game of manipulation, a warning of sorts from Carmella to let her
know just how far she was willing to go to protect her business. “If
you ever lie to me again, the next time the gun will be off safety,”
Carmella said before she stepped back and walked away from Desiree.
“I don’t want to see your ass until we leave tonight for
the club. Dismiss yourself from my presence,” she commanded.

“Si, Carmella. Thank you,” Desiree remarked as she got up
off her knees and ran into one of the spare bedrooms, where she would
remain the rest of the day.

*******

While events were unfolding in Denver, Colorado, six hundred miles
away in Ponca City, Oklahoma, on the same day, there was much
happening down on the ranch. Walee had just run into Ponderosa
shortly before eight A.M. and crept into one of the bathrooms on the
first floor where he stripped off his clothes and showered. Wrapping
himself up in a towel and placing his jeans, underwear, shirt and
socks into a trash bag, Walee ran out of the home’s side door
on the east side and stashed the bag in one of the family’s
dumpsters before climbing the stairs to his bedroom to put on a fresh
set of clothes.

A couple of hours later, the family took to the land and it was alive
with activity as usual on this early Sunday morning. Naomi had been
riding a tractor around the front portion of the land in between the
home and the barn picking up refuse. She rode over to the dumpsters
to discard the trash and when she opened one of the lids she was hit
with one of the most foul stenches ever. She backed away and grabbed
a stick and began poking at the trash and pulled out a small pair of
jeans, jeans she knew belonged to Walee. “
What has he gotten
himself into now,”
Naomi questioned in silence.

Naomi first thought Walee had fell off into a pile of cow dung, but
on closer inspection she could see that the source of the odor was
deriving from within the denim jeans. She threw the jeans back inside
the dumpster and returned to Ponderosa in search of Walee. She walked
into the kitchen where she saw Doss placing dishes into the dish
washer and asked, “Baby, have, have you seen Walee?”

“Not yet,” Doss replied as he kissed his wife’s
lips. “But it won’t be long before we hear him,” he
joked.

Naomi only sighed as she rubbed Doss’s broad shoulders and
walked away. When he questioned his wife her over her seemingly
troubled soul, she made light of the situation, stating that it
wasn’t a big deal and she was just wondering where he was
because she hadn’t seen him in a while. Naomi then went into
the theater room where she saw Spoonie and Tyke watching ESPN. “Have
you either of you two seen your little big brother?” she asked.

“We went into his room and he said he wasn’t feeling well
and for us not to tell anyone,” Tyke responded.

Naomi chuckled as she walked out of the room and climbed the grand
staircase and walked into Walee’s room where she saw her son
tucked under his covers. On any given day, Walee would be leading the
way through the stockyards with Spoonie and Tyke following, on his
way to meddle Kimi and Koko out by the chicken coops. Naomi thought
it to be strange that her son would still be in bed this late in the
morning when the entire family was up and about. She walked over and
sat beside Walee, pulled his covers down and saw that he was crying.

“I didn’t mean to do it, momma,” Walee said lowly.

“Accidents happen, son. But throwing your clothes away? What
happened?”

“I got scared.”

“Scared? Scared for what, baby? What happened, Walee?”

“I was by the canal looking for another turtle,” Walee
began. “I wasn’t making noise or nothing. Just walking
down the middle of the canal when that man back there ran down the
hill and pushed me down.”

Naomi tucked her chin. “He pushed you down?”

“Yeah. I got up ran, but, but—”

“But what?” Naomi asked, her heart pounding as she
scooped Walee into his arms. “What happened?”

“He threw me down and pointed a shotgun at my chest and said he
was gone kill me for makin’ fun of him at the park,”
Walee said as he heaved. “He scared me! And I, I wet my—”

“You don’t have to say it, son. Don’t say it,”
Naomi whispered through tears as she held her son close to her heart
and ran her hands through his thick hair.

“Momma, don’t say nothing! Don’t tell my daddy and
Dawk what I did. Promise you won’t tell.”

“Okay, son. Okay. But, can, can I go and talk to our neighbor
on your behalf and get him to apologize to you?”

“No. Let’s just let it alone.”

Naomi didn’t respond. She understood her son’s fear, but
to just ‘let it alone’ was not in her make-up. She wasn’t
built to just let things slide. And she felt her nameless neighbor
had no right to confront her son and literally scare the shit out of
him. He would have to answer for that one.

“It’ll be our secret, okay? But I will talk to him. I
have to, son.” Naomi said in a near whisper.

“Okay. Thank you, momma.”

“And Walee? As long as you live don’t you ever be ashamed
of what happened today, okay? Grown men have done worse under fewer
circumstances so don’t you be ashamed. You have people that
love you and will protect you.”

“I’m gone protect myself, too.”

“That’s what you do, Walee. Fear is a powerful thing, but
fighting for your life is to be honored. When you get older you’ll
remember this ordeal and handle the situation accordingly. But don’t
worry about it for now—momma has this one covered for you.”