Swerve Read online

  Thinking about the day and what it might hold, she rummaged around Tommy’s kitchen until she found a water bottle, and filled it with water from the hot/cold dispenser. She revisited the bag of almonds and then, on second thinking, she put the entire bag in her pocket. “I owe you,” she mumbled. “No, you’re one crazy chick, challenging me like that! What is your crazy problem? I could have been sleeping in Keliegh’s bed right now, safe and sound! No. You flippin’ owe me!” Romia reasoned. She stopped and thought about the words that just crossed her lips. “What am I thinking? I gotta get outta here. Why do people always think about sex at times like this?”

  Romia looked over her shoulder every now and then, feeling the peering eyes of a watcher. She could only think about the Shadow. But how could he know where I am? she asked herself, shaking off the thought of something so ridiculous. She had to find answers. Surely, Mike, the bartender, would have some answers for her about the woman. Even if I have to beat the answers out of him, she thought, chuckling to herself. That had never been her style, but in the last few hours she’d come to realize that sometimes people only cooperated when they felt threatened…or they’re unconscious, she added, thinking about Tommy. Striking out on foot, she hurried to the bus stop. She’d pay Tommy back her change when she saw her again.

  “She just left Tamika Turner’s place,” the Shadow reported.

  “Follow her. I want to know what she does next. I want to see exactly how she plans to get out of this situation. I need to know how she reasons under pressure.”

  “So far she’s acting like…Sheesh, she’s standing at a bus stop like…like she’s not a wanton felon. She’s acting like a…like a girl.”

  “She is a girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I noticed.” The Shadow chuckled wickedly, starting the engine on Romia’s Ducati motorcycle.

  Chapter 11

  About fifteen years ago

  She sat in the restaurant. Her heart was beating harder than ever before. A reunion formed from the betrayal of a mutual friend had its mixed emotions. To trust or not to trust was the question.

  Did he trust her? Maybe not…

  But she loved him. With all her being, she loved him.

  Glancing at the clock, she saw that it grew late. “He’s not coming,” she told herself, speaking in French, in an undertone. It had been many years since she’d spoken in her native tongue and tonight she realized it indeed sounded foreign, even to her own ears.

  She’d worked hard to disguise her accent, until finally she believed it to be gone. The waiter brought her second glass of sparkling wine. They called it champagne, but only in Paris could one get a decent glass of champagne. Here in America…

  She sighed heavily, thinking about France, Egypt, Morocco, Germany, Copenhagen, New York City, all the places she’d lived before settling in this small town, before giving in to her paranoia and overworked nervous system. She was tired.

  Running her hand through her thick blond hair, she pulled some strands through her fingers to where she could see them in front of her. For so many years she had been blond, having given up her rich brown tresses right after giving birth. Her green eyes too were now blue—changed by contacts. So much effort to put forth in developing a new life when, in fact, so few knew she was alive, and of those few, only two really mattered.

  The air grew thick now in this restaurant. So thick it took her breath away. Looking around desperately, she attempted to find the source of her distraction. It had to be him. “Why don’t I see him?” she mumbled, straining and craning her neck.

  There was a woman who caught her eye. She was black and very lovely as were her features and full her body. She was truly Nubian in every sense of the word. Her passion spoke before her lips even moved. She was captivating. Capri could only stare, for, suddenly, she realized the man who sat down at the table with her…

  It is he.

  He had arrived. It was just as she had been told. He always came here. How foolish he is to frequent such a public place, she reasoned. The lump in her throat was hard to swallow. She could only take in air, unable to breathe it out.

  When he kissed the woman, she felt it on her own cheek and touched her face there. He kissed her quickly again on the lips and there Capri felt the second burn. That was when he, too, felt her presence. She was sure of it, as he looked around cautiously, his steel grey eyes scanning the room quickly. She sat tall in her seat, waiting for his gaze to come her way, but it did not. It stopped short at another table. The couple at that table, noticing him, stood and welcomed him over, loudly expressing their happiness to see him. They called his name—a name Capri had never heard before.

  “Boss Man! You and Niema come here often?”

  “All the time,” he answered as he and the beautiful woman, who must have been Niema stood from their table to join them. The waiter helped move their glasses and table settings. He said something to the waiter as they moved to the next table. It was spoken behind the woman’s back, but she caught the exchange.

  The restaurant was comfortable enough for Capri to sit there for over an hour, watching the four of them talk, eat, laugh, and pay their tab and leave. Never once did he look her way. They walked out of the restaurant as happy as when they’d arrived.

  Her heart weighed a ton.

  Gathering her purse, she stood to leave. The waiter came up to her table with a tray that held one single glass of red wine. “Oh, yes, I do owe for the time I spent taking up room here.” She smiled, reaching into her bag. The waiter held up his hand and slid the glass from the tray onto the table in front of her.

  “A gentleman bought this for you and told me to give you this,” the waiter said, holding out his hand. On his palm sat a small pebble. Capri’s heart leapt as she hungrily grabbed the stone and clutched it to her chest. “He also paid your tab.”

  “Do you know that man? Do you know his name?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m new here—most of us on staff tonight are fairly new. He appears to be a regular but, I’m sorry, I don’t know him. He paid cash, so there is no way of finding out who he was tonight.”

  “It’s all right. I think I know who he was…”

  “Well, drink up and have a good night, ma’am,” the waiter said, spinning on his heels and walking away.

  Capri sat back at the table and got comfortable again. She sipped the wine slowly, allowing all the pain, joy, and memories fade into the throat of it. It was rich French wine—not unlike a taste from home.

  Chapter 12

  Back to the story

  Tommy woke up in Keliegh’s bed. She looked around, gathering her bearings. “That’s right, he’s on the sofa,” she mumbled, still half asleep, but fully disappointed. She had on his T-shirt and sweats, thanks to Romia mugging her the night before.

  Swinging her long legs over the side of the bed, she sat up and stretched. Keliegh’s bed was more than comfy. If only he had shared it, she thought, allowing her mind to wander into the forbidden place for half a second before snapping back to reality.

  Her head throbbed. She suddenly remembered the beating she had taken from Romia. “Crazy chick! You owe me big time,” she mumbled, again under her breath.

  After a pit stop at the bathroom to take the sleep off and all that, she shuffled into the living room, finding Keliegh on the sofa, scouring the newspaper.

  “Nothing,” he barked, flipping the paper over as if maybe planning to go through it again, a little closer this time.

  “Excuse me,” she grumbled, thinking, hoping, praying he had coffee. With a girlfriend like Shashoni, he should have had all sorts of goodies because…baby has back and loves to eat…from what she had seen at the last precinct party. Shashoni put a hurting on that appetizer tray. Tommy ventured into Keliegh’s kitchen and, sure enough, the coffee pot, and some bear claws were right there waiting. Perfection! Gotta love a thick girlfriend, Tommy thought. Okay, so Shashoni actually had a perfect hourglass shape, but still, when one was
tall and skinny like she was, everyone was thicker…well, except Romia. Now, that chick is stoked. She probably less than 1 percent body fat. She’s like a machine, Tommy thought now, remembering again the speed of Romia’s punches. Tommy was a third-level black belt and champion kickboxer, but still she would hate to meet Romia in competition. That chick is off this planet. She’s got some secret-weapon kinda moves ‘n’ shit, Tommy internally admired.

  “Nothing about a cop killing. Nothing about Romia being on the run. Nothing on TV. No APBs, nothing…”

  “You going in today?” Tommy asked after getting the coffee pot humming and the pastry arranged on a plate.

  “No. I’m suspended, remember?”

  “Maybe you’re not,” Tommy said, sounding almost nonchalant. “Hank is a liar…an idiot, too. Cap’n didn’t say anything to me when I bolted outta there, like, ‘Stop her, he’s suspended.’”

  “Well, that’s what Maxwell What’s-His-Name told me. So…”

  Tommy and Keliegh shared a moment of silence, as if both collecting their next thoughts and questions. “I wonder what happened to Shoni.”

  “You want me to go check out her place?”

  “No, I’ll go. I mean, damn, one would think the cops would have done that and she would have been there at the inquiry—or something. Maybe they did. Maybe they trashed her place like they trashed Romia’s.”

  Tommy turned toward him, jumping up backward on the counter next to the coffee pot. “Why would anybody trash Shashoni’s place? That’s dumb. Why would anybody trash Romia’s? I mean, maybe it’s not as dumb as trashing Shoni’s place, but, like, when would anybody have had time if they were questioning you?” She then took a big bite from her pastry.

  “Well, somebody did. It was mad trashed.”

  “Okay, Keliegh, let’s start over. What happened and what are we going to do about it? You know I’m up for it. You had my back when all that happened with my best friend and her daughter last year, so now I’ll help you with Romia. If you swear to me you believe she’s innocent, I swear to you I’ll help you…despite her kicking my ass last night.”

  “You had that ass kickin’ coming, but yeah, I know she’s innocent.”

  Tommy rolled her eyes. “How do you figure? But anyway…”

  “Don’t even start,” Keliegh said before breaking into laugher. “Okay, I don’t go in until tonight, so what do you need me to do today?”

  Keliegh walked into the kitchen, took the pastry from Tommy’s hand, and shoved the last bite into his mouth. He looked at her for a long time, as if wondering where to start. “Okay, let me sum up as best I can,” he began, as if attempting to relive an unbelievable dream or a nightmare and unsure of which.

  “Okay, so where do we start?”

  “Well, I think if we know who got killed, then we can start figuring out why that man needed to die.”

  “And why he needed Romia to kill him,” Tommy added, starting on a second pastry.

  Chapter 13

  Romia reached The Spot—the tavern where everything had gone down just a few hours prior. There was no caution tape and no sign of police activity. It wasn’t open, but there were a couple of cars parked in the lot. She looked the cars over from a distance to see if, perhaps, any were unmarked police cars. But none met the description. Looking around, she searched for any immediate hints or clues that might lead her to answers about the night before. “Somebody died here, for crying out loud. There should be signs or indications,” she mumbled under her breath. There wasn’t so much as a chalk outline, or even blood stains in the dirt…not even her own.

  Feeling odd about things, she pushed the door open and eased into the bar, quickly skimming the room. There were only two or three people there—employees apparently—and Mike, the owner and bartender. Pulling the hood from her head, she slid up on a stool and waited for him to turn around. When he did, she marked his expression. It was one of surprise.

  “What are you doing here, Romee? I thought you’d be in jail or out of the country.” His voice was an undertone; it was obvious he was trying to be discreet.

  “Not me. Maybe that woman who shot that man here last night…but not me.” She glanced around. Mike handed her a small bottle of mineral water instead of pouring it into a glass. Accepting it, she turned the cap and took a swig. “I figured you’d be closed up tighter than a drum.”

  “Not me. Cops did what they had to do last night and that was that.”

  “Really, and what was it exactly that they did? A man died outside your business and it doesn’t appear they did much.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill him, so…”

  “Neither did I. That woman…”

  “What woman, Romee?” he asked, rubbing a tumbler dry. “You keep saying that.”

  “What woman? Mike, what…?” Romia sighed and shook her head in disbelief of his comment. “The woman who was screaming bloody murder and accusing me of the same. Surely, your memory can’t be that short,” Romia whispered, leaning in close to his face.

  “Oh, that woman,” Mike said, chuckling nervously, redrying the same tumbler as if his mind and actions were no longer working as one. “Romia, I’ve never seen her before. I noticed her when she came in. She was new. I watched her for a while, ya know, just making sure she wasn’t a hooker or anything like that. Can’t have that kind of trash in here stirring up trouble. Anyway, I watched her and it was like she was waiting for somebody, okay? Then you came in and all that ruckus with Shoni and Kel and then boom. I look up; everybody is outside and there’s been a shooting.”

  “Did you hear a shot? Did the woman come back in?”

  “I swear. She didn’t come back in. She never came back in. By the time I got everybody outta here, she was not one of them.”

  “Where did she go?”

  Mike splayed his fingers in the air as if imitating a mist dissipating. “It was like a ghost. She was gone.”

  “Damn!” Romia spat. Mike was a little taken aback by her language. Romia wasn’t one to curse.

  “How is Keliegh? He got carted off so fast I figured he was going to jail too.”

  “Nothing happened to him…I guess.”

  “Good. Would hate to see his career all messed up over…” Mike paused. Looking Romia straight in the eyes, he asked, “Did you shoot that guy, Romee? I mean, everybody is saying you did. That IA guy said you did. He called you a swerve.”

  “Swerve? What is that?”

  “Like a disgruntled postal worker, I guess. You know, a cop who finally snaps. You never heard the term? I never heard the term.”

  “Never needed to know the term, and no, I haven’t snapped.” Romia felt her blood beginning to boil. This was the second time she’d heard her mental state being questioned. Tommy had said something about it last night and now Mike was inquiring. Was everyone thinking she was crazy? She sure was starting to feel that way. Crazy.

  “Romia, everybody knows your temper. Your jacket got messed up with that little Jack Daniels and you…you got out of control and shot that guy…for nothing. It was your gun that killed him, I heard,” Mike added, looking around. “And now you’re on the lam. And, actually, I think you need to leave here before you bring the heat on me for real. That Maxwell guy said he’d have my license if I even ‘thought out loud’ about last night, let alone talk about it with anybody.”

  “Mike, come on, you know I didn’t shoot that guy. For what. Bumping me—”

  “Yeah, just like that. He got booze on that fancy jacket of yours and you lost it.”

  Smacking her lips, she readied her mouth to deny it, but then surrendered without a fight. “Yeah, well. Did you know him?”

  “No. Just like that woman. Had never seen either of them before.”

  “Dang, Mike, do better than that, gimmie something.”

  “I can’t. That guy talked to me, Romia. I can’t talk to anybody about anything. He’ll pull my liquor license and—”

  “What guy?”

  “The
IA guy, Max…”

  “Maxwell something. Yeah, been hearing that name a lot. Mike, you know everybody in this precinct and beyond. Who is that guy? Keliegh doesn’t know him. I don’t know him.”

  “Never seen him before either, but he’s good—new, I guess. But whatever he is, he got this place cleaned up in record time. Got that body outta here, questioned everybody, and, well…took care of it. I’m supposed to call him, ya know, if by chance I see you.”

  “So you knew I wasn’t in jail.” Romia sighed before looking around and then back at Mike. His eyes twinkled with the sparkle of a bad little boy. “So…have you seen me?” she asked, almost smiling, but not.

  “Not by chance.” Mike grinned, reaching down and sliding her the card that carried Maxwell’s phone number.

  “Thanks, Mike.” Romia stood, patting the bar consolingly as if it were a longtime friend. “Mike. Believe it or not, I have an alibi.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t tell you right now, it’s even crazier than thinking I shot that guy.” Romia chuckled slightly.

  Just then the door opened behind her. Mike looked over her head. “Morning, officers,” he called out loud. Romia didn’t turn around, but readied herself for whatever might happen next. Slowly, she pulled the hood of her sweat jacket over her head. Mike’s eyes met hers and she doubted for just a second whether he would be loyal to her. His smile, however, gave her the answer. She eased to the side as they approached the bar.

  “So you know we’re cops?” one of the men asked. His English was good, but his accent was foreign.

  “Been serving cops for years. Know ’em a mile away.”

  “Good. Then I guess you know the cop we’re looking for. Romia Smith. We heard she hangs out here. Have you seen her?” the other of the two men said, sounding flat. Both men had an accent that Romia wasn’t sure at first she recognized. It was familiar, but for the life of her, if she’d ever heard it before it had been years. Maybe it was one of her mother’s friends who spoke as this man did. She couldn’t remember.