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The Final Judgement
Cinnamon
John Munch sat in his chair, took a big gulp of coffee, and spoke. "Do you like fishing, Meldrick?"
"You know this here pigskin is my thang, Munchkin," Lewis tossed his football above himself, making it spin in the air.
"But you work Homicide, Meldrick, you have to like fishing. We," Munch waved his hand around the room, scanning his fellow detectives. "We are fishermen. We come here, to our lake, and sit here, in our respective boats, hoping to get a bite and catch a really big fish. But most of the time, at the end of the day, we end up wishing we could just throw the fish back."
"Ain't there some sayin' or somethin' 'bout a bad day-a fishin' bein' better than a good day-a workin'?" Lewis grinned, and the phone bleated. "Hey, hey, Munchkin, looks like we got a bite!"
***
Munch and Lewis ran into Bayliss and Pembleton on the way to the car.
"Hey, fellas, what'd you catch?" Tim hollered to his colleagues.
Lewis chuckled and Munch answered. "Meldrick here is going to be the primary on a beating and strangulation. You?"
Pembleton shook his hands in front of himself. "Nothing too spectacular. Just a good, old-fashioned gang-related shooting."
"Now why do folks gotta be killin' each other on a Saturday mornin' like this?" Lewis slipped on his sunglasses as they walked outside.
"People's attention spans are getting shorter, Meldrick. It's a proven fact. I read in a magazine that--"
Tim interrupted John. "Yeah, we're leaving. Have a good one, guys." Bayliss and Pembleton headed in one direction, Lewis and Munch in another.
"Yeah, see y'all later."
***
"Are you reading, Bayliss?" For a Saturday morning traffic was thick, and Frank was trying to keep his eyes on the road.
Tim waved his magazine in Pembleton's face. "What do you think, Frank?"
Pembleton smacked Bayliss' arm. "Cut it out, Tim! I can't see. So what are you reading?"
Bayliss mumbled a response.
"Louder, Tim. What are you reading?"
"GQ."
"GQ?" Pembleton raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, GQ. What's your problem, Frank?"
"No problem, Tim. I just don't see you as a GQ-reading kind of fellow."
Tim reopened the magazine and began flipping the pages. "I found it in the locker room; I think it's Brodie's."
Pembleton turned a corner and looked at Bayliss from the corner of his eye. "How can you do that? Read in the car."
"What, you can't read in the car?" Tim asked, surprised.
"Oh, no no no. It gives me a headache, makes my stomach crazy."
"Huh. I never knew that about you, Frank." Bayliss placed the magazine in his lap and shifted in his seat to look at his partner. "Don't you find it fascinating that we spend so much time with certain people, and yet we are constantly learning things about them?"
"Fascinating is not the word I would have picked. Why do you think it's necessary for you to know everything about me?"
Tim shifted again and looked forward. "I don't think I have to know everything about you, Frank. I was just commenting that I never knew you got carsick reading before." He found a cologne sample in the magazine and opened it. "This smells great. Here, Frank, smell it."
"Goddammit, Tim, get that magazine out of my face." Once again, the magazine was obstructing Frank's view.
"You don't like it?" Bayliss took the magazine back and sniffed the sample again.
"I think it smells like shit, Bayliss." Pembleton made a face, and pulled into the parking lot where their victim was lying sprawled on the cement.
Getting out of the car, Tim commented, "This is the Roh grocery. What was the Roh grocery, anyway. This is what, the third time we've been down here?"
Pembleton shut his door. "Welcome to the bad part of town...what's what here, people?"
Dr. Alyssa Dyer walked up to Frank, as did a uniformed police officer. The cop spoke first. "Dead kid, no ID, got shot, no witnesses."
Both Frank and Tim had noticed there was no crowd gathered around the crime scene. "How long's the kid been dead?"
"Not long -- couple, three hours maybe." Dyer had already assessed the victim.
Pembleton looked at his watch and noted the time as 9:37 am.
"Who called it in?" Bayliss asked.
The cop raised his hand. "I was driving past and saw the body."
Bayliss and Pembleton ducked under the tape and began examining the crime scene. What Pembleton noticed more than anything was a boy, no more than ten years old, riding his bicycle up and down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the parking lot. Frank drew himself a little picture of the crime scene, noted the shell casings from the bullets, and bagged the victim's hands, but he kept noticing the boy. Finally, Frank spoke to him.
"Hey, son, what are you doing?" Frank placed his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the glare of the sun.
"Ridin' my bike," the kid replied, and continued to ride in circles and figure eights.
"Well, we're conducting an investigation here, son, you can't be hanging around here."
"Am I in your way or something?" The kid peddled up to the yellow police tape and stopped. He looked at Frank, then at Tim, then at Frank again.
For some reason, the boy made Pembleton nervous. "Um... well, no," he answered truthfully.
The kid turned his bike around and began riding in lazy patterns on the asphalt. "OK, then, if I ain't bothering you, I'll stay."
Bayliss ducked under the tape and walked towards the child. "You ride your bike here a lot?"
"Sometimes," the kid circled Tim.
"You been riding here all morning?" Tim ended up making circles himself, constantly turning to always face the boy.
"Mm-hmm."
Frank and Tim exchanged glances. "Since what time?" Frank ducked under the tape, too, and stood next to his partner.
"I dunno. I got up to watch cartoons, but the TV's busted, so I got on my bike instead." The boy had stopped the circling, and was now straddling his bike, facing Bayliss and Pembleton.
"You like the Road Runner?" With two small children, Pembleton was somewhat of a cartoon expert.
"I guess. I got up to watch Mighty Mouse, though. He's my favorite. Here I come to save the day!" The boy began lifted his kickstand, and began peddling on the parking lot in hard, fast patterns.
"So you got up around 6:30," Tim said to the kid, a statement of fact instead of a question.
The boy thought for a moment. "Yup."
"And you came down here right after that?"
"Yup."
"Did you see what happened here, son?"
"Yup."
Frank stepped forward and knelt in front of the child and his bike. "You saw that man get shot?"
"Yup."
Pembleton looked over his shoulder at Bayliss. "Would you like to come for a ride in our car? Maybe answer some questions for us?"
"'Bout the killin'?" The boy ran his tongue across his top row of teeth, something he had seen Frank do. "I guess."
Bayliss put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't we go to your house first? So you can take your bike home and we tell your mom what's going on, OK?"
The boy nodded. "That's OK, but my mom's at work, so it don't matter where I go."
Frank shook his head. "Well, let's just go, OK?" He grabbed the boy's bike and put it in the trunk of the Cavalier.
Bayliss walked with the kid to the car. "My name is Tim, and that's Frank." He extended his hand and the boy shook it.
"My name's Merlin."
"Merlin, huh? Like the magician?"
"What?" Merlin scowled.
"Merlin the magician."
"Who?" The boy gave Bayliss a look that made Tim laugh.
"Never mind."
***
John Munch pulled into the Hillside Ridge apartment complex parking lot and Meldrick Lewis stepped out of the car. The driver, however, stayed inside.
"Hey, Munch!" Lewis rapped on the passenger window of the car. "What are you doin', man? Get out the car!"
Munch seemed oblivious to Lewis' words, so Meldrick opened the passenger door and stuck his head inside. "What the hell are you doin'?!"
"I am trying to listen to this song, Meldrick," Munch was obviously irritated.
"This song here?" Lewis took a seat.
"Yes, this song that's on the radio right now," Munch turned up the volume.
"Now I can get my groove to this," Lewis said, taking off his hat. "My heart belongs to Teddy, but I can handle Al Green... I didn't think you liked Al Green, Munch."
"I don't; Faith does."
"'Let's Stay Together', man. Your woman likes this kinda music? You got yourself a good sorta woman, Munchkin."
Lewis heard a tapping on his window and saw a uniformed officer standing there. "You guys planning to come inside, or...?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. The vic ain't goin' nowhere, is she?" Lewis grudgingly smacked the radio quiet.
"She's making dinner for me tonight, Meldrick. Do you believe that? She's making dinner for me." Munch opened his door.
"Who?" Lewis put his hat back on.
"Who what?"
"What?"
"What?"
"Who is making you dinner?" Meldrick slammed his door shut.
"Faith is, Meldrick. My girlfriend? The greatest kisser this side of the Mississippi? The woman we were just talking about?" Munch looked down his nose, over the tops of his glasses, at Meldrick. "Ring a bell?"
The two detectives began walking to the building. At the same time, Julianna Cox's car flew into the space next to Lewis and Munch's Cavalier, and missed hitting John by mere inches.
"Do you even have a driver's license, Julie C?" Lewis chuckled.
Cox flashed a sheepish grin towards Munch. "Sorry, John."
Munch turned around and walked backwards so he could face Lewis and Cox as he spoke to them. "I wonder which of you is the worse driver."
Julianna laughed. "I don't know, I think Meldrick has me beat on that one. I've never hit the ME's van."
"Nah, Dr. Bones, you just run over detectives."
"Oh, Meldrick, come on. I didn't actually hit Munch..."
The banter continued until the three reached Laura Bray's apartment. Everything in the apartment was in disarray.
"Either this lady was a lousy housekeeper--" Munch began.
"Or she put up one hell of a fight," Lewis finished for him, somberly looking around.
A cherry wood end table next to the door was still standing, but two of the three silver candlesticks that presumedly sat upon the table were knocked over; the third was bloody and about 40 feet away on the floor. A paper bag printed with the name of a local grocery store chain was lying on its side, with a few canned goods poking out of the top. A gallon of milk was spilled, a dozen eggs were strewn about the carpet, and a head of lettuce was under the dining room table, next to a white shoe. The couch was flipped onto its back, and a shattered lamp was on the floor, with its cord wrapped around Laura Bray's neck. Bray's face was blood-soaked and her eyes were both swollen shut; her lower lip was completely split, so much so Lewis could see her entire bottom row of teeth through the breaking in her skin. Her left shoe was completely gone, her white skirt and pantyhose were down around her knees, and a used condom had been tossed onto her stomach. Bray's white blouse was a mixture of spillage from the condom and her own blood.
"She was a nurse," Cox came up behind Lewis.
"Oh yeah?"
Julianna nodded. "That woman over there?" She pointed to a gray-haired lady crying softly into a blue Kleenex. "Thought I was a detective. She grabbed my arm when I walked in. That lady lives the next apartment over, heard screams and called the police. She told me your victim worked at a nursing home, the 10-6 shift. Best the neighbor can figure, Laura Bray had breakfast out somewhere, stopped to get some groceries, came home, and got killed."
"Hey Meldrick, I talked to the neighbor--" Munch walked over, pen and tiny notebook in hand.
"Yeah, Munch, Julie C told me."
"You?"
Again, Cox looked sheepish. "Guilty."
"Nice detective work, Dr. Cox. I think you missed your calling."
***
"He left the condom there?" Kay Howard sipped her tea and sat at the corner of Munch's desk.
Munch nodded. "This idiot will be making the rounds in one of those 'Stupidest Criminals' lists before too long."
"Robert Dwayne Henderson, AKA Robbie Dwayne, AKA RD," Lewis tossed a computer printout in front of Munch.
"He has a record?"
"Sure does. Our little Robbie Dwayne is 34 years of age, and he's spent the most of his adulthood behind the lovely gray bars of the Maryland State Penitentiary on rape charges," Lewis snorted. "Bastard jus' got out in February."
"So where is God's gift to women currently residing?" Munch stood.
Lewis flicked the picture of RD that he was holding. "Sheet there says no known address."
Munch shrugged into his suit jacket. "He shouldn't be too hard to find."
"Yeah," Kay patted Meldrick on the back. "There are so few lowlifes on the streets of Baltimore these days, hmm?"
***
Frank stopped the Cavalier in front of a run-down rowhouse and retrieved Merlin's bicycle from the trunk.
"Tim!" Pembleton pounded three times on the car door. "You comin'?"
Bayliss shook his head. "No, Frank, I'm staying here." He opened the GQ again. "My back is giving me some more trouble."
"You still sitting on your wallet?" Frank turned to Merlin. "You ready to go, buddy?"
"Yeah."
***
"What's your last name, Merlin?" Tim asked as he, Pembleton and the boy walked up the large staircase at the police station.
"Dupri."
"Merlin Dupri, huh?"
"Yup."
"You got a middle name, Merlin Dupri?" Frank liked this kid. He wasn't sure why, but somehow he felt a connection with the boy.
"Nope." Merlin spotted Meldrick's football on the desk and ran to grab it. "Catch, Detective Frank!"
Pembleton caught Merlin's pass and threw it back easily. "You got a good arm on you, son."
Merlin tossed the football to Bayliss. "Thanks."
Tim caught the ball and placed it back on Lewis' desk. "What do you say we go talk now, okay?"
Merlin shrugged. "All right."
"Right this way," Bayliss placed a guiding hand on Merlin's back and opened the door to the Box. Instead of seating Merlin in a chair, Tim told Merlin that he could sit on the table.
"Where'd Detective Frank go?" Merlin asked, scooting to comfortability on the tabletop.
"Frank?" Tim grabbed two chairs and set them up so he and Pembleton could sit facing Merlin. "I think he went to get you a soda."
"Hope it ain't one of them flavored sodas. Them's nasty." Merlin crinkled his nose.
"I'm sure Frank will get you something good."
"Do you like Pepsi?" Pembleton opened the door and held the can of soda out to Merlin; he kept his other hand behind his back.
"Yeah!" Merlin took the soda from Frank and took two big gulps.
"How about chocolate donuts? You like chocolate donuts?"
"You got donuts?!" Merlin's eyes widened.
"We sure do," Pembleton revealed his other hand, with a chocolate donut on his palm. "Would you like one?"
"Can I really have it?" Merlin took another drink of Pepsi.
"I brought it for you," Frank handed the donut to the boy; Merlin ate it in three bites.
"Can I have another one?" He asked, mouth full.
"In a little bit," Frank laughed and sat down. "You said earlier that you saw what happened in that parking lot."
"The shooting?"
"Yeah. Did you see that?"
Merlin nodded wordlessly.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
"Well," Merlin paused. "Scooter came up and shot Ardnow."
"Scooter is...?"
"The guy who shot Ardnow," Merlin looked at Bayliss and Pembleton, eyebrows wrinkled. "Didn't I say that?"
Tim smiled. "Yeah, you did. How do you know Scooter?"
"He's my brother."
"Your brother?" Frank sat up a little straighter.
"Yeah," Merlin sat Indian-style on the table and took another gulp of Pepsi. "Why y'all gotta be repeating whatever I say?"
"Habit," Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Your brother shot that man in the parking lot?"
"Yeah, Scooter shot him. Shot him a lot."
"A lot? What's that mean?"
"Shot him four times, I think. Coulda been five."
"And you watched your brother shoot...Ardnow, is that right?"
Again, Merlin was silent as he nodded.
Frank and Tim exchanged glances. "Did your brother know you were there, Merlin?"
"Dunno. I guess he coulda seen me." Merlin drained his Pepsi can.
"Does your brother live at home with you and your mom?" Tim shifted in his chair.
"Nah, Scooter been gone since last summer."
Pembleton and Bayliss determined that neither Merlin nor his mother had any idea where Scooter was living, so they decided to go out searching for him. Scooter Dupri had been arrested once before, so they made a copy of his mug shot and hit the streets. First, though, they had to figure out what to do with Merlin.
"Hey, Sarge, wanna do me a favor?" Frank tossed the Pepsi can into the trash and cornered Kay Howard.
"What?" Howard's eyes narrowed into wary slits.
"Can you keep an eye on this kid for awhile? He's my shooting witness, and there's no one at his house to watch him now."
Howard didn't want to say yes, but she didn't have a reason to say no.
Impulsively, Frank leaned out and kissed Kay on the cheek. "Kay, this is Merlin."
The two shook hands. "Would you like to go watch TV in the coffee room?" Kay asked him.
"Is that where you keep the donuts?"
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