In the Arms of the Law
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Deborah Fletcher Mello
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Chapter 1
Defense attorney Ellington Black surveyed the crime scene as he and his brother, Chicago Police Captain Parker Black, waited for their father to arrive on-site. What had once been a beautiful room was now spattered with blood. The sheer white curtains that framed the double windows were no longer pristine, and blood puddled on an expensive oriental rug. A silk duvet had been tossed in a corner and knickknacks that had decorated the dresser were strewn haphazardly around. Most disconcerting was the body, which lay beneath a plastic tarp on the floor. The body of district attorney Jonathan Wyler. Ellington knew Jonathan well. The two had gone up against each other in the courtroom many times and had socialized in the same circles a time or two. Now he was going cold under a sheet of blue plastic.
Ellington was there in an official capacity at his brother Parker’s request. His brother the police captain with the formidable reputation in the Chicago community had needed him. What would typically be a straightforward murder investigation was anything but, considering the prime suspect was Parker. Their father, Jerome Black, was the superintendent of police for Chicago. Whispers of a possible conflict of interest were already sweeping through the investigators on-site.
Many of the detectives in the room believed Parker had fired the shots that killed Jonathan. A domestic dispute gone awry. Ellington knew there could be no way his brother was involved. How Parker found himself in this position was mind-boggling, and Ellington had more questions for his brother than Parker probably had answers.
Forensic specialists and techs from the local crime lab were crawling through the home. The county coroner had come to claim the body. The tall, bearded man with a lazy eye pulled back the tarp, exposing the body as his camera captured every shot that had riddled the victim’s chest. Someone had emptied the clip from Parker’s department-issued Glock. Seventeen shots total had been aimed straight at Jonathan’s chest. Ellington lifted a silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pressed it to his mouth and nose. He fought the rise of bile that bubbled in his midsection, threatening to swell to the back of his throat and spew what had been a pretty decent breakfast of waffles and bacon.
Parker sat on the edge of the king-size bed, his head hanging in his hands. His gray sweats and white T-shirt were stained with Jonathan’s blood. Parker’s face was blotched from crying, and he looked as if he’d been dragged behind a bus. He was broken and his pain was like a neon sign painted across his forehead.
Per police policy, to preserve the integrity of any statement Parker might make, a uniformed patrol officer had been assigned to help monitor his well-being. The officer’s name was Michael Danube and the young man had only been with the department a few short months. He stood guard over Parker, not allowing him to move freely through the space but staying beside him if he did.
Ellington sighed as he drafted a text to his siblings and pushed the send button. There were seven Black siblings in total. He and Parker had two sisters, Vaughan and Simone, and three brothers, Armstrong, Davis and Mingus, and there was nothing they would not do for each other. Parker would need their support, now more than he had ever needed it before. Because Jonathan Wyler had been the love of Parker’s life.
Jerome Black suddenly stood in the doorway, his eyes skating around the room. A senior detective from Parker’s precinct whispered into his ear. Ellington watched his father’s expression fall as his gaze landed on his eldest son. He clenched his teeth tightly together and his jaw tightened. He was visibly distressed, and Ellington braced himself for whatever might come. Jerome hurried to Ellington’s side.
“I’m told he called you first?” their father asked curtly.
Ellington shook his head. “No, sir. He called 911 and reported finding the body first. Then he called me.”
“What was he doing here?” Jerome questioned, his voice a loud whisper.
Ellington swallowed hard. “It’s my understanding he spent the night.”
Jerome paused, seeming to take that in. He scowled and his voice dropped an octave. “How long has he...this...” He took a deep breath. “How long has this been going on?”
“For a while now, Dad,” Ellington said. “Almost two years, I think. He didn’t want you to know but he probably spent more time here than at his own town house. He and Jonathan considered this place their home.”
“Two years?” Jerome shot a look at Parker, who still sat with his head hanging, looking like he’d lost his soul.
Jerome turned back to Ellington. “Did they get into an argument? Was Parker defending himself?”
Ellington shook his head. “Parker says he was in the shower and didn’t hear the gun being fired, but when he came out of the bathroom, he found the victim shot dead on the floor. He’s adamant that he didn’t pull the trigger and he doesn’t know who did.”
Jerome swiped a large hand across his face. “Unbelievable!” he said, spitting a string of expletives past his full lips. His cell phone rang. He stole a quick glance at the caller ID, then cussed one more time. “This is your mother. I have to take this,” he said as he turned abruptly and hurried out of the room.
Ellington closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Drama continued to haunt the family, despite them doing their best to keep it at bay. In the past six months they’d had to face their parents being blackmailed and discovered that their mother had an illegitimate child and their father was the half brother of one of Chicago’s most notorious criminals. Ellington’s very pregnant sister had taken a bullet in a drive-by shooting and survived, and a family vendetta had almost taken out his baby brother. Now another family secret had been exposed and he was going to have to defend his brother against a murder charge. Ellington couldn’t help but wonder if the Black family curse was ever going to end.
When he opened his eyes, Parker was staring and their gazes met. Ellington knew that despite being lost in grief, Parker wanted to find the killer who’d taken Jonathan from him, more than he wanted anything else. Clearing his own name didn’t matter to Parker as long as Jonathan got the justice he deserved. From all the whispering going on in the room, Ellington sensed that wasn’t going to be as easy as either of them would have liked.
He moved to his brother’s side. “You going to be okay?” he asked.
“No,” Parker said.
Ellington nodded. “I get it. What can I do to help you right now?”
“I need to change. And I need to get out of this room.” He tossed a glance to the body on the floor and his eyes misted. He looked back toward Ellington. “What did Dad say?” he questioned.
“Not much. But I’m sure it’s coming. You need to ready yourself for the hurricane that is our father.”
“This was not how I wanted him to find out I’m gay,” Parker muttered.
Ellington shrugged his broad shoulders in sympathy but said nothing.
Jerome reentered the room, joining the two of them. Seemingly oblivious to his son’s pain, he did what he did best and snapped orders. Being a father suddenly came second to being the superintendent of police. The moment was awkward, and Ellington could nearly feel his brother’s discomfort.
“Any police-involved shooting follows strict protocols. The investigators need your clothes. Then you need to give an official statement down at the station. Right now, you’re not under arrest, but that could change. I’ve already notified the district attorney’s office. The deputy district attorney and a special investigator are already en route and should be here any minute now. Their investigation will be independent from the department’s. In fact, there will be overlapping investigations and you need to prepare yourself to face a barrage of questions coming at you from different directions.”
Jerome tossed a look over his shoulder, turning his back to Officer Danube. His voice low, he continued, “You don’t talk to anyone or make any statements without Ellington. You have officially invoked your right against self-incrimination. Is that clear?”
Ellington and Parker both nodded. They knew the drill. Parker’s refusal to provide a voluntary statement to detectives meant his statement couldn’t be used against him in court. However, he would be compelled to make a statement that could only be used for the internal administrative investigation. He would be asked to file a police report and to put his statements in writing in the presence of his attorney.
“I didn’t do this,” Parker responded. “I didn’t kill Jon. I loved him.”
Father and son stared at each other, and Ellington looked from one to the other. It looked like the large vein that pulsed in their father’s neck might burst. Parker bristled, fighting back tears. Ellington could feel a kettle of emotion simmering and he knew it was only a matter of time before it blew. He took a step between them and gestured toward the bathroom with his head.
“Change. I’ll drive you to the station,” he said.
Jerome stared at Ellington as he gestured to the officer who stood off to the side, the man’s hands folded politely in front of him. “Officer Danube will have to do it. You can follow him there. Danube doesn’t leave Parker’s side until I say so, is that understood? The first thing they’ll question is what we did and didn’t allow him to do.”
Ellington nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Without saying another word to either of them Jerome made his exit, stopping to give a long list of directives to the homicide detail detectives and field supervisors. A second uniformed officer followed Parker into the bathroom and Ellington knew the man would stay by his brother’s side until he collected the clothing that would be used as evidence against Parker if this went to trial. They were ensuring a clean chain of custody.
Ellington waited until the officer exited the room, carrying a plastic bag that contained the garments Parker had just discarded. Minutes later Parker stepped out wearing denim jeans and a plaid button-up shirt. With one last look at the investigator gathering samples, he practically ran from the bedroom, Danube on his heels.
The brothers found their father standing in the living room. He held a silver-framed photo in his hand. Parker brushed past him, heading straight for the front door. Ellington paused, glancing over Jerome’s shoulder. The eight-by-ten photograph had been taken on Parker’s last vacation: he and Jonathan posed side by side, cheek to cheek in Aruba.
Ellington tapped his father’s shoulder as the patriarch rested the photograph back where he’d found it. The two exchanged a look but said nothing to each other. Outside, Parker leaned against a patrol car. Officer Danube slid into the driver’s seat. Ellington moved to the driver’s side of his luxury Mercedes. As he disengaged the door lock and pulled open the door, Ellington heard Jerome call Parker’s name. He turned.
“Yes, sir?” Parker answered.
“It’s going to be okay, son,” Jerome said. “Trust and believe, we’re going to get you through this.”
Turning back to his own car Ellington slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He appreciated his father’s efforts to show Parker some compassion. He only wished he was as confident about things being okay.
Special Agent Angela Stanfield wearing heels was proving to be a problem for everyone except Angela. Before she’d even made it to the front door, two officers had commented on the four-inch Jimmy Choo stilettos she sported, as if investigating a murder in a high-end home necessitated flat-footed brogans to be successful. Her frustration with men questioning her abilities was palpable as she arrived at the South Clark Street home. So much so she almost missed the three men standing together at the end of the driveway. Almost.
There was no missing the family resemblance. Clearly, they were related. Each stood well over six feet, the younger two with lukewarm complexions that were a rich tawny with just the barest hint of the older man’s mahogany hue. They had the same chiseled features—sculpted cheekbones and strong jawlines, solid builds and broad chests and shoulders. Two wore suits, while the third was dressed more casually. Her mother would have called them pretty and they were. But one, his expression less strained, caught her attention and held it. Concern blanketed his face, not the anger and sadness that painted the countenance of the other two. There was an air of determination in his eyes that seemed to indicate he was the rock others leaned on. He was handsome but she didn’t get the sense that he knew it. He had a magnificent presence and she imagined that in a crowd he stood out easily.
She watched them enter their respective cars, one riding in a police patrol vehicle with a uniformed officer. She was curious to know how they were related to her case and stared until they pulled out of the driveway and rounded the corner at the end of the block. She turned her attention back to the property the men had just vacated.
The pristine South Loop gem was tucked away in secluded Dearborn Park. A gorgeous tree-lined courtyard led to the front door that had been painted a vibrant shade of fire-engine red. As Angela stepped over the threshold, she became acutely aware of the tension through the space, the investigative team all seeming to walk on eggshells. A detective from the local precinct rushed forward to greet her, his hand extended to shake hers.
“Special Agent Stanfield, it’s a pleasure. I’m Detective Mike Caswell.”
“Detective Caswell, thanks for the warm welcome.”
“Under the circumstances, we appreciate an unbiased eye on this case.”
“What do we have?” Angela questioned.
“The primary suspect is one of our own. My captain, Parker Black. His father, Jerome Black, is also the superintendent. You just missed them both, as a matter of fact. The victim was a lawyer with the district attorney’s office. Apparently, he and Captain Black had a relationship.”
Angela didn’t miss the snark wrapped around the man’s tone. Nor did she miss the snide comments and hushed chortles from the other officers in the room. She could only imagine the boys’ club jokes and flagrant bigotry she’d been blessed to miss. That narrow-minded ignorance only served to further fuel her disdain for some of the men she often found herself working with.
A moment of recognition washed over her, but she didn’t bother to mention that she and Parker had met briefly once at a conference for law enforcement officials. She pushed both hands into the pockets of her trench coat. “I need your people to clear the area for me. I need fifteen minutes.”
Caswell frowned. “We’re still collecting evidence...” he started.
“And that’s fine. You’ll be able to go right back to it. I just need to assess the space without the noise and commotion. I promise, I won’t take long,” she said, giving him a bright smile. “And I’m sure your boys will appreciate a break. No doubt it’s been a long morning for them.”
Caswell nodded. “Yeah, we could use a few minutes.”
“And any samples your people have taken need to go to the state crime lab,” she stated.
“But we have a good facility...”
“Under the jurisdiction of your superintendent. Which someone could claim is compromised if you proceed to trial against his son. There’s no point in taking that risk if we can get clean test results from the start. But we can talk more when I’m finished here,” she said, effectively dismissing him.
Caswell nodded. His eyes narrowed and Angela felt it was on the tip of his tongue to challenge her, but he didn’t, instead turning an about-face to scurry toward the other side of the room.
Minutes later, Angela stood in the quiet of the space. Someone’s taste was minimalistic and decidedly masculine. The colors were muted but warm. Hardwoods were prominent and the space felt extremely comfortable. The decor was simple, and pictures of family and friends decorated the shelves and tabletops. There were multiple photos of the two men, and she saw they had traveled often. They had been a pretty couple, smiling and happy. Much love had filled their home.
In the kitchen, a pot of coffee had brewed on schedule, two empty cups resting beside it. Someone had left a container of eggs and pack of bacon on the counter. She opened the refrigerator door. Foodstuffs were stacked neatly on the shelves and from the contents she fathomed one or both had loved to cook. There was a whole chicken marinating in a stoneware bowl that fit into a five-quart Crock-Pot, which rested on the stove top. It was clear that someone had already planned dinner.
She moved from the kitchen to a spare room that had become a home office. Two identical desks faced each other, matching executive chairs on either side. Law briefs rested on top of one desk, and criminal files on the other. The file folders were all neatly labeled, by someone meticulous, thorough and maybe even a tad anal. Angela flipped through the pile in the center of the desk. She opened the desk drawer, noting the folders lined neatly inside. The space revealed both men occasionally worked from home and seemingly worked well together.
She moved into the master bedroom, pausing at the door to take in the whole room. The body hadn’t been removed and rigor mortis was beginning to set in. The shots had been fired at close range. The first two or three had knocked him to the floor. The rest had been fired as someone stood above him, intent on finishing what had been started. The shooting felt very personal, a crime of passion for some perceived offense. Or overkill to just make it look that way.
A box of condoms rested on one nightstand and there was an empty bottle of wine with one empty glass on a wicker tray. One of them had drank the night before, she thought, the other hadn’t. A Breitling Navitimer wristwatch, a contact lens case and a Stephen King novel rested on the other nightstand. A pair of men’s briefs lay on the floor at the foot of the bed and a black silk worsted wool suit hung on the back of the closet door. A dresser drawer was open and a silk necktie hung haphazardly from inside. Multiple cologne bottles and a boar bristle brush had also been knocked to the floor. They had been dressing, getting ready to start their day, when things went left for them.
Angela stepped past the body and eased into the bathroom. Water dripped from the shower faucet. The last person inside had dropped the bar of soap and it was now a softened mess resting over the drain. White towels had been kicked into a corner and an electric razor had fallen into the sink.
Back in the bedroom she took one last look around. There was an oversize fireplace with a heavy mantel that held more pictures as well as a gold trophy. She moved closer to read the inscription engraved in the nameplate. A personal dedication from Jonathan to Parker and signed with a heart spoke volumes about their relationship. They had been head over heels in love. So why, Angela wondered, did Parker Black shoot his lover? And if he didn’t do it, who did?
She was making her exit just as Detective Caswell was reentering the home.
“You’re leaving?” he asked.
Angela nodded. “For now. I’ll be at the police station if you need me. Meanwhile get me a list of all the forensics and make sure you date and time stamp everything you transfer to the lab. We wouldn’t want this case derailed because someone made a rookie mistake.”
Ellington stood with his back pressed tight to the concrete wall. His hands were pushed deep into his pants pockets. He had stepped out of the interrogation room to field a call, Parker assuring him that all would be well until he returned. Now he just needed a minute to think it all through. His brother had consented to a sobriety test and a gunpowder residue swab. Neither had any doubts about him passing both, which would force the police department’s hand. They would have to consider another suspect or dig in their heels to prove Parker was guilty and somehow gaming the system. Both had known too many men railroaded by cops determined to override fact with fiction of their own making, an arrest and conviction being more important than the truth.
Ellington saw her well before she saw him, roused to attention by the woman standing at the front desk. She was long and lean with legs that seemed miles high. She wore a form-fitting, gray, plaid pencil skirt with a matching blazer and white dress shirt. Her stiletto heels were a vibrant shade of burgundy red, and she was stunning! Box braids had been twisted into a high bun atop her head and her ebony skin tone was complemented by glossy red lips. She’d captured the attention of everyone in the room, people pausing to stare as she commanded the space. The woman had a regal presence, and as he watched her, Ellington wanted to know more.
Ellington stood taller, and as he pulled his suit jacket closed, brushing a spot of lint from the lapel, she spied him out of the corner of her eye. There was a hint of recognition, and her gaze was curious as she looked him up and down and then up a second time. Then just like that, she turned in the opposite direction, following an officer who’d come to escort her to the other side of the building. She blessed him with one last glance over her shoulder and then she was gone.
He moved to the front desk and the female officer who was monitoring walk-ins and phones. Officer Maxine Jenkins had been employed with the Chicago Police Department for as long as Ellington could remember. She’d watched him and his siblings grow up and there was no denying her loyalty to his father and his brothers. She was a buxom woman, the top buttons of her uniform pulled taut against her full chest. Her closely cropped hairdo was winter white, the gray strands having taken a firm hold of her head for the past ten years. Her smile pulled from ear to ear as he stood before her.
“No, I can’t go out with you, Attorney Black,” she said teasingly. “I’m old enough to be your mother. Maybe even your grandmother!”
Ellington laughed. “You keep breaking my heart, Officer Jenkins.”
“I know. I hate turning down all you good-looking men, but someone’s got to do it.”
“Well, since you won’t have anything to do with me, maybe you can tell me the name of that beautiful woman who was just here?”
She grunted, “Humph! You’re just like all the others! Can’t trust you as far as I can throw you. It didn’t take you any time at all to move on and start chasing after someone else. And all this time I thought you loved me!” She shook her head.
Ellington shrugged. “I was simply curious. She looked familiar. You know you’ll always have my heart!”
Officer Jenkins laughed. “You lie so sweetly! You know full well that woman wasn’t familiar!”
Ellington laughed with her as he leaned across the desk. “So, are you going to help a brother out?”
The woman rolled her eyes skyward. She leaned toward him, her voice dropping. “She’s with the mayor’s office. She’s here to see your father. Her name’s Angela Stanfield.”
“The mayor’s office?”
Officer Jenkins nodded. “A special investigator assigned to your brother’s case.”
Ellington’s eyes danced from side to side, suddenly sensing this woman’s presence was not at all good for any of them. He tapped the older woman’s hands.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Anytime, baby,” she answered as she winked an eye at him.
Ellington moved back to where he’d been standing, resuming his lean against the wall. Minutes passed, people coming and going as he waited. When his phone rang, it surprised him as he grabbed it from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. His father’s photograph appeared on the cell phone screen. He took a deep breath before answering it.
“Where are you?” Jerome questioned, not bothering to say hello.
“Still here at the station. Waiting to take Parker home.”
“Home?”
“Probably to my house. Or yours.”
“I need you to join me for lunch with the mayor.”
“What’s going on?”
His father’s voice dropped slightly. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Ellington disconnected the call, the phone rang a second time. This time it was his mother on the line, her face smiling up at him from the screen in the palm of his hand.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Hey, son! Where’s your brother?”
“He’s here.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s been better.”
“He needs to come here when you’re done. Your father said they’re not going to hold him, so I want him to come home. He shouldn’t be alone.”
“I agree. I’ll talk to him and see what he says.”
“Tell him I’m not asking. I’ll see you both soon.”
Ellington chuckled softly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let him know.”
The door to the room suddenly flew open, a technician hurrying out of the space. When Ellington entered, Parker sat at the table, staring off into space.
“Everything okay?” Ellington asked.
“Why do people keep asking me that?”
Ellington shrugged. “Probably because we don’t know what else to say.”
“Well, nothing’s okay. And I don’t know if anything will ever be okay again.”
Ellington stared. He understood his brother’s loss was monumental and he would have done anything to help him get through it. He just didn’t have a clue what that should be.
“We’re done here. They’ve opted not to hold you pending the results of those tests. But you’ve been officially relieved of duty until further notice. Your weapon is currently being held as evidence and you’ll need to hand in your badge.”
“Dad pulling strings again?”
“Professional courtesy. Too many questions that don’t make this a cut-and-dried case.”
“I need to figure out who did this.”
“We will. Until then you need to take some time to grieve.”
“I need to call Jon’s mother. She doesn’t know...”
Ellington shook his head. “The family’s been notified.”
Parker stood up abruptly. “I should go see her.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t kill him!” he shouted, his voice rising an octave.
“And it’s still not a good idea, under the circumstances. Let Mom reach out on your behalf.”
“He wanted to be cremated,” Parker said, his voice dropping back to normal. “And there needs to be a memorial service. We have friends that need to be called and...”
“Let Mom help,” Ellington said, interrupting his thoughts. “She’s waiting for you. I told her I’d drop you off at the house.”
“I need to go back to Jon’s...”
“It’s a crime scene, Parker. You can’t.”
Parker seemed to deflate before his brother’s eyes, his energy waning and every ounce of fortitude gushing from him like air from a popped balloon. He was a broken man, barely holding himself together, and it hurt Ellington to his core to see him that way.
Ellington reached out to hug him as Parker fought back a low sob trapped in the back of his throat. Ellington sensed he wanted to wail but was conscious of where he was and who might be listening. Instead, the two just held tight to each other, minutes passing before either considered letting go.
“Mom will send out a search party if I don’t get you home soon,” Ellington finally said. “It’ll be okay once you get to the house and Mom can love on you some.”
Parker nodded. “Do you really believe that?”
Ellington smiled. “No, but it sounded good,” he said as he led the way and his brother followed.
