Darkness Descending: A Mimi Patterson/Gianna Maglione Mystery (The Mimi Patterson/Gianna Maglione Mysteries) Read online

  Marlene sniffed and pushed Terry away. “That’s what you really want to do is go look at naked women. You are so predictable.”

  The line outside The Snatch was predictable, too. At eleven o’clock the club was packed and the line snaked around the corner. Darlene had already called inside to Dee to have her activate the motion detector lights, but she still was worried. The crowd tonight was edgy. She could feel it. Instead of last night’s murder being a deterrent, it had had the opposite effect. Saturday night usually was the biggest crowd but tonight’s was unlike anything she’d ever seen. As she’d promised Cassie she would do, she waved her wand over everybody who entered the club, and had confiscated more knives and guns than she could keep track of, more than the lead bartender could safely store in the milk crate under the ice bin. She’d called Darlene a few minutes ago to say no more weapons.

  “You gotta lock that piece in your car or something,” Darlene growled to the tiny little dude glowering up at her. “You know you can’t come in here with that.”

  “Then you keep it for me ‘til I get ready to go.” It came as an order and not a request, which annoyed Darlene even more.

  “Not my job to keep it for you. Next in line.”

  The little dude was fast but Darlene the Dangerous was faster. She caught the gun half an inch from the side of her face in one hand. The other, in a fist, found her would-be assailant’s mid-section in a tight, hard jab, and the tiny little dude’s knees buckled. “Damn, man” she said, as Darlene shoved her gently out on to the sidewalk so she could puke. Darlene kept the piece.

  “Next in line,” Darlene repeated in her quiet voice, but it sounded like a shout. Or a prayer. “And before you get to me, if you got a weapon, get outta line and take it somewhere else. I can’t stash no more.”

  The engine missed badly and loudly as the canary yellow Chevy SS roared down the street. The radio and the horn blared, and something was yelled out the window but Darlene couldn’t make out what it was. The car was gone, however, and she was about to dismiss the event when a second car, a metallic blue Pontiac GTO, pulled up at the curb and slowed to a crawl. “Aw fuck,” she said. That was enough. Everybody in line turned to look at the GTO, to look at the men inside it. Then the yellow Chevy roared back down the street. Darlene lifted her shirt and withdrew her SIG Sauer 9mm from the waistband of her pants. Half the ladies in her line scattered. The other half drew their own weapons. The Chevy and the Pontiac burned rubber peeling off, the Chevy’s engine skipping like a school girl down the street.

  Darlene watched them go, then called Dee and told her what happened. Then she took a card from her pocket, stared at it for a moment, and made another call.

  Gianna had been asleep for exactly eighty-six minutes when the phone rang. She answered it in the middle of the second ring, wide awake and alert. She sat up, frowning, as the Dispatch Operator asked if she’d accept an emergency call from somebody named Darlene at something called Snatch. “Put her through,” Gianna said, getting out of bed, as if the bad feeling she was having would go away if she was standing up instead of laying down.

  “Is that you, Lieutenant?” she heard Darlene’s controlled voice on the verge of losing control.

  “What’s wrong, Darlene?”

  “Did you mean what you said last night, about helping us out if there was any trouble?” Darlene was officially frantic at this point.

  Gianna gave full reign to the bad feeling. “Yes, I meant it.”

  “Then you better get over before somebody gets killed,” Darlene said.

  Gianna switched off the phone and dropped it back into its cradle, then picked it up again and called Eric. She looked at the deeply sleeping Mimi, trying to decide whether to wake her. Unlike herself, Mimi did not awaken easily or gracefully in the middle of the night.

  “Go ‘way...” Mimi mumbled when Gianna shook her. “Leave me alone.”

  “Don’t you want to go to a rumble at the Snatch?”

  On the drive down and across town from where she lived in Silver Spring to the lower part of Northwest D.C., Mimi slept and Gianna worked the phone. Her team would meet her on the scene, they’d assess the situation and decide whether to call in reinforcements. They’d operate low-key for as long as they could. Nothing like a phalanx of cops in riot gear to incite an already edgy crowd. Darlene was cryptic, acerbic, and borderline scared, and Darlene scared terrified Gianna. Shots had been fired, Darlene said, and unless somebody did something to stop it, more shots would be fired. Cars full of evil, nasty men cruising up and down, up and down the street. “They got to stop it,” Darlene said ominously. The real danger, however, lay in the fact that men had penetrated her line and gotten into the club. One had been beaten senseless and tossed out the door and then kicked into the street, where his friends in one of the passing cars had picked him up, and the crowd inside was on the lookout for other imposters. Things were getting ugly in the line outside, too: Pants and shirts were being checked for the presence of dicks and the absence of breasts.

  Gianna put the bubble on top of the car and gave the siren a quick twirl, startling Mimi awake, as well as the driver of the car in front of her. It was early enough that most of the drivers still were awake and alert enough that the flashing light behind them was sufficient to clear the street. From a block away, Gianna could see that the line to get into The Snatch still stretched around the corner.

  “Let me off here,” Mimi said, opening the door and scooting out while the unmarked sedan still rolled. Nothing to be gained by being identified as having arrived with the cops.

  Gianna saw Linda Lopez talking to Darlene as she pulled up to the front door. The others would be nearby. She parked the car and got out, greeted by catcalls that were only half-heartedly hostile, probably because, Gianna thought, she was remembered from last night. At least she hoped so. “Where’s Eric?” she asked Linda.

  “He’s inside with Miss Phillips. Bobby and Cassie are cruising around in Eric’s SUV, and Tim and Kenny are parked in an unmarked two blocks away.”

  Gianna looked at her watch. The first show would begin in six minutes. If there were any men inside that club...She flipped open her phone and called Eric. “I’m outside. Stay in the office with Miss Phillips and watch the floor from the closed circuit cameras. Come out only to prevent a murder.” She shut the phone then sidled up close to Darlene to whisper in her ear. “How much chance there’s another man in there, Darlene?”

  “I been over that in my mind a million times, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s possible there’s two more, real baby-faced looking fuckers. Short, thin, one of ‘em’s wearing glasses, gold rimmed, both have earrings.”

  “But not armed?”

  Darlene shook her head. “No way. Everybody got wanded tonight. The only weapons inside there are the ones I confiscated.”

  Gianna’s eye twitched with the effort not to betray her anger “There are contraband weapons in there? How many and what kind and where?”

  “Behind the bar, in a crate under the ice bin. Eight or nine handguns and maybe a dozen switchblades,” Darlene said. “Just a little while ago, though, I told everybody in the line who was packing to get the hell outta here.”

  “Where’d they go?” Gianna asked, scanning the eerily deserted street.

  Darlene shrugged. “Some of ‘em probably got cars parked around here, some of ‘em rode the subway.”

  Gianna checked her watch again, then sent Linda inside. She walked to the curb and called Bobby. “Park at the north end of the street, Bobby, and keep alert,” she said. Then she called Tim McCreedy and Kenny Chang with the message to bring their unmarked to the south end of the street. Then she positioned herself beside Darlene at the door to wait for whatever would happen next. The “whatever” appeared in the form of Mimi trotting purposefully toward The Snatch from the opposite direction from where she’d last seen her, notebook and camera in hand. Gianna stepped away from the building, over to the curb, to meet her.

&n
bsp; “What?”

  “Religious zealots,” Mimi said, looking back down the street. “From that church down there. They’re headed this way, waving signs and making dire predictions of doom and hellfire, or whatever it is they predict.”

  “Ah, shit. Like I don’t have enough problems,” Gianna said, and before she could say anything else, the sound of voices lifted in song wafted toward them on the heavy, humid air. “It’s too hot for this kind of foolishness. Where’s the rain?”

  Mimi slid away from Gianna, angling across the street, and soon was invisible in the darkness. She kept on the look-out for cruising cars of men, but the real target of her interest was the contingent from the Ark of the Covenant Tabernacle Church of the Holy Spirit. She counted as they approached: There were twenty-six of them, more women than men, led by a black-robed man with a big voice. What surprised her was their youth: No old fogeys, these, out to spoil young folks’ fun. These people couldn’t be much older than the people at The Snatch. They walked in the middle of the street, two abreast, in an orderly line behind the preacher, singing loudly and in perfect, majestic harmony.

  “Come join us, sister!” the minister bellowed as he approached her. “Raise your voice against the forces of evil in our community!”

  Mimi waved them along, then fell in behind them. She didn’t know the song they were singing but it was spirited and vigorous and perfect for marching and waving placards. She whipped out her cell phone and called Gianna. “Here they come,” she said, then hurried to the front of the church contingent. She didn’t want to miss the initial encounter between them the collective object of their spiritual concern.

  The church group ceased singing as soon as they reached the curb in front of The Snatch. The preacher raised the megaphone to his face. “It is never too late to come to the forgiving arms of the Master!” The preacher spread his arms as if to embrace the line in front of The Snatch.

  “Jesus loves you!” one of the church people called out.

  “Repent and come to Him,” called out another.

  “Cast not your lot with Satan, for surely you will burn for eternity in a hell of your own making.” The preacher was preaching now, not talking, waving the arm that wasn’t holding the speaker phone. The sweat began to run down his face. “Renounce your evil ways and come home to Jesus!”

  “Get the fuck outta here!” somebody roared from The Snatch line, and it was on. The two groups squared off, both sides shouting and gesticulating, the church people with their bibles and placards, The Snatch people with the middle fingers of their hands.

  Gianna inserted herself in the space between the two groups and snatched the speaker from the preacher, startling him into silence. “I am Lieutenant Maglione of the Metropolitan Police Department. Everybody be quiet, now.” Everybody got quiet and Gianna returned the speaker to the preacher. “I don’t want to arrest any of you, but I will if you make it necessary.”

  “You have no reason to arrest us, Officer,” the preacher said in a more than slightly condescending tone. He was a round-faced man, early thirties, of medium height and build, totally nondescript, except for his voice, which was raspy, deep and mellifluous. “We are exercising our Constitutional rights to assemble peacefully and to speak freely.” He turned away from Gianna and faced his followers, his arms outstretched. “And we are doing God’s will and His work.”

  “Preach, Brother!”

  “Tell the truth!”

  The preacher’s crowd shifted around him, providing a wall of support.

  “Do you have a permit, sir?” Gianna asked, taking a step closer to him.

  “We don’t need a permit, Officer, to exercise—”

  “It’s Lieutenant, sir, and this many people, with placards, and with a public address system, that’s considered a demonstration and it requires a permit from the city. If you don’t have one, you will have to disperse now. If you don’t disperse, I will place all of you under arrest, and given the lateness of the hour, it is highly unlikely that you’ll make church in the morning.” At that moment, Bobby and Cassie appeared from one direction, Kenny and Tim from the other. No doubting that they were cops.

  The minister’s round face, which had been openly expectant, caved in on itself; he resembled a child denied permission to watch a favorite television program. “But what about them?” he asked, pointing to the line.

  “Mind your own fuckin’ business, asshole!” And the line surged toward the preacher and his flock.

  Gianna faced the line and raised her hands, palms forward. Darlene walked the line, making eye contact with everybody she passed. Quiet returned, if not the peace. She turned to face the church group. “What’s it going to be, folks?”

  The preacher had regained some of his starch. He squared his shoulders and took a step toward Gianna. “Do you have a card, Officer?”

  “What part of ‘lieutenant’ don’t you understand?” Gianna had spoken so quietly that only the preacher could hear her, but he backed up several steps as her hazel gaze fixed on him.

  “I...uh...I meant to say...Lieutenant. Do you have a card?”

  Gianna reached into her pocket, withdrew a card, gave it to him, and watched him read it. “Anything else? Any more questions?”

  “I’ve got one.” Mimi stepped toward the minister. “Are you aware that a young woman was murdered a block from here last night?”

  The preacher nodded vigorously. “Yes, sister, and while we pray for the salvation of her eternal soul, we warn all who walk an ungodly path that surely death and destruction are to be expected—”

  The Snatch line surged forward as if one body and one mind, the roar that emanated coming as if from one mouth. Acting with comparable unanimity, the cops wedged themselves in a line between the two groups and, with help from Darlene, they managed to keep some distance between them. Gianna grabbed the speaker again.

  “You all will disperse now or be placed under arrest.”

  “They’ll disperse now or I’ll kill the mother fuckers!”

  Darlene employed force, pushing her line back, away from the church people. She got help from Cassie, while Bobby, Tim and Kenny helped Gianna move the church group back and down the street.

  “This is uncalled for, Lieutenant, and I will be lodging a formal complaint,” the minister said, resisting Gianna’s attempts to move him back until Tim added his weight. “This is police brutality!” the minister cried out as Tim propelled him into a serious backpedal.

  “Just move back, sir,” Tim said, literally adding weight to his words.

  One of the church women began to sing, another picked up the song, and in an instant they all were singing in perfect acappella harmony. They turned as a unit and marched back down the dingy street to their church, followed closely by Tim, Kenny and Bobby. The crowd in the line broke into loud cheers and an impromptu rendition of “Hit the Road, Jack.” Not as harmoniously as the church group, but just as spirited. Darlene, not needing much force at all, got her line back in order, singing along with them, until order was restored. She raised her hand for silence, and got it. Then she reached down beside her chair and retrieved a roll of tickets. “Everybody gets a free one on me tonight. Get a ticket going in the door.”

  A cheer went up, then changed tone and shape as Tim, Bobby and Kenny returned. The Snatch line gave them an ovation. Kenny and Bobby gave sedate bows and waves, but Tim went into his High Queen routine, contorting his six foot-four inch weight lifter’s body into something fluttery and preening. He broke both wrists, added a mincing, tight thigh walk, and left the women in line screaming for more. For the moment, the ugliness was forgotten.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” Darlene said. “It makes me queasy to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

  Gianna didn’t want to think about that, either. “Have they done that before?” she asked, not as relieved of tension as the crowd. She knew that despite their antics, Bobby, Kenny and Tim were back on patrol, ever on alert.

 
“Yeah,” Darlene said, “almost every week, but we mostly ignore ‘em. Some of the homies would shout stuff at ‘em, dirty stuff, especially at the good church brothers. Did you happen to notice how many of them were sissies? Especially the preacher. Big ol’ queen, and he’s got the nerve to be talking about somebody burning in hell. He better hope God’s got a sense of humor—” Her phone rang, cutting off her rant and, at the same moment, so did Gianna’s. Both answered. “Oh, fuck!” Darlene said.

  Gianna raced for the door. Darlene unlocked it and started to follow. “You need to keep the peace out here, but don’t let anybody else in.” She looked toward the street and signaled to Cassie. “You come with me.” She raised her hand in a stand-by gesture to Kenny and Bobby and knew they saw it.

  It was wild inside, the music thumping and pulsing, the women dancing on the bar, and five hundred people in motion. Gianna pushed her way through the crowd, toward the back door. The movement back there was decidedly different from that in the front. Nobody back here was watching the bodies gyrating on the bar. They were watching the bodies writhing on the floor. Four of them. Eric and somebody, Linda and somebody else. Eric was holding his own. Gianna waded in to help Linda, who was straddling what Gianna assumed was a man, struggling to get both of his arms behind him. He was flailing and kicking for all he was worth. Linda had him pinned but she couldn’t get both arms together to get the cuffs on. Gianna stood over him, one leg on either side, and grabbed both his arms. Linda handcuffed him and yanked on the cuffs. Hard.