Murder Mamas Part 7

It was the day of Boomer's funeral service. The cemetery yard was packed, and cloudy skies loomed over the city on that day. Macy's bodyguards acted as pallbearers as they carried the silver-plated casket to the burial site. Supporters and family friends gathered around the rectangular dugout that would be Boomer's final resting place.

Macy stood next to his wife, consoling her as she cried in his arms. They both were draped in all black, mourning the death of their loved one. Macy had mixed emotions and began to regret what he did after seeing the pain and suffering his wife had endured because of his spontaneous action. Macy's conscience was getting the best of him because every time he looked at his wife, he saw Boomer.

As the casket was set on the foundation, preparing for it to be lowered into the ground, the spectators looked on as the preacher began the sermon.

d.a.m.n, Boomer. Why did you have to do this to yourself? Macy thought as he shook his head in shame. A veteran of the street game and having past experience with people who held envy in their heart, Macy knew that if he didn't kill Boomer when he did, Boomer would have eventually done him in. Macy regretted it, but it was necessary.

As the preacher finished up the sermon, a slightly heavyset lady with a big black hat stepped out of the crowd. A soulful voice emerged from her vocal cords as she began to sing her own rendition of "A Change Is Gonna Come." It seemed as if her voice was touched by the angels, and her song only ignited more tears within the audience.

As she sang, the casket was slowly being lowered, and that was when Fatima lost it. Her knees buckled, and Macy had to catch her from falling.

"I got you, baby," he whispered into her ear as he held her up. As he looked at his wife falling apart, he really contemplated resigning as mayor. He began to question his choices in life. Here he was, a real street n.i.g.g.a in a political realm. He didn't fit in and he knew it. No matter how many fancy suits or rich friends he had, he still was a boy from the ghetto. The only difference was that he made it out. However, you can take the boy out of the ghetto, but not the ghetto out of the boy. Macy knew that the hood mentality was still in him, and burying Boomer was the proof.

Light rain began to fall, and while other people a.s.sumed that it was just an act of Mother Nature, Macy knew that it was tears of the late Boomer.

Meanwhile, Case was on the other side, itching to get to Macy. He had always had a slight jealousy issue with Macy. He believed that Macy purposely kept him underneath him and stunted his growth in the drug game. He believed Case only gave him a chance to grow once he himself was out of the drug game. Case didn't understand that it wasn't Macy keeping him from growing, but his own brute approach and lack of business skills.

The birth of the green-eyed monster that society calls jealousy came into play years ago. It was when Macy didn't allow Case to meet the out-of-town c.o.ke connect. Case always believed that he and Macy were equal partners until that day. Case could remember it like it was yesterday... .

It was the year of 1998, and crack had just reached full stride in the black community. Macy and his squad of goons had the whole city on lock and afraid. He ran a flawless operation with over fifteen operating crack houses within the city. Macy was virtually unstoppable. Macy was what you called a people's champ. The community embraced him even though he was the one responsible for tearing it down.At the time, Case was Macy's head street general and mostly handled all of the dirty work for him.

Friends since childhood, they had a bond, and both played an integral part in the operation. Macy was the brains and Case was the muscle. They both understood their role and everything was smooth, but as the old saying goes, once envy enters, reason leaves. This was a prime example of that saying, and it didn't show up until Macy was on his way to Florida to visit his c.o.ke connection.

Macy suavely looked at his watch and then slid his hand into his right pocket. He was standing in line so that he could go through the security checkpoint. His heart beat fast as his adrenaline began to pick up. He wasn't usually the nervous type, but with $150,000 of unreported cash in his briefcase, it made him uneasy, and rightfully so. He stood in line as the security guards stood by the metal detector. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, and he hoped like h.e.l.l that he wasn't going to be a subject for a random search.

He usually would have sent a female to make the run for him, but that weekend was a special one. His c.o.ke connect had finally agreed to meet him face to face.

The connect was a man by the name of Carter Diamond, who was well a.s.sociated with a Dominican supplier. Macy had been dealing with a third party for the past two summers, and finally the connect wanted to meet the man who bought ten bricks or more from him every month. It was a common courtesy. Macy saw the bigger picture and knew that by meeting the c.o.ke connect, his prices would go down. The fewer hands the cocaine traveled through, the purer the product and the cheaper the price.

Macy smiled as he thought about the opportunity that was in front of him. He slid past the metal detector and guards without a problem and took a deep breath once he got a few yards away. He quickly made his way over to a pay phone so that he could phone Case to make sure he was on his way driving down to Miami. Because Macy couldn't travel with guns, he ordered Case to meet him in Miami by car.

Macy placed the briefcase by his feet, and he attempted to make a call on the pay phone. He slid his back to the phone as he placed the receiver to his ear. He wanted to make sure everything was going as planned.

Macy confirmed that Case had arrived and hung up the phone. He only had an hour before he was supposed to be meeting with the infamous Carter Diamond. Carter was notorious and one of the richest hustlers in the game. He was an extraordinary businessman on top of being a supplier of large quant.i.ties of blow. This was what set him away from the pack. He married into a cocaine family and got instantly plugged.

Macy walked outside the airport and waited for a limo to pick him up, compliments of Carter Diamond. The limo pulled off, and Macy got to ride through the city of Miami for the very first time-the city where the crime family "The Cartel" ruled.

After a thirty-minute ride, the limo pulled up to a gigantic mansion that was surrounded by tall steel gates. The beautiful home sat on an estate-the Diamond estate, to be exact. Macy couldn't believe he was about to visit the home of the biggest drug lord North America had ever seen.

Macy was young, but he had an old soul, which enabled him to move up in the ranks and gain control of the streets; but he never thought that it would get him to this level. b.u.t.terflies formed in his stomach as the driver rolled down his window to show his face for entry. As they bypa.s.sed the gates, Macy noticed that Carter had armed men around his fence, and he was taking notes. He wanted to handle his operation just as his connect was-with power and security.

They pulled up to the wrap-around driveway and parked. Macy was let out by the driver. He then escorted him around the house to the back, where the pool was located. The back was immaculate. The pool was shaped like a diamond, and the flowers around the yards were exotic and colorful, only adding to the beautiful view. The sound of laughter and water splas.h.i.+ng filled the air as Macy noticed a couple kids playing in the water. Macy looked down at the yard and had not seen gra.s.s so green his entire life.

The driver stopped in his tracks and placed his hand on the shoulder of Macy. "Mr. Diamond is waiting for you just ahead," he said in his deep and raspy voice.

"Thank you," Macy said in a low tone as he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

Macy noticed a man sitting at the pool with an open linen s.h.i.+rt and linen pants. He also sipped on a gla.s.s of cognac on ice as he watched the young kids play in the pool. Macy immediately knew who the man was; it was Carter Diamond.

As Macy approached the man, his heart began to beat harder and harder. He was far from scared, but the feeling of anxiety overcame him. Carter stood up and extended his hand as Macy approached.

"How was your trip?" Carter asked as he firmly shook the hand of his guest.

"Good, good," Macy answered.

"Have a seat," Carter suggested as he waved at the chair at the table. Macy took a seat and Carter did also.

Carter looked into the eyes of the up-and-coming hustler he had sent for. "So you're the man that can move bricks like magic, huh?" Carter said as he took a pull of his cigar.

"I guess you can say that," Macy answered as a smile formed on his face.

Carter looked into Macy's eyes and tried to read him. He wanted to see if there was any fear or hesitation evident. However, Carter could sense no trace of fear whatsoever. If he really knew that Macy was nervous, he would have ended the meeting right then and there. Carter liked to have strong people around him, and being timid would have gotten Macy a first-cla.s.s ticket back home.

"I have been watching you for some time now. Not to startle you, but it's just the truth. I sent my goons down there to see what was going on. I thought to myself, how does the young black man move so much weight? He has to be a fed, I said to myself. But s.h.i.+t, you just a natural-born hustler," Carter said just before he took a puff of his cigar.

Two young boys began to tussle near the poolside and took Carter's attention off of Macy. "Hey, hey! Mecca and Monroe, stop fighting each other!" Carter yelled as he gave the two young boys a stern look. They quickly stopped at the sound of their father's voice, and Carter focused his attention back on Macy. "Sorry about that. My boys are kind of rough," Carter said proudly.

"Yeah, I see," Macy said as he glanced over at the half-black, half-Dominican twin boys.

"Look, I invited you out here where I rest my head. As you can see, I am a family man. I really see potential in you. I don't open my home to just anybody, and I want you to know that."

"I appreciate the gesture," Macy said as a waiter came and poured him a gla.s.s of cognac. Macy nodded and took a sip of the liquor.

"Okay, let's get to business. I am willing to give you as many bricks as you can handle-on consignment. However, your man ... I don't like the way he moves," Carter said as his smile turned upside down, signaling that he was dead serious.

"I don't understand," Macy answered, trying to figure out Carter's angle.

"Follow me. Let's go inside," Carter said as he stood up. Macy's mind began to race, wondering what exactly Carter was getting at. However, he stood and followed Carter as he headed to the beach house that was a few yards away.

"Like I said, my men have been watching you for some time. I got word that he is a hothead and tends to be flashy. Those are two traits that a good drug dealer doesn't need to have. Do you know how to spell flashy?" Carter asked as they walked side by side. "F-E-D-S," he stated before Macy could get a chance to respond.

They stepped into the pool house, where a man was waiting for them.

"This is my right-hand man, Polo," Carter said as he nodded his head toward Polo. Macy and Polo nodded at each other in acknowledgment, and a cold, intense look was in Polo's eyes. Macy didn't back down and returned the glare without an ounce of fear.

Carter broke the tension by suggesting that they go downstairs. Macy looked around confused. It was a small room, and no stairs to even offer a downstairs existed.

Carter smoothly walked over to the bookshelf and pulled a book that was actually a hidden lever. Almost immediately a portion of the wall slid over, revealing a secret pa.s.sage.

"Follow me, gentlemen," Carter said as he headed down.

Macy tried not to have a surprised look and kept his ice grill, but nevertheless, he was impressed. He had never seen anything like it before. It was like a scene straight out of a movie.

They all went down the stairs where the sound of Miles Davis was playing and the room was dimly lit. The stairs and floors were carpeted with a deep red color and it seemed more like a lair than a bas.e.m.e.nt. It was a relaxing setting, but that soon changed when Macy noticed the man who sat bound to a chair. The man had a potato bag over his head and was squirming, trying to free himself.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Macy asked as he looked at Carter, who had a slight grin on his face.

Polo walked over to the man and pulled out a handgun. He placed the gun to the squirming man's head and looked at Carter. Carter then looked at Macy and began to speak.

"This is you right-hand man, Case. I had one of my goons s.n.a.t.c.h him up from the hotel room where he was waiting for you at. You have a choice. I am only going to ask you this one time, so listen close. If you make the decision right now to off your man, you have my word that you will be connected for life. You will have grade-A c.o.ke and my political connections. You will virtually be transformed to a kingpin overnight," Carter carefully said. He made sure Macy understood every single word that escaped his mouth.

Macy was totally taken off guard and stared at his friend, who was sitting before him. Macy was a man before anything, and he let Carter know.

"I stand behind my n.i.g.g.a. If he has to die for me to get connected, then it's not worth it. If you shoot him, you might as well shoot me right," Macy said bravely as he looked Carter square in the eye.

Carter nodded his head in approval and grinned slightly. He knew at that moment that he had picked the right protege.

Polo also grinned, impressed with Carter's judge of character. Polo then s.n.a.t.c.hed the sack off of the man's head, revealing his face. Macy gasped in disbelief. The man wasn't Case, but a guy he had never seen before. A sock was stuffed in his mouth, and he was already beaten badly; Macy could tell by the b.l.o.o.d.y nose and two black eyes.

"What the f.u.c.k is going on?" Macy asked Carter, as he was totally puzzled.

"That was just a test. I knew that if you were willing to cross your own man, then down the line you would eventually cross me. I respect your gangster, young blood. I respect it," Carter said as he slowly nodded his head up and down in approval.

Macy smiled, realizing that he was dealing with some serious gangsters and was happy to be in their circle. He then asked out of curiosity, "So who is this?" he said as he pointed at the man tied up.

"This is the n.i.g.g.a's place you are taking. Come to find out, he was talking to the feds. Ain't that a b.i.t.c.h?" Carter said as he reached for the gun that Polo held.

"So what you going to do with him? Kill him?" Macy asked.

"No, not at all. I'm a businessman. I'm not a killer," Carter said as he took a step closer to Macy. "You are going to kill him," Carter said as he handed Macy the loaded weapon. Carter was testing Macy's gangster and also verifying that he wasn't an undercover. He knew that if he was a cop, he wouldn't kill a man.

Macy, young and ambitious, took the gun and gave the man two to the head without hesitation. Not one of them even flinched as the loud shots rang out. On that day, it was solidified that Macy was connected.

When Macy went to explain the ordeal to Case, Case wondered why he wasn't invited, and that was the beginning of the end.

Chapter Nine.

The weeks following Boomer's death were one big blur to Fatima. She could hardly remember if she was coming or going her head was in such disarray. She couldn't focus on anything, and it felt as if she had a gaping hole where her heart used to be. Pinot Grigio became her escape and her only confidant. She lived in a constant state of inebriation to avoid dealing with Boomer's death. She silently blamed herself. She had been so preoccupied with her own life, so busy and involved with Macy's political career. Now with Boomer gone she was forced to admit that she had contributed to his destructive lifestyle.

I saw him falling apart. If I would have been more focused on him, this would not have happened. I should have gotten him off the drugs, she thought somberly. Hindsight was always 20/20, and she wished that she could go back and right her past's wrongs.

Macy could see Fatima falling into a depression. He was going above and beyond to pull her out of it, but his efforts were futile. Nothing could shake the hazy fog that had fallen over her. She couldn't see through all of the pain. She slept days away to avoid dealing with reality. Her world had become too chaotic to even cope with. Although she was well aware of Boomer's drug issues, she still could not believe that he was gone. The police had labeled his homicide drug related, which meant that he would just become another unsolved murder.

As Macy entered the room, he saw Fatima lying on the bed with her hands tucked safely between her thighs. He could tell from the rhythm of her breathing that she wasn't asleep. He knew her like the back of his hand and didn't even have to ask what she was thinking of.

"Stop obsessing over this, Tima. He's gone. There is nothing that anyone can do to bring Boomer back," Macy said as he stood over her.

"I know. I would just feel better if I knew who killed him and why," Fatima said.

"You don't want to know that," Macy replied surely. "Just let it go."

Fatima looked past him and out of the window. She was so absent and distant that Macy was willing to do anything to snap her out of it.

"You can't just rot away in this house, ma," he whispered. "I'm worried about you, Tima. I've got meetings and stuff to attend, so I can't just look after you every minute of the day. Why don't you get dressed and get out of the house. Go shopping ... on me ... and afterwards, go check into a plush room, enjoy some time at the spa. Relax your mind and get your spirit right. You deserve it after what you've been through," Macy said as he reached into his suit jacket and removed his wallet. He pulled out a black card and placed it on the nightstand. "I know you're not going to turn that down."

For the first time in weeks, she laughed slightly, giving him a soft smile. "That's my girl," he said as he helped her out of the bed.

Fatima dressed quickly, and Macy checked on her before he left for the day. "You need me to call the car service for you?"

Fatima shook her head. "No. I can drive myself. I want to be alone anyway."

Macy's office phone rang loudly, and she nodded her head. "Go ahead. I'm fine, baby. I'm on my way out. I'll call you to check in," she said.

Macy kissed her cheek and retreated to answer his phone call as she headed out. She grabbed the keys to Macy's Mercedes, knowing that it had more trunk s.p.a.ce for her purchases, and then pulled off.

Fatima wasn't a mall shopper, and with Macy's permission, she ripped through Rodeo Drive like a professional buyer. She indulged in everything from Mikimoto pearls to Fendi handbags, not even stopping long enough to look at a price tag. On any other day, this would have been her dream, a shopping spree with no limits and no man beside her to slow her down; but no matter how much stuff she purchased, she still felt low. Her spirit was dampened. The death of her son had d.a.m.n near snuffed out any possibility of future happiness.

Her face had been plastered all over the news during her son's funeral. Macy's political career had made Boomer's death local news, and as she patronized her favorite stores, she could feel the curious eyes of the other customers. She was a recognizable figure around the city of Los Angeles, and it only made it harder to deal with the chaos. She needed solace and privacy so that she could process her loss in her own way. Oversized shades covered her swollen eyes as she spent a small fortune trying to make her sorrow go away.

It wasn't long before the media got wind of her outing, and soon cameras and reporters were crowding her. She maneuvered through the crowd of paparazzi and avoided their questions as she kept her head down.

"Mrs. Sigel, how are you dealing with the death of your son?" a reporter asked as she shoved a microphone in Fatima's face.

"Is it true that your son's death was drug related?" another asked.

"Is it true that the mayor is an affiliate of known drug dealers in the city? Is that why your son was shot and killed?"

Fatima pushed the microphones out of her face as she carried her packages to the car. The media were like vultures as they attacked her with a barrage of intrusive questions. She had learned long ago never to open her mouth for them. It wouldn't have mattered what she said; they would have twisted her words and spun a story to portray her in a negative light.

The city officials were already up in arms that Macy Sigel, a black man, was the elected mayor. She had to be extremely careful how she moved. She had to constantly be prepared to handle the press, which was why she said nothing and gave them the cold shoulder as she rushed to get in the car. Her shopping trip had been cut short, and it was on days like today that she felt like her lavish lifestyle was not worth the cost she paid to live it.

A mother deserves to deal with the death of her son in peace, she thought as a tear escaped from behind the gla.s.ses on her face. Through her jaded lens, all she could see was sadness. This had been the first day that she had felt a sense of normalcy return to her world, and in the blink of an eye, the news reporters had ruined it. The way that she was feeling, she was tempted to go off on them for being disrespectful and for turning her family's tragedy into the city's latest entertainment story. They were making her life appear to be a circus act on TV, and she was vexed. Fatima knew that she couldn't act out her anger, however. She had a husband to represent, and she had always done it well.

She popped the trunk and went to place her belongings inside. Fatima jumped slightly and paused as she s.n.a.t.c.hed her arm back out of the trunk. b.l.o.o.d.y clothes lay crumpled inside, and she quickly closed the trunk so that the prying paparazzi and reporters did not notice.

Where did those clothes come from? Why is Macy hiding them? she thought as a dull ache filled her. Her intuition was telling her that something wasn't right, and she quickly shook the cameras as she hit the expressway and headed out to the beach. It was where she went when she needed to think.

As she stepped out of her car, the smell of the salt water appealed to her. She quickly went into the trunk of the car and pulled out the b.l.o.o.d.y clothes. "He was wearing these the day Boomer died," she said with a gasp. "Why is there blood?" she asked.

Fatima wasn't nave and didn't want to a.s.sume that Macy was clean-cut. He had always been hood and prominently respected in the drug game. Overall, he wasn't a good guy, but he was good to her. She didn't want to think that he would ever do anything to hurt her. A million and one thoughts went through her head as she gripped the clothes in her hand. Don't a.s.sume anything. This could be anyone's blood, she thought.

Fatima took off her expensive shoes and put the clothes in the back seat of her car before stepping onto the smooth sand. It sank between her toes as she began to walk down the beach as the sun set behind her. She picked up her phone to call Macy, but hung up quickly, knowing that the questions she had to ask were ones that needed to be asked in person.

Fatima walked into the house clutching the b.l.o.o.d.y clothes in her hand. She had already told herself that Macy would have a good explanation for hiding them in the trunk of his car, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. She wanted to see his face when she questioned him about them. Fatima silently prayed that his explanation made sense. She needed to hear him say something that made her feel silly for ever thinking otherwise. Fatima needed Macy to look her in the face and tell her that he had nothing to do with Boomer's death.

A nagging sensation gripped her as she stalked toward his office, determined yet nervous at the same time. Macy wasn't expecting her. At that moment, she was supposed to be an hour away, across town, enjoying a Swedish ma.s.sage and sipping expensive champagne, but her mind wouldn't let this go.

She could hear voices coming from the back of the house, and she realized that Macy was not alone. She recognized Edris' voice and crept silently as she stood outside of the office door. Itching to confront Macy, she cursed under her breath because she would have to wait until his company left. Fatima didn't like to air her dirty laundry in the streets, and impatience ate away at her cool visage. She took a deep breath to calm herself and was about to announce her presence, until she heard her name come up.

"How's Tima doing with all of this?" Edris asked.