Dancing with Devils - Ch. 05

Chapter 6

One

Jamal Davis spent his Sunday evening alone at the downtown condo he purchased three months earlier. He knew Willard was going to die for over a year, and his time at the estate would come to a necessary end. He would keep his offices there for now, but he had already set up his own work area at his new residence. He sat at the panoramic windows high above the Manhattan streets and read the file Mindy had left behind for the third or fourth time. He also thought about Jacob. Jacob was spending his night in a jail cell in Brooklyn. That thought made him smile as he imagined the spoiled child rotting alone with the dregs of society.

Mindy was also no longer an issue. He had successfully cauterized that threat. He had gotten an update from a cop he kept in touch with. The police were buying the story that she was an innocent by stander shot in the cross fire between two rival gangs.

There were four bound files on the glass coffee table and he picked up the one that had the initial police report in it. His cop had gotten him a copy of the file for a nominal fee of two hundred dollars. Jamal had a few cops on they payroll, carefully recruiting them. He told all of them that they were not committing crimes by sharing information that would be available to the defense during discovery. They merely were accelerating the process and should be rewarded for injecting some efficiency in the bureaucracy. This was a lie, and even the cops on his payroll knew it. But most people needed a rationale rooted in logic to justify betraying their duty. Under paid, under appreciated, and low morale of fighting a losing war on drugs created a fertile ground to cultivate those that would bend the rules to Jamal's will.

The file he obtained painted the picture of Mindy's last moments alive. He smiled thinking about seeing her alive one moment, and then a bloody sack of meat on the ground in the next. His only regret was that he couldn't have been there to see it.

Mindy had been walking from a small corner grocery store and on the way back to her apartment. She apparently had gone to get wine. According to the police report she had been caught between two black males who were shooting at each other. It was assumed to be gang related. There were shell casings from two different caliber handguns on opposite sides of the street. It appeared that Mindy had been unlucky enough to have been at the wrong place and the wrong time. Two stray nine millimeter bullets struck her. One went through her left eye and exited above her right ear, taking a significant portion of her brain with it. The other went into her chest, turning her heart to pulp.

That was according to the police report. But Jamal knew that was bullshit. Her real killer was not a gang banger or even a man. Her real killer was a woman named Carol Murphy. Carol was a psychopath in the clinical sense of the word. Jamal had helped the woman a few times over the years and he liked her. He feared her too, but if Jamal had to name his closest friend that wasn't a billionaire he would have said it was her.

He had met Carol the first time when she was fifteen years old and he was not yet thirty and working as an associate at a law firm and was assigned Willard Mitchell's account. Willard had not yet made his billions but was on his way. Jamal would stay close to the man but needed the security of a job. He had student loans and needed money. Jamal had grown up poor, but his parents were rich compared to the life of poverty Carol had escaped.

He remembered how he met her.

Two

Carol grew up outside the five boroughs in a trailer park with her mother, Megan Murphy, who was 19 at the time of Carol's birth. Her mother worked as a cashier at the local convenient store for minimum wage and was barely scraping by with some government assistance. Unfortunately for Carol, her mother, discovered cocaine and vodka. Carol never knew who her father was, other than his first name was Dale. Her mother only referred to him as 'the piece of shit'. Everything was 'the piece of shits' fault growing up. When they ran out of milk because the money ran out before the end of the month, her mother would say, "You can thank the piece of shit if you're hungry". She wasn't exactly hungry alot but neither was she well fed.

Things went from bad to worse for Carol six months after Megan Murphy discovered crack cocaine and graduated from snorting to smoking. In those months Carol was more and more scared when she would come home from school, afraid she would find her mother dead or so high she would be paranoid or psychotic. Other times Carol would see the withdrawal when the elder Murphy could not afford the small baggies of crystal misery. The withdrawals were the worst and once Carol came home to find most of her clothes missing. Megan had sold them for a few dollars to feed the monkey she was carrying on her back. Carol had to wear the same pair of jeans to school for two weeks until she was able to buy another pair at the local GoodWill.

She might have lived through that nightmare of a childhood, but Megan met a man named Devon Truly. Devon was another lost soul in the ocean of drugs that were flooding the eastern seaboard during the war on drugs between 1980 and the new millennium.

Carol came home one afternoon to find her mother and Devon high on crack, sitting on the couch. They told her they had good news. Devon would be moving in with them. Carol was not sure this was good news. Devon scared her and she didn't like the way he looked at her. Megan either didn't notice or didn't care. She told Carol that Devon would make it easier for them because they could split rent and he would pay half the expenses. It would be like she was making twice as much money.

Unfortunately that windfall turned into more drugs and more binges.

Devon raped her the first time, two weeks after he moved in. At the time she was fourteen years old, a freshman in high school, and was in her room reading a history book. There was a quiz the next morning and she wanted to do well. Devon was smoking crack in the living room of the trailer, blowing the smoke out an open window. He came into her room without knocking. She was on her twin mattress on the floor, in her gym shorts and a tee shirt, laying on her stomach, a book open on her frameless bed.

He said, "Your mom lost her job yesterday." Carol knew this, but she wasn't sure what Devon expected her to do about it. He said, "I can't pay for this place all by myself so you are going to have to help out. You got any money?" Carol did not have any money and if she did, her mother, no doubt would have snorted or smoked it.

She said, "No. I don't have any money." This seemed to make Devon angry.

He screamed, "Just like your fucking mother. You god damn bitches are all the same. You suck us in with your pussy and tits and expect us to pay for your worthless asses."

Carol sat up and scooted up the mattress away from him, holding her book across her chest defensively. Devon looked angry and hungry. It scared her. She said, "Devon get out of my room". Sometimes a direct command would get through the haze of cocaine and he might follow the instructions. Other times it enraged him. This was one of the times it enraged him.

He said, "You don't have a room you fucking leech. I pay for this place and you are just an ungrateful little cunt. Everything in here is mine, including your worthless ass until you turn 18 and I kick you out." He pushed into her room and closed the door. He turned to her and said, "The only thing you have worth anything is that pussy of yours. You know how to use it yet?"

Carol was a virgin at the time but she knew what Devon was thinking. Before Devon her mother occasionally sold herself for drugs, so Carol was not unfamiliar with the realities of sex and what men wanted. She said, "Don't do this. Please don't do this." He came toward her and she tried to run. She feinted left and then went to her right, thought she would make it out the door. If she could get outside she could outrun Devon and hide somewhere until her mother came home. But Devon caught her wrist, twisted it, and she went down with a hard 'thump' onto the floor. Then he was on top of her.

She smelled his rotten breath on her face and could feel his excitement pressed against her. She twisted and screamed, but Devon was bigger and stronger. She felt his hand go between her legs and screamed again. She tried to kick with her legs and Devon was laughing. He said, "God damn this is going to be hot if you fight like that. Come on bitch. I'll teach you what God made you for."

He managed to pick her up by her hair and tossed her like a rag doll toward the mattress on the floor. Her head hit the wall and she was stunned, a bell seemed to ring in her ear, and her vision faded for a second. Then he fell on her, pulling her shorts and underwear down and off. He pinned her with his body, pushing her knees apart. Then there was a knife of pain as Devon, stoned out of his mind, used her. She felt something inside herself tear as she lay under him crying and pleading for him to stop. Eventually it did but something broke inside Carol's soul.

He left her there, blood and semen leaking out of her. She heard him go, stumbling out of her room and down the hallway. Carol slowly got up when she heard him bang into the kitchen looking for a beer. She locked the door to her room, curled up, and cried feeling ashamed, hurt, and afraid.

Her mother came home four hours later. She listened as he told her what had happened, at least his version of it. He started with, "Honey I don't want you to be pissed but I need to tell you something." He proceeded to tell Megan how he had gotten high and Carol had come on to him and he made a mistake. Carol thought, A mistake? Are you fucking kidding me?

Then Megan was screaming profanities at him. There was a crash as a plate hit a wall, narrowly missing Devon's head. She screamed, "She's only fourteen you asshole." Something more substantial hit a wall in the kitchen.

Devon tried to mollify her and said, "I'm sorry babe. I was high, and you know how I need it when I'm high. I mean you weren't here to take care of me so its not all my fault." Megan began to scream at him again.

He slapped her and said, "Babe you got to chill out. It was just a little fucking. I mean you know how girls her age want it all the time."

Carol's heart and blood went cold. Did he really think she wanted what he did to her. She felt something cold bloom in her heart. It was hate.

Megan screamed, "You mother fucker." She was crying.

Devon said, "You fucked Reggie last weekend, so don't be such a bitch about it. Shit happens. Let's not make a fucking federal case out of it."

Megan said, "I'm not fourteen and you told me to fuck Reggie 'cause you owed him for two baggies."

The fight seemed to be going out of both of them. Finally Devon said the magic words. "Sweetie, I'm sorry it won't happen again. Let me make it up to you. I got some money left over from that thing last weekend. I'll go buy us a bag of the good stuff and we can have a nice night. I'm sure Carol is fine."

Her mother said, "I need to go check on her."

Carol listened until he left to go get more drugs. Then her mother lightly knocked on her door and said, "Carol, you okay in there?'

Carol opened the door and her mother looked at her. Her face fell taking in her daughters tear tracked cheeks. She asked, "Oh honey I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"

Carol was hurt, but she didn't think badly or badly enough to need a doctor. She was still in shock at what had happened. She said, "I'm okay mom." She let her mother hug her and said, "Devon, um, did things to me that I didn't like. I swear I didn't want him to do that."

Her mother said, "I know Carol and its never going to happen again okay. I'm here and I promise it will never happen again." Carol knew this was a lie. She had been living with an addict for a parent for almost half her life and there was one thing she was sure of. Addicts are liars. But she said, "Okay mom."

Her mother had taken her to the bathroom, had her take a long shower, and told her some hard truths about being a girl who would become a woman. She was brushing Carol's hair as the two stood in front of the mirror. She said, "I need to tell you some things Carol." Carol had nodded.

Her mother said, "That thing that boys have between their legs, that girls don't, rule their lives. I'm not even sure its their fault. They were born that way I guess, but what I'm saying is boys are always wanting to do that thing with girls. You are growing up now and you are starting to look like a woman. You are pretty and boys are going to want you to let them have sex with you. It's just what boys do."

Carol said, "I don't want to ever do that again. It hurt so bad."

Her mom nodded and said, "I know honey. Devon won't do that again, but you can't tell anyone what happened. You understand. This has to be our secret. If anyone ever found out it would be really bad, not just for him, but for you too."

Carol didn't want to tell anyone anything. She was ashamed and afraid no one would believe she didn't want it. It was her word against Devon's. That was at least how she looked at it. Her mother continued, "I talked to Devon and he's sorry. He made a mistake and he's going to pay for it."

Carol thought, yeah with a bag of crack. She thought what he did to her was worth more than a bag of crack. Carol said, "Please don't let him stay here mom. Please I don't want him to do that to me again."

Her mother sighed, looking twenty years older than she was, and said, "He won't do that again. I promise. But I can't kick him out. I lost my job and he's helping me pay for things right now. Maybe when I get a better job, but I promise he won't ever make a mistake with you again."

Carol hated her mother calling it a 'mistake', like he had accidentally left the milk out on the counter instead of returning it to the refrigerator.

Carol looked at the floor knowing her mother's words were a lie. The only power she had was to not believe her. She said defeated, "Okay mom". It was all she could think to say.

Carol saw her mother clearly that day. She was an addict and the only thing she loved or cared about were the small white crystals that came in small ziplock bags. Carol realized the power those little baggies held over her mother and also over Devon. There was nothing more important than those baggies and for the first time in her life she understood who and what her mother had become.

In a flash of adult insight, she remembered the men before Devon who showed up in the days before the government check would come. Her mother was selling sex for drugs. Before she always believed her mother when she told her it was the last time, and just something she had to do to get to the end of the month.

She remembered the time her mother had first sold the silverware in the kitchen for a bag of the stuff.

She remembered being made fun of by the other girls for carrying her three outfits with her in her backpack to school so her mother wouldn't sell them. And now she saw a woman who would let her daughter be raped by a man and excuse it for those little baggies.

Those baggies held immense power that had taken her mother from her. Devon had also taken something even more fundamental from her because of those little baggies. She looked at her mother in reflection and saw a husk of a person. Her mother's soul had been killed by those little baggies and Devon was a monster because of them. Carol shivered feeling desperately alone.

But deep down whatever had been taken from her was replaced by a cold, unrelenting fury. She refused to bow to the power of the baggie. And she would be damned if Devon would rape her again. She was alone, but she would not live in fear. She would not be broken, and she would not surrender her own soul to those little baggies. And she would never again surrender her body to Devon or anyone else. She would die first.

She was about to give voice to her feelings when the trailer door popped open and Devon called, "Honey I got the good shit. Come on let's party our asses off. We deserve it."

Carol saw her mother smile, a genuine smile of pleasure, at those words. She saw again that raw power her addiction and those little bags of white crack rocks held. Carol wished she was as powerful as those little white crystals. She also knew that Devon would rape her again. Well he would try anyway. She would have to do something about that.

Her mother patted her shoulder gently and said, "Carol I think you are going to be fine. Go study. You have a quiz tomorrow."

Carol said, "Okay mom". Megan left her in the bathroom and hurried to the kitchen where Devon was already loading a glass pipe.

Three

Carol failed her quiz the next morning, and the ones that followed in the week after Devon had abused her. She couldn't seem to keep her mind off the feeling of Devon on top of her and the smell of his fetid breath. She was dreamt about it and lost sleep. She was afraid most of the time, but she also obsessed about what she could do about it. All of her grades dropped like a stone and if someone would put all her grades on a calendar, the day she was raped would stand out like a steep cliff. But no one did.

The terror was the worst in the room where she had been raped. At night she would lay on the old mattress on the floor of her room listening, expecting him to come back and take her again. Every noise she heard she was sure he was coming for her. She hated the powerless feeling. She had to find a way to stop him. She had to do something. She knew it was only a matter of time.

She found an answer to her problem in the wood working and shop room at her high school. The teacher sometimes let students eat lunch in the workshop if they were finishing a project or needed extra time. There were all sorts of tools hanging on the walls or in tool boxes. She took her brown bag lunch that consisted of two pieces of day old bread with a smear of butter between them and an apple. She sat in the back and eventually her eye found something that might be useful.

On her way out she made sure no one was watching, and slipped the tool off the peg it hung on, and into her backpack. It was a leather awl and she somehow felt safer for having it. The sharp point of the tool was menacing and powerful in the damage that might be inflicted with it. When she got home she put it under her pillow. That night as she lay in bed she gripped the tool in her right hand as a talisman of her own power. She finally was able to sleep for a few hours anyway.

Devon stayed away from her for a month, and even cooked dinner for her and her mother once. The binges on crack cocaine even slowed marginally. He used the word 'family' more often, like he was testing it out. He talked about how family had to be there for each other no matter what, and how nothing was more important to him than that. His words were lies, and Carol knew it. He was afraid she might tell someone what he had done.

She knew what he was doing and she hated him all the more for it. But she was glad he was staying away from her, if for no other reason than self interest. After a month he assumed that if she had not told anyone she never would.

Her mother got another job as a waitress at an all night diner. She was working on a Saturday and Devon was home with Carol, alone for the first time since he had raped her. He was bored and decided to pass the time with his pipe and a bottle of beer.

Carol locked herself in her room, praying he would pass out or die. But of course her prayers went unanswered and sometime after midnight Devon came to her room, stoned and angry. The crack cocaine had worked him into a psychotic frenzy. She heard him try the knob of her locked door and then say, "Open the door you little bitch".

Dancing with Devils - Ch. 05 by T_S_Wolfe

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1.0

Carol was in her bed in pajama shorts and a tee shirt. She heard him and came awake in the dark. She went silent and tried to pretend she was still asleep. He rapped again, three hard thwacks with his fist. He said, "Open the fucking door or I'll knock it down. Don't piss me off Carol."

Carol's mouth was dry and her awl was in her hand, her knuckles white as she gripped it in the dark room. She called out to him. "Go to bed Devon. My mom will be home in a few hours."

He called back, "Fuck you, you ungrateful little whore. Open the fucking door right now." He seemed to punch the door and it rattled in the frame. Then he went quiet. For a moment she thought maybe he had gone, but then he said, "Last chance bitch."

She watched in horror as the door knob rattle and the button she used to lock it popped out and the knob turned. Devon stood there framed in the doorway, a looming and scary outline. He held a pocket knife in his hand that he had used to pry back the latch to the door. He put it back in his pocket and said, "You are one stupid little bitch."

Carol was scared but she knew this day was coming. Now she would die, or he would. That's what it came down to, but she would not let him rape her again. He turned on her light with the switch by the door, looked at her, and smiled like a wolf who had just found his way into a chicken coop. Carol held the awl out in front of her, pointing it at him, and said, "Don't come in here or I will stab you."

Devon looked at the tool in her hand, then at her face, and laughed. He said, "Well let's get it on then girlie. You can try to stab me with that toy of yours and I'll try and stab you with my cock. Who are you betting on cunt?"

Devon took a step toward her and she thrust the awl out toward his guts, but Devon jumped back out of range, laughing. Then he came at her fast and she made another stabbing move but he caught her wrist, spun her, and threw her against the wall. Carol let go of the awl to catch herself before she collided face first into the wall and it fell somewhere between her mattress and the wall. She turned and faced Devon. That hunger was on his face and it filled her with horror and fear. But her resolve remained. She would not be his victim again.

She thought about what her mother had said about men and what they wanted. How that desire ruled them. And a plan blossomed in her mind. She forced her self to smile, her back against the wall, and said, "Okay Devon you win. We can do this if you really want to."

That seemed to stop him. He said, "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."

Carol nodded. She said, "I know. And I'm going to let you. You don't have to hurt me. What you did last time hurt me. I've sort of been thinking about it , and it might not have been so bad if you didn't hit me before. Maybe I could even like it if you don't hurt me."

Devon said, "Really?" Devon was both confused and aroused. Did she actually want him? His brain flooded with cocaine and over inflated ego wanted to believe that.

Carol nodded and said, "Mom told me what boys need sometimes. I can do that if you want me to, as long as you don't hurt me. Okay?"

Devon wanted her and it would be easier if she didn't fight him. The little bitch was offering to fuck him. But she was less than half his age. She must have some really bad daddy issues. Probably did since Dale the deadbeat cut out on her when her mother was nine months pregnant.

Carol saw the confusion in his eyes and said, "Do we have a deal Devon?" She reached down, took hold of her tee shirt, and pulled it over her head so he could see her breasts.

Devon gasped as her nipples came into view. He couldn't believe his luck. He said, "Sure Carol we have a deal. You look real pretty like that, Carol Ann." If she was willing and Devon didn't have to rape her, it was only polite to give the girl a compliment. If there was one thing Devon understood was that women loved compliments.

Carol forced herself to smile and said, "Show me how you like it Devon." She said this in what she hoped was a seductive voice but at fourteen her only experience with seduction came from television and movies.

It worked because Devon came closer to her. Carol slipped out of her pajama bottoms as he watched and said, "Let's get on the bed." She was naked now and Devon was excited, hard, and not focused on anything but her. She smiled at him, lay back on her mattress and spread her legs, opening herself to him.

He said, "God damn honey. You are one sexy little bitch." He moved closer, unbuckling his pants as he came to her. He was singularly focused on her pussy and that is exactly what she wanted.

Carol slid to the side on the small twin mattress and let her right hand drop between the mattress and the wall. She felt the thread bare carpet, but didn't find the awl. It had to be down there somewhere. She kept her eyes focused on Devon who had his pants off and his erection pointed at her. He got on the bed and said, "Let's take our time with it tonight honey." Carol realized he called her 'honey' which is what he called her mother. It made her want to wretch and she could smell him. The scent of smoke, beer, and body odor mixing nearly made her gag.

She said, "Anything you want tonight."

He pushed her knees apart and she slid down closer to him, her right hand still hunting for salvation. Her fingertips found the wooden handle of the awl and she tried to grasp it, but she needed one more inch, maybe two.

Devon said, "I'll show you how girls suck cock in a minute but first I gotta get in that pussy."

He was holding himself as he knelt between her legs and she saw his thick hardness pointing out of a tuft of black and gray tangles of pubic hair. She said, "Let me touch it. Let me put it in". She used her left hand to reach down and take Devon in her hand, scooting her body a few inches closer to him. He said, "Oh yeah that's it. Put it in that tight pussy of yours."

She smiled, squeezed him with her left hand, and said, "Fuck you." Her right hand was up and she drove the awl into his right eye as deeply as she could.

Devon screamed first with shock, then with pain and fear. He pushed back away from her. His eye was on fire. He screamed, "What the fuck did you do?" Carol still had the awl in her hand, the metal point slick and red with blood and something gooey. She watched as he stood, hand over his eyes socket, dripping blood through his finger tips and down his cheek. He moved his hand and she saw the bloody hole where an eyeball should have been. Something like jelly seemed to be spilling out of the wound. His remaining eye fell on her and he bellowed, "You fucking cunt".

He stumbled toward her and she said, "Fuck you" again and launched herself at him. This time she stabbed him in the throat, again hard and deep, holding on to his shoulders, legs wrapped around him. She tried to stab him again, aiming for the other eye, but missed and tore a flap out of his cheek.

He spun around in a circle, tossing her off him and against the wall. She felt something break in her arm but sat up, dazed, holding the awl out in front of her. But Devon was not coming after her anymore. A gout of blood was spurting from his throat where she had severed at least part of his carotid artery. It sprayed out across her dresser and then across her wall, covering her in a warm sticky spray of arterial blood.

He gurgled something that might have been, "Cunt". He stumbled out into the hallway, blood still spurting from his wound. He banged off one wall leaving another spray of blood and a hand print. He was headed for the bathroom where they kept a first aid kit with bandages. He rebounded off the other wall and then fell down. His vision was going dark and he was cold and tired. He rolled onto his back and tried to sit up but his body no longer seemed to be responding to his brain's commands.

Then his one good eye saw a shape moving toward him up the hallway. For a moment he thought it was his mother, but that couldn't be right. Then recognition hit him. It was Carol. She was naked for some reason. He tried to say, "Help me" but only gurgling sounds came out. Then she was on top of him, something in her hand, something sharp, and somewhere fear filled his last living seconds. Carol's fist came down on his chest with a thump and a fiery lance of pain went through him. But Devon couldn't move. He was just too weak and so, so tired. Carol's fist came down again. He didn't feel the pain this time, but heard the 'thump' sound. He closed his eyes wondering what was happening to him.

Devon Truly died as Carol Murphy stabbed him again, and again, and again, and again.

Four

Jamal was working on some corporate filings for Mitchell Industries when the senior partner called a meeting in the main conference room. The partner, a man named Miles DeAngelo, oversaw Jamal and five other attorneys and their case load. Jamal thought the man was too soft to be a partner and worse yet a liberal. Jamal and his cohort of lawyers filed into the conference room to find Miles and a woman dressed in a pant suit she probably bought at a Walmart.

Miles introduced the woman as Jane Duvall who headed up a legal outreach program in partnership with two local universities and the prosecutors offices. Miles told the young lawyers that he was committed to equal access to the law and they would be partnering with Jane Duvall to assist people who could not afford legal services. Jamal had raised a hand and said, "What does that mean specifically for us?"

Miles smiled and said, "I'm glad you asked. What it means is that each of you will be expected to take on one or two cases in addition to your work load, pro bono." The five lawyers exchanged glances. None of them were working less than sixty hour weeks as it were. There was a collective groan that seemed to go through the group.

Miles said, "Hey now people, we work in a profession that has protected the rights of men and women since this country was founded. It's an honor to live in a country that enshrines rights for all of us in its laws." He paused and said, "And if my speech about the greatness of our country and its rich tradition of equal treatment under the law doesn't move you, maybe this will. Anyone who doesn't take a case and work it seriously, will not be looked upon with favor when its time to give out the annual bonuses. Is that clear enough?"

Jane Duvall had come with ten legal cases in red binders. Most were drug or drug related crimes for the indigent, mentally ill, or just plain poor people who had been caught up in the ever widening net of mass incarceration. Jamal looked through three or four of the files until he came upon one that interested him. A young girl named, Carol Murphy was being charged with first degree murder of her mother's boyfriend.

Jamal thought, Jesus what the hell happened? He read the police report and sometime around 2AM the police had been called to the girl's trailer. They found the boyfriend dead on the floor and Carol naked on top of him, stabbing him with a tool she had stolen from her school. The autopsy report showed that Carol had stabbed him seventy four times and more than thirty had been in the man's genitals.

Another lawyer reading over his shoulder said, "Ouch. That must have hurt." Jamal grunted and turned the page. He wanted to know why she had done this. Fourteen year old girls don't commonly stab their mother's boyfriend once or even twice, let alone seventy four times. And why was she naked when they found her?

Details were scarce. The investigators were overworked and this wasn't exactly a who done it situation. But one thing about the report raised Jamal's interest. The girl had refused to give a statement. The authorities that held her had family services try to talk to her, a cop, and even a therapist, but the girl refused to say a word. The case was referred to a young assistant district attorney who had political ambitions.

He was a 'tough on crime' type of guy who supported the mayor's crackdown on the whores and drugs in the city. He decided to charge Carol as an adult with first degree murder given the amount of drugs and the seriousness of the crimes. Jamal thought that was patently ridiculous, but it did create a stir in the community and this case had already gotten minor national attention. Jamal looked up at Miles and said, "I'll take this one."

Miles smiled and said, "Thank you Jamal. The rest of you should show Jamal's enthusiasm."

The young lawyer sitting next to Jamal whispered, "Well that's a loser. You don't want to get caught up in a murder trial. It will take a year just to get through it. You going to try to plead her down to manslaughter?"

Jamal looked over at the man, shrugged and said, "No. I thought I would get her acquitted."

The man laughed and said, "You might get her off the first ten stabs, but seventy four? I don't think so. Plus she stole the weapon from school. That shows intent and premeditation. You're fucked buddy."

Jamal shrugged, took the file, and went back to his desk. He made a call and arranged to see the girl in the morning.

Five

Jamal drove out to the juvenile detention center at 8:00 in the morning, showed his ID and was eventually led down a labyrinth of hallways to a small windowless office where Carol's social worker sat behind a desk overflowing with stacks of paper. Her name was Monica Winfield and she was younger than Jamal. She looked up at him holding a cup of coffee and said, "Who are you? You look like a high priced lawyer."

Jamal smiled and said, "Well, I am a high priced lawyer. My name is Jamal Davis, and I represent Carol Ann Murphy."

This surprised the young woman who sighed and said, "What a pain in the ass. I've got reporters calling me every day over that little psychopath."

Jamal sat down in a folding chair without being asked and said, "So you are her social worker?"

Monica said, "Please sit down", and then ruffled through a set of files and found one. She said, "And why Mr. Davis are you here? I don't think our resident celebrity can afford your services."

Jamal said, "She can't, but my boss is a fucking liberal and thinks young attorneys should provide services to the poor to build character. I think he is trying to buy his way into heaven or something so here I am."

The woman laughed and said, "Well Mr. Davis, welcome to my world." She handed Jamal the file and said "The state is going to try her as an adult if they can. The DA assigned to this one has an axe to grind and he really can't afford to lose this case. He's part of the mayor's clean up the city team and your client killed a man with an awl she stole from her school. Stabbed him 70 times or something."

Jamal took the file which had a few more pages than the one he had already read. He asked, "Any idea why she did that?"

The woman shrugged. "Drugs most likely. There was crack cocaine and residue all over the trailer. It's so bad they will probably have to destroy it and I'm not even sure a land fill will take it."

Jamal said, "So the girl was on crack?"

Monica said, "I don't think so. I mean she had some residue on her clothes, but she tested clean. Came in with a broken arm so we did the whole piss test thing and checked her out for signs of rape. You know the usual shit."

Jamal asked, "Was she raped?"

The woman shrugged, "Not the night she killed the guy. Can't say one way or another before that."

Jamal said, "So you are telling me that a fourteen year old girl, who has no evidence of drug use, woke up one morning and decided to stab her mom's boyfriend seventy four times, mutilating his genitals, because what? she was bored?"

Monica said, "Mr. Davis, I currently have 231 open cases on juveniles. I am not an investigator. I am a humble public servant trying to keep these kids alive in basically a prison system. I don't have all the answers and your client isn't talking. I've spent a couple of hours with her and the most I got out of her was, 'Fuck off bitch.'"

Jamal laughed and said, "She sounds charming."

Monica said, "She's something."

Jamal nodded and said, "Okay so can I see her?"

Monica said, "You can, but she won't talk to you. We've tried everything to ask her what the hell happened in that trailer. But she won't talk. She won't even tell us why she won't talk."

Jamal was now even more interested. He said "And you are seriously going to try her as an adult?"

Monica sighed, exasperated, and said, "No Mr. Davis, I am a social worker. I don't try anyone as anything. But the ADA is a hard core anti drug zealot who thinks he will be mayor or God help us President one day. He is taking the war on drugs seriously. Do drugs, be around drugs, say the word drugs, and he thinks it is his God given duty to put you in jail. Murder someone while on drugs, well you can imagine his stance." She paused and added, "Ironically the little prick's son is in a five hundred dollar a day treatment facility upstate, but I've sort of gotten used to the hypocrisy in my job at this point."

Jamal said, "I thought you said she wasn't on drugs?"

Monica shrugged and said, "Well the boyfriend and mother certainly were."

Jamal said, "Where is the mother by the way?"

Monica leaned back in her chair and said, "The women's detention center. They found her after the incident with her daughter. She was high and had a few crack rocks on her. I don't do adults but last I heard she was detoxing pretty badly."

Jamal asked, "You think we could find out where she is? I might need to talk to her too. She's a material witness."

Monica eyed him and said, "You are serious? You are going to do depositions? I figured you would just go try to get a plea deal."

Jamal said, "Nope, no plea deal. She walks or she does the time but I'm not here to deal until I have all the facts."

Monica looked at him like he must be crazy. She said, "And this is pro bono for you?"

Jamal nodded. Monica considered him for a long moment and then said, "Okay Mr. Davis, I may have judged you prematurely. Most of your colleagues come in here ready to quit before they start. This pro bono work pays nothing and is generally a nuisance to those of you in private practice."

Jamal said, "It is a nuisance, but it's my job and I hate to lose."

Monica laughed and said, "Okay let me make some calls about the mother." She turned and picked up the phone, dialed a number and spoke for a minute. She looked up at Jamal while she was on hold and said, "Coffee is down and to the right if you want some. This will probably be a couple minutes."

Jamal stood and got the single worst cup of coffee he had ever had or would have in his life. He took a sip and promptly dropped it in the trash can. Monica appeared a minute later, white faced and said, "I found the mother."

Jamal said, "And?"

Monica shook her head. She said, "Dead apparently. She had a seizure during the detox and went into cardiac arrest in her cell."

Jamal thought for a moment and said, "God damn it. She was a witness."

Monica said, "She was also the girl's mother. You are going to have to tell her."

Jamal said, "Why me? Aren't you the social worker?"

Monica smiled and said, "Yah but you are her attorney, and I have to be in court. You can find your client on the tenth floor. Check in with the security desk and they will arrange for a conference room."

Jamal closed his eyes. What the hell had he gotten himself into.

Six

It took an hour, but Jamal eventually was taken to a small conference room designated for attorneys and their incarcerated clients. He stepped inside with a guard and saw Carol Ann Murphy for the first time in his life. The two were a study in contrast. She was thin, had dark hair down to her shoulders, brown eyes, and was dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit. She was too thin for the jumpsuit and her body seemed to be swimming in it. Her right arm was handcuffed to a steel ring on the table, specifically for that purpose. Her left arm was in a splint where her broken bone was healing.

Dancing with Devils - Ch. 05 by T_S_Wolfe

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1.0

Jamal looked at the guard and said, "Take off the handcuffs please."

The guard said, "You sure? You know she killed a man."

Jamal said, "I think I could take her." Jamal was more than twice her weight, more than a foot taller than she was, and Carol looked like she was in a state of shock. Not to mention she only had use of one arm.

The guard shrugged and said, "Whatever buddy. Just call when you want to be let out."

Jamal nodded and then was left alone with Carol. He sat down in the chair across from her and stared at her, saying nothing. Carol stared back also saying nothing. One minute passed, then another. Jamal was curious. Most people when faced with uncertainty like a new person staring at them, could not keep quiet for more than a few seconds. Carol was alert and staring at him, but said nothing.

Finally he said, "Your name is Carol and you are here because you killed one Devon Truly by stabbing him seventy four times with an awl you stole from your school. The state of New York has charged you with first degree murder. You planned the attack, acquired a weapon used in the attack weeks before, and were found nude, straddling the victims body, continuing to stab him even after he was obviously dead." He paused but Carol made no effort to respond. Jamal continued. "The state is going to try you as an adult and do their very best to put you in prison for the rest of your life, which at your age, would be a very, very long time."

He held her eyes and then said, "I work for a law firm in the city and my boss has assigned me to defend you so that does not happen. I didn't ask for this job and if you do not wish me to represent you, you can fire me right now and I will leave. I will never see you again and you can spend every tomorrow you have in this shit hole or one that is much worse." He paused for dramatic effect and said, "I have one question for you and if you refuse to answer it, I will get up and leave."

Carol's lip quivered once but that was the only reaction he got out of her. He said, "It is a yes or no question. We are not being recorded and this is just between you and I. I am merely curious." Carol shifted in her chair and Jamal asked, "Was it worth it?"

Carol's eyes went wide with surprise. She sat silently considering Jamal and then said softly, "Yes".

Jamal nodded and said, "Good. You have to live with what happens next, so I'm glad it was worth it."

Carol Murphy stared at the black man who she had never met, holding his eyes, considering him. Then she said, "You are my attorney?"

Jamal said, "Yes. I am your attorney. Whatever we talk about is considered privileged which means I can't tell anyone else. Do you understand?"

Carol nodded and said, "Yes. I'm not stupid and I've seen crime shows on TV."

That made Jamal smile and he said, "The real world is a bit more complicated than TV Carol. The cops aren't here to help you, the social workers are overworked or don't give a shit, and to the judges, prosecutors, and jailers you are just a giant pain in the ass. Now do you really want to spend the rest of your life in this shit hole."

Carol considered him and said, "No".

He said, "Good. Now tell me what happened and don't leave anything out."

It took the better part of two hours for Jamal to get the facts out of her. He was once again impressed with the girl. She had not only endured a hell that not many could imagine, she had killed a man rather than let him abuse her, and risked her own life to do it. He would cross reference every thing she said with the facts of the case in case she was a sociopathic liar, but Jamal believed her.

He said, "I'm going to check out everything you just told me and if there is one lie in it, then I am going to let you rot in here. Do you understand?"

She nodded, thought about it, and said, "The only person you can check with is my mother." She paused and said, "She is an addict and a liar. Don't fall for her bullshit."

Jamal had forgotten about the mother, having been so engrossed with Carol's story. He said, "I'm afraid your mother was arrested for possession the night of the incident. She had a seizure when she was detoxing and I'm afraid she didn't survive."

Carol sat back in her chair, eyes wide in surprise. She said, "My mom is dead?"

Jamal nodded and said, "I'm sorry Carol."

Carol looked at him, thought for a moment and said, "I'm not".

Jamal stared at her and thought, Interesting. Then he nodded and said, "I'll be in touch" and got up and left her to stare after him.

Seven

Jamal spent the next week with a stack of post it notes of various colors, making notes, checking statutes, and cross referencing other cases and formulating a defense for Carol Ann Murphy. Seven days after he met Carol, he took his file to the prosecutors office where he had an appointment with the prosecuting attorney. He arrived in his suit and tie to find the prosecutor in jeans and a pullover golf shirt. The man's name was Winston Cromwell and came from a family that could trace its roots back to the Mayflower. He was a rising star in the who's who of New York politics and was doing a stint as an ADA to pad his political resume.

When Jamal arrived he was talking on his phone at his desk, discussing a golf tee time. He motioned for Jamal to come sit down.

Winston hung up the phone and said, "Jamal Davis?"

Jamal nodded and shook hands with the man. Winston said, "So you made an appointment about this Murphy case, right?"

Jamal said, "Yes sir I did."

Winston smiled affably, his politician's smile, and said, "Well I have a tee time in an hour so let's cut to the chase. We can offer a first degree manslaughter charge in exchange for a confession and guilty plea. I will drop the first degree murder charge. Your client would have to do fifteen years, but I would be willing to recommend parole after ten years served. She signs the paperwork this afternoon and we get a judge to sign off on it and this whole thing is over by Friday. You can tell your bosses you got a win and I can tell the public we got a violent criminal off the streets. Everyone wins. What do you say?"

Jamal sat staring at the weasel. Finally he said, "I'm afraid I can't accept those terms, but I do have a counter proposal."

Winston sighed and said, "A counter proposal? What I offered was fair and within the normal guidelines Mr. Davis. I know this is pro bono for you so maybe you just aren't familiar with how things work. If you don't take this deal we will prosecute the first degree charge. We have an open and shut case. I am sure you are aware of the facts. We have the murder weapon with her finger prints on it. Hell we have witnesses watching her stab the victims body. We know she stole the murder weapon and from where, weeks earlier. She waited until he was high on drugs and stabbed him. No evidence of rape; no evidence of anything other than she killed him." He paused and said, "Take the deal Jamal and let's all go home."

Jamal smiled and said, "You haven't even heard my counter proposal."

Winston sighed and said, "Okay have it your way. What do you have in mind?"

Jamal said, "You drop all the charges against my client and issue an apology for detaining her."

Winston stared at Jamal and then burst out laughing. He said, "Anything else? I mean should we get her a key to the city too?"

Jamal said, "No she doesn't want a key to the city. Just her freedom and record cleared. That's my offer and I am very serious." He stood and said, "The offer is good for forty eight hours". Jamal checked his watch and said, "That would be Friday morning, but we are reasonable so I will give you until noon to decide. We would need the paperwork signed off by the judge before the end of the day. My client has dinner plans on Friday evening she doesn't want to miss."

Now Winston was angry. He stood up and said, "I don't know who you think you are or where you went to law school, but this is not how shit works. What you are offering isn't even in the realm of possibility. Plea deals are just that, deals. Your client murdered a man and you want the state to just let her get away with it."

Jamal smiled and said, "Killed a man. Not murdered."

Winston said, "Oh bullshit, you saw the evidence."

Jamal shrugged and said, "I'm sorry we couldn't come to an agreement. I'll let you get to your tee time and I'll see you in court."

Winston was shocked, caught off guard and confused. He said, "That's it? You really want to go to court and lose?"

Jamal turned back to the man and said, "You are under the misguided opinion that I would lose. I have no intention of losing. In fact I am 100 percent confident that I will win. Would you like me to explain to you how I plan to do that so you understand the consequences of your decision to refuse my offer?"

Winston was also standing behind his desk, perplexed. Was the man crazy. He shrugged and said, "Please enlighten me."

Jamal smiled and said, "First I am going to point out that the initial stabbing came in side Carol's bedroom and it was after midnight so she was likely asleep. I can't prove she was asleep, but neither can you disprove it. Then I am going to take every one of the arresting officers through the narrative that Mr. Truly was assaulting my client and she knew he was planning to assault her so she had taken the awl from he school to protect herself. I will have experts on blood splatter analyze every single picture from the scene to prove what your investigators already believe, that Devon Truly was stabbed three times before he died. All three of those wounds were inflicted in Carol's room in an act of self defense. The other seventy one injuries were all post mortem and the result of a mental break over being raped by Mr. Truly a few weeks before. There is zero evidence that my client was anything more than a terrified teen ager that was raped by Mr. Truly and then defended herself from him in a second assault."

Winston laughed and said, "And you think you can get that all in court."

Jamal said, "Yes, but worse yet, at least for you, I can get all of that in the newspaper and on television. And you will be the prosecutor that is trying to try a fourteen year old girl who was raped as an adult. You will be famous. Can you imagine the debates across America if we get her on the morning talk shows with her story? Teen girl versus vicious prosecutor. I don't know we may have to work on the tag line."

Winston said, "Let me guess you are going to put the mother on TV begging for her daughter? That won't do much since she's a crack whore."

Jamal smiled and said, "No she was a crack whore. She died last night of a seizure in one of your detention facilities. I think a midnight vigil for Carol outside the juvenile detention center has a nice television feel to it. Imagine a few hundred mourners coming to show support for a teen girl who was first raped, then thrown in jail by an overzealous prosecutor, who failed to provide medical care for her mother who was an addict." Jamal paused and said, "And we could get the tabloids involved. Maybe it wasn't a seizure. Maybe the prosecutors and cops had the mother killed because of what she was about to reveal about the case. Everyone loves a good conspiracy theory. And I think I could keep that story alive for at least a year with all the motions for experts and discovery and continuances. I think that would take us right up until the mayoral elections. It will be quite a ratings war to see which story pulls more viewers. I know you like being on TV. Just imagine all those people chanting, 'Free Carol' as your boss is trying to convince them to vote for him."

Winston was now pale. He said, "You can't be serious?"

Jamal said, "Of course I'm serious." He stared at the man and said, "The girl is out by close of court on Friday, or the press will get my analysis of the case in time for Sunday's paper. Good luck with your golf game Winston."

Jamal turned and left the way he had come. He had to get back to the office. Willard Mitchell was waiting on a contract and Willard was an impatient man.

Eight

Jamal got the notification on Thursday morning that the prosecutors office had dropped all charges against Carol. She was remanded to the State's child protective services department as a victim, not a criminal. The results were not identical but similar. She had no family so spent the next three years in a variety of foster care facilities, some run by the state, some by families who housed the orphans who were not lucky enough to be adopted. No one adopted a 15 year old girl who had killed a man, even if it was in self defense.

Jamal didn't see the girl again for several years. By then he was working full time for Mitchell Industries and Willard. He was out at a luncheon with a few colleagues discussing a case he wanted dismissed. The luncheon broke up and the waitress approached him and said, "Are you Jamal Davis?" He nodded and she said, "The woman at the bar would like a word."

He turned and saw an attractive, but young woman with dark hair sitting there in heels, a black wool skirt, and expensive silk top. She fit in so well to the upscale restaurant that Jamal had not noticed her. He approached and she turned to him. She smiled softly and Jamal thought, She's beautiful. He said, "May I help you?"

The woman said, "I certainly hope so." She extended a hand and said, "I'm Carol Ann Murphy. Do you remember me?"

Jamal had been shocked but when she said her name, recognition flooded over him. She had grown up and must now be in her late twenties. A finger of fear touched his heart. Why was she here? He said, "I see you have grown up."

She nodded and said, "Yes. I managed to trade one prison for another the last time we saw each other, but because of you, it was a three year term, not a lifetime".

He nodded and said, "I hear that child protective services is rough."

She said, "You are correct, but at least I wasn't raped. I guess that's the best I could hope for, given my circumstance."

Jamal nodded and said, "You seem to be doing better now."

She nodded, "Much better, which is why I need to talk to you."

Jamal checked his watch and said, "I have a few minutes and I must admit you have me curious about what you want."

Carol said, "Are you still my attorney? Does that client privilege still extend to me?"

Jamal thought about it and said, "Are you currently being charged with a crime?" Carol shook her head 'no', and Jamal said, "You could retain my services and the privilege would be extended. My fee for this conversation is one dollar."

Carol smiled, reached into her purse and handed the man a dollar bill.

Jamal smiled, put the dollar in his breast pocket and said, "So what happened to you?"

Carol told him. She was released from protective custody on her eighteenth birthday. She left the facility with a plastic bag that contained two pair of underwear, two bras, to pairs of pants, and one long sleeve, and one short sleeve cotton blouse. The state also issued her a fifty dollar Visa gift card.

She spent her first week of freedom at a homeless shelter. There she met other women who were down on their luck, many of whom reminded her of her mother. Mentally ill drug users and she finally saw the scope and power of the drugs her mother had used. She still hungered or that power, linking it emotionally to safety and security.

She worked a part time job at night and was robbed at gunpoint by a man who needed money to feed his habit. Carol gave him the money from her drawer without a word of complaint. The manager fired her after the incident.

From there she enlisted in the military and with the new found structure and clear lines of authority, she thrived. Carol earned a college degree in criminal justice with a minor in psychology. That gave her insights why people did what the did and what motivated them, and how people worked. She also found an interest in fire arms, weapons, and other tools that could be used for protection from the evil in the world. She joined the shooting team and always ranked at the top of the leaderboard in most competitions both with rifles and hand guns.

After four years she was discharged and went to Miami. She picked Miami because it was winter when she was discharged and she heard Miami was warm in the winter. In Miami she moved between half way houses until she met Miguel Sanchez. Miguel was a waif of a man, but Carol ended up liking him. He was not physically large or intimidating, didn't use drugs, and most importantly he was gay. He had no interest in Carol sexually. The two got a shared apartment north of Miami.

While Miguel didn't use drugs, he did occasionally deal on the side to make money. Carol knew this and they talked about it alot. Carol came to understand that it wasn't the drugs that were evil, it was the people that used them. And for Miguel it was how he made his share of the rent. That further reinforced her jaded and Nihilistic tendencies. Miguel was arrested once for possession and spent three days in a Miami lockup. He returned to the apartment bruised from the beatings the police had administered during the arrest and the one he endured from a cell mate.

That night the two had talked and Carol told him that he was being stupid. Street dealing was not worth the risk. Carol came up with a plan to balance the risk and reward. She spent a week sketching out a business plan. The plan was simple enough. They would scrape together some money, buy a kilo of cocaine, cut it, and sell it for three times what they paid for it. They would then use the profits to buy a larger package and begin to wholesale, instead of deal. The financial projections were astonishing when Carol put them on paper.

And that is what they did with one minor hiccup.

Nine

Their first deal went down in their shared apartment. A dealer who had been around for awhile, who went by the street name, Tatum agreed to sell them a kilo of cocaine. The man was a street thug who had been in and out of jail since he was a teen. Miguel arranged the deal and Carol observed. Tatum put the kilo on the table and said, "You got the money?"

Miguel nodded and produced an envelope full of every dollar the two had managed to scrape together. They would have to sell some product in the next three days to make rent. The man took the envelope and smiled. Then he said, "Seems a little short?"

Miguel shook his head and said, "It's all there."

Tatum said, "You forgot my delivery fee. Going to need another five hundred."

Carol was watching and went angry. She knew Tatum was trying to squeeze them. Miguel protested, and Tatum said, "Tell you what. I'll hang onto the shit and your downpayment until you have the full amount." He put the envelope in his pocket and the brick of cocaine back in the backpack he arrived with.

Miguel said, "Wait you can't do that?"

Tatum looked up and said, "What are you going to do about it. You're just a little faggot living with that skank over there." He glanced at Carol and said, "Now if she wants to suck some dick, I might waive the fee."

Carol looked at the man coldly, and got up and went to her room. The man said, "I guess not. She a dyke or something?"

He turned to leave with both their money and his cocaine when Carol returned from her bedroom and said, "Wait Tatum I changed my mind."

Tatum turned back, confused, and said, "Yeah?"

She said, "Yeah." She smiled seductively and said, "It's just a blowjob".

Miguel eyed her, confused as she moved closer to Tatum who stood by the door. Tatum grinned and said, "Let's go to the back room."

She reached out her left hand to take his, presumably lead him back to her room. He took it and without warning she gracefully slid close to him and plunged the Gerber combat knife into Tatum's gut just below the rib cage, pushed it up into his heart, just like she had been taught. Tatum's eyes went wide and he gasped once, and dropped dead onto the floor, bleeding into an oval puddle.

Dancing with Devils - Ch. 05 by T_S_Wolfe

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1.0

0

1

000

Miguel said, "Jesus fucking Christ."

But Carol said, "Go get some trash bags and towels. He's bleeding on the floor."

Tatum was buried in a shallow grave in the everglades nine hours later. He was eventually found and whispers that a new player had emerged in the Miami drug trade.

Carol's business plan had worked better than she could have imagined, Miguel having a knack for recruiting and marketing. Carol took care of the back office, the money side of the business, but what made the business work was that she also served as the fixer of problems. She fixed three problems the first year, after fixing the Tatum problem. This cut down a few unethical suppliers and of course the competition.

She thought she was done killing people once her reputation was established. But a man from New York visited her once, a referral from her best supplier. He represented a group in the boroughs who were importing both cocaine and heroine. The man had a problem in Miami and he heard she might be able to help him. It was her first contract killing and it was easy enough. She stalked the man for three days, found out the bar he liked to drink at, slipped in next to him, flirted with him, and when he went to the bathroom slipped a fast acting poison into his drink. The man dropped dead behind the wheel of his car thirty minutes later and no one remembered the flirty blond he was talking to. For that Carol picked up twenty five thousand dollars in cash. She also earned the nickname 'Ice', which stood for in case of emergency. If you had an emergency, Carol could fix it for you. So, a few times a year she went on a business trip for a week or two, coming back with a backpack of hundred dollar bills.

Since she went into the contract business, she had killed eleven people. She didn't really think about it much. It was just something she did. It was her job, and she was good at it.

But with all her success, she had a new problem which is why she sought out Jamal Davis. Jamal had helped her when she was younger and he didn't bullshit her. He told her the truth. She didn't exactly trust him, but nor did she distrust him. He was her best option.

Ten

Jamal sat listening, fascinated by her narrative. He said, "That's quite a story Carol."

She nodded and said, "Which brings me to why I am here."

Jamal said, "Do tell."

Carol said, "Money. It's a problem."

Jamal looked at her and thought about it. "You can't put it in a bank."

Carol nodded. "There is a ten thousand dollar limit on withdrawals without filling out paperwork and about a billion records at banks."

Jamal said, "How much money are we talking about?"

Carol said, "Our operation is clearing roughly a million dollars a month give or take, depending on expenses."

Jamal sat back trying not to show his astonishment. The girl had less than fifty dollars on her the day she turned 18 and now was running a million dollar a month business. He said, "You need a money laundry."

She nodded. "Yes. I read your biography and know you have been working as a lawyer for Willard Mitchell. I also suspect that he is into some shady shit. Further you helped me once, even if you were made to do it, and I got the impression you didn't much give a shit if I was guilty or innocent as long as you won. So here I am. Can you help me Jamal?"

Jamal spent thirty seconds looking at her, thinking, and finally did the risk and reward calculus in his mind. He said, "Sure Carol. I can help you. For thirty percent."

Carol smiled and said, "Ten."

Jamal considered and said, "Twenty". They shook hands.

The relationship had worked out well. Jamal has set up a few legal entities both in the US, the Cayman Islands, and Panama. He also used his contacts in Mitchell Industries to create false business records to back up the laundry should the IRS or FBI ever get interested enough to look. They rarely met face to face but maintained a relationship. When Jamal called Carol answered and vice versa. They used burner phones exclusively. Jamal had called her for her professional services three times.

Eleven

Now Jamal put the file down on Mindy. While Mindy was no longer a threat, her foot prints were still out there. He had the security service come and tear his system apart and analyze the intrusion. That cunt had been in his system four times using her key logger. On the last occasion she had downloaded a copy of his hard drive, and four snapshots of his routinely run backup at various points over the last two years which was the default setting for the back up drive. What had she done with that copy? It probably didn't matter because she no doubt had hidden it. Now that she was dead, it would probably never be recovered. But Jamal worried about the word, 'probably.'

There was a light knock at his door and Jamal smiled. He got up and answered it. Carol stood in his hallway, dressed in jeans and a red blouse. She had red hair this time, an excellent wig. She was taller too, wearing high heels, and said, "Well hello sugar" in a southern accent.

Jamal smiled and said, "Good to see you Carol."

She grinned and said, "Who's Carol? I'm Tammy Jo from Mississippi." She stepped inside and when the door closed, she relaxed and Jamal saw her visibly change back into Carol. She was good at subterfuge.

She walked through Jamal's apartment, into every room, looked in every closet, and every other space where someone human sized might be hiding. Then she used a device to scan for electronic monitoring. Jamal let her, watching as she worked. When she was done she said in her own voice, "Sorry about that, but better safe than sorry. You taught me that."

He nodded and said, "I have something for you." He slipped an envelope of currency out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

She pocketed it and said, "No more short notice jobs Jamal. You know I like to do my research and don't like taking risks like that. If it had been anyone but you, I wouldn't have done it. You have used your one favor."

Jamal nodded, "Sorry about that but I admire the work. The cops are calling it a gang thing. How did you pull that off?"

She shrugged and said, "You know better than anyone the cops are just looking for a story to believe. I gave them a story. I put two of Miguel's brain dead street dealers in hoodies and had them play cowboys and Indians down on the street. The cameras picked all that up. I did the job from an alley behind the laundromat where there are no cameras."

Jamal was delighted. He said, "Kind of risky giving two coke heads guns to shoot at each other as a distraction."

Carol said, "I didn't give them real bullets. They used blanks. I just needed the casings on the ground for the cops to find."

Jamal said, "You have gotten very good at your job."

She nodded and said, "So why am I here? We could have done this the usual way with bitcoin and burner phones."

Jamal nodded and said, "I would like to keep you on retainer. Things are a little intense right now and I may need your services in the future."

Carol eyed him and said, "I'm retired Jamal. I'm out of the day to day with the drugs and don't need the money anymore."

Jamal said, "You are too young to retire."

She said, "Risk and reward, Jamal. Didn't you tell me that?'

He nodded and said, "I guess I need a bigger reward for you."

She raised an eyebrow and he said, "Would a million dollars retainer, plus triple your fee if I use your services in the next six months be enough to entice you?

She thought about it. She said, "I think two million as a retainer and five times my regular fee is more reasonable. I know you have the money." That was a very large amount of money but she knew the risk reward calculations Jamal was known for. Jamal would not call her with something like this without a reason. He was scared of something. She added, "I don't do celebrities, politicians or kids. They aren't worth the hassle."

Jamal said, "What about lawyers?"

Carol laughed softly and said, "That would almost be a public service."

Jamal grinned and handed her a paper copy of the research file on Kendall Baker. He said, "Do the research but don't do anything else. This might not even be necessary."

Carol looked at the blond woman on the cover and said, "Okay Jamal. I'll see what I can find out about her. She's not related to a congressman or anything?"

Jamal shook his head and said, "It's all in there. She's just a lawyer."

Carol flipped the book open and then looked up at Jamal. She said, "She's Jacob Mitchell's lawyer."

Jamal nodded and said, "Yes."

She thought about it and said, "That's celebrity adjacent Jamal. I don't want to know what you are up to, but I'm out. Killing Kendall would create a stir that the FBI may never let go of. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being hunted."

Jamal said, "It's a little more complicated than that. The risk is very low this would even be necessary. And you do have some self interest in this."

Carol raised an eyebrow and said, "Self interest?"

Jamal nodded. "There is a very small possibility that she could find my bitcoin wallet and see some unusual transactions. Not to mention the laundry."

Carol said, "Jesus Christ Jamal. You fucked me." Her face was red and she said, "You kept a record of our relationship?"

He lied, "Of course not. But like I told you when I set up the laundry, there is always some risk. Some of the clean money went through accounts at Mitchell Industries. You can't create millions of dollars of wealth and not have some record of it. The trick is to keep smart people from looking. I'm afraid Kendall might be a smart person, but she probably won't think to look. This is only insurance."

Carol thought about it. She had a fake passport and driver's license, money stashed around the world, and could run if she had to. She could be in Brazil, Belize, Mexico, or even Eastern Europe in less than 24 hours if it came to it. But she didn't want to run. She had been running for most of her life and in Miami she had bought a condo for cash and built a life. She liked the yoga studio and coffee shops along with the cuban food and music. She really didn't want to run.

She turned back to Jamal and said, "Tell me everything. If I'm involved, I want to know all the details."

Jamal sighed and began to tell her about security systems, key loggers, copies of hard drives, and of course Jacob, Mindy, and Kendall. When he was done she said, "Why would Kendall need to go away. I mean what you really need to go away is that copy of the hard drive."

Jamal thought about it and decided to tell Carol the truth. He said, "I get a bad feeling about this."

Carol said, "Why?"

Jamal shook his head and said, "Because Mindy was quite a bit more than a secretary that was fucking her boss. She sent me a sample of what she stole to make sure I knew it was real. She also told me that if anything bad happened to Jacob, she would ensure that his attorney got a copy of what she stole."

Carol said, "You didn't mention that. But this Mindy person is dead. What can she do now?"

Jamal said, "I don't know, but if she was clever enough to steal from me, she might be clever enough to set something complicated up. Maybe a friend mails something if she dies. Maybe she left an envelope ready to mail in case she herself was unable to do it. I don't know what she might have done, but I worry."

Carol said, "And I'm in that hard drive?"

Jamal said, "Not by name, but like I said, a forensic accountant might tear the laundry apart if they had reason to. If they looked hard enough they might be able to get back to you."

Carol said, "Oh fuck me."

She left thinking about Jamal Davis and Kendall Baker.

Dancing with Devils - Ch. 05 by T_S_Wolfe

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