Nick Stone: The King of Swords

'What was the take?' Penabaz asked Mandel, who was gawping into the open sports bag like he usually gawped at hot tail-mouth open, lower jaw slightly trembling, tongue licking the back of his lower lip.

Mandel took out two bricks of money.

'That ain't all of it. Must be at least ten to fifteen Gs in here. Hundreds and twenties,' Mandel said, ri?ing through the contents.

Penabaz wolf-whistled and grinned.

'What do you wanna do, Officer?' he asked Mandel.

'Book it into evidence-of course.'

'After you.' Penabaz grinned.

'What about this?' Mandel waved a finger over the carnage.

'We'll call it in when we get back to the car. They won't send no one out here till this blows over or…blows up. Let's roll.'

They walked out of the store, both already making plans for what they were going to do with the money. Mandel was thinking of that seriously sweet pussy a G would buy-maybe some nice clothes too, for the occasion; Penabaz would square his two bookies and lay some new bets.

It was sunny but the clouds were stealing the blueness back out of the sky again. Miami in the summer was always like this: overbearing heat and then overbearing rain that did nothing whatsoever to clear the air, simply made it worse.

Up ahead of them a lot of people were streaming into 54th Street, and a few too many were gathered around their empty prowler, but both men's sense of danger-imminent or imagined-was doused by their mutual and individual money-spending daydreams.

'Hey! '

A woman's voice behind them registered, but they didn't turn around.

'Hey! Police! Over here! Over here!'

They stopped and turned around.

A big woman in a bright yellow dress was running towards them, waving both her arms in the air.

'Roro's dead! Roro's dead! Boulette shot him! I saw the whole thing! I saw the whole thing!' she blurted out, panting and agitated, when she reached them.

'Who got shot, ma'm?' Penabaz asked her.

'Roro! ' the woman screamed. She was in her twenties, light-skinned, flushed red, eyes bugging out, close to hysterical. 'Back there in that hardware store! You've gotta come now!'

'Who's Ro-ro?'

'Roro-the store manager. My boss! He's dead! He got shot!'

'Which store, mam?' Penabaz spoke slowly and calmly, giving himself time and space to think-only he was fresh out of ideas and points of reference: this kind of thing hadn't happened before. They'd always got away clean.

'Back up there!' The woman pointed up the road.

'Someone was shot, you say?' Penabaz asked.

'YES!' She grabbed his arm. 'Come quick!'

Penabaz disengaged his arm and gave her a stern look. The woman wilted a little.

People were suddenly appearing out of nowhere, coming from houses and parked cars, coming down the street, all slowing and then stopping to see what was going on, gradually congealing into an audience.

'We can't do that right now, mam,' Penabaz said. 'We've got to watch 54th.'

'You can't…what?'

'Orders, mam, sorry. But we'll call it in and some officers will be over to assist you.'

'You mean…you ain't even gonna come look!'

The woman was almost in tears.

'Orders, mam. I'm very sorry.' Penabaz laid a comforting paw on her shoulder. He took a notebook out of his breast pocket. 'What's your name?'

'Garcelle,' the woman said. 'Garcelle Tomas-no "H".'

'What's the name of the store?'

'Orders my ass!' a man grumbled loudly from within the thick semi-circle of people standing around watching. A few people laughed.

Penabaz didn't catch what Garcelle said, but he scribbled nonsense on his pad.

'You just don't give a fuck!' someone else accused, louder, bolder.

'One less nigger to worry about!' yelled another.

'Right on! Tell it, brother, tell it!'

Penabaz looked at the crowd and tried to project authority, but the size of it-close to thirty people now-shocked and shook him. He glanced at Mandel and saw fear all over his partner's face.

'We're gonna call it in right now, mam, don't worry,' Penabaz said to Garcelle, as firmly as he could manage against the anxiety fast flooding into him.

He started heading for the car, Mandel following.

'HEY!' Garcelle shouted, coming after them, the crowd following. 'What, what's that?'

The cops pretended they hadn't heard her and carried on walking, but faster.

'Let's get the fuck outta here,' Mandel whispered to Penabaz.

Garcelle grabbed Mandel's arm and stopped him in his tracks.

'THAT'S RORO'S BAG YOU CARRYIN'!' she shouted.

'Wa-hat…th-th-this?' Mandel stammered, pointing at the bag.

'Yeah-THAT! That is money for when he retired. He was gonna build himself a place back home in Haiti! Boulette came in and robbed him. Only Roro shot him before he could get away. Now you the thieves!'

The crowd fanned out and encircled the three of them.

'You're m-m-mistaken,' Mandel said. 'It's mine.'

'You paint a little white monkey under your bag, Officer?'

'Wah-what?'

'Roro did. A little white monkey. Bet if you turn that bag over there'll be a little white monkey on there. It was Roro's mark, on account of how he was always eatin' bananas. Go on and show me under the bag. If the monkey ain't there, you can go on your way. If it is there, then you a thief-Officer. Show me the bag. Come on!'

Mandel looked to Penabaz for a lifeline.

'SHOW ME THE BAG!' Garcelle shouted.

Shaking, Mandel lifted up the bag.

On the underside was a small painting of a chimp in profile, eating a banana under a palm tree.

'Thief!' Garcelle spat at him. 'Gimme that bag!'

Then Penabaz intervened, holding up his hands.

'This isn't the way it looks at all, mam. We were taking this bag away for safekeeping.'

'Safekeepin' my ass! You just about the keepin' part! You just told me-and everyone else here-you didn't even go to the store!' And without letting go of Mandel's arm, she turned to the crowd. 'Didn't y'all hear him say that?'

'YES, WE DID!' the crowd hollered back.

'DIDN'T. Y'ALL. HEAR. HIM. SAY THAT!'

'YES WE DID!'

'You lyin'-ass thievin'-ass corrupt cop!' Garcelle said to Mandel.

'Let's kick they asses!' a man yelled.

'Give this back!' The woman grabbed at the bag's handle, but the cop held on. They struggled. Garcelle, urged on by the onlookers, was getting the upper hand while Mandel was losing his grip and with it his nerve.

Penabaz saw this and knew it was time for drastic action.

He drew his gun and pointed it at Garcelle.

'Let go and step away NOW!'

She didn't. He cocked the hammer to emphasize his intent.

The crowd backed off a little.

Garcelle let go of the bag but didn't move away. She stood where she was with her hands by her sides, terrified, incredulous and above all angry. There were tears in her eyes.

'Roro worked all his goddamned life for that money,' she said. 'And you-you just steal it offa him.'

The cops began to back away.

'You should be ashamed of yourselves!' Garcelle yelled after them. 'And I got your names too! Penabaz and Mandel. I'm gonna report your thievin' asses!'

Mandel stopped walking.

'Fuck this,' he whispered.

'What are you doing?' Penabaz asked.

'I'm giving it back.'

'The fuck you are!'

'We're busted. I ain't goin' to jail-'

Behind them, the cops heard an almighty crash. They turned and saw their car being beat to shit by a mob with bats, clubs and metal poles. The back window had been staved in, the tyres slashed and a couple of kids were on the roof, kicking out the lights.

And it was worse: a mass of people were moving up towards them from 54th Street.

From Garcelle's end, people were doing the same.

The two cops looked at each other. They knew they were fucked.