Patterson, James - Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Ellis Cooper held his head up. Proudly. Like a soldier on parade.

The executioner stepped forward. He injected a dose of Pavulon, a total muscle relaxer which would stop Cooper's breathing.

Very soon Ellis Cooper's heart, lungs and brain stopped functioning.

Sergeant Cooper was pronounced dead by the warden of Central Prison at

1:31 A.M.

Sampson turned to me when it was over. “We just watched a murder,” he said. “Someone murdered Ellis Cooper, and they got away with it.”

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

PART TWO

JAM ILLA

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Thirty-Two

I was early to meet the flight coming into Gate 74 at Reagan International, and once I was at the airport I didn't know what to do with myself. I was definitely nervous, good nervous, with anticipation. Jamilla Hughes was coming to visit.

The airport was crowded at around four on a Friday afternoon. Lots of weary, edgy business-people sitting around ending their workweeks on the computer, or already off the clock at the bar, or reading magazines and popular novels that ranged from Jonathan Frantzen to Nora Roberts to Stephen King. I sat down, then popped up again. Finally I walked close to the large, expansive windows and watched a big American jet slowly taxi to the gate. Well, here we go. Am I ready? Is she?

Jamilla was in the second wave of passengers getting off the plane. She had on jeans, a mauve top, and a black leather car jacket that I remembered from our stakeouts together in New Orleans. The two of us had become fast friends on a bizarre homicide case that had started in her hometown of San Francisco, weaved its way through the South, including the Big Easy, then ended up on the West Coast again.

We had been talking about seeing each other ever since, and now we were actually doing it. It was pretty courageous on both of our parts; I just hoped it wasn't dumb. I didn't think so, and I hoped Jam felt the same way.

Jesus, I was twitching as she came walking up to me. She looked great, though. Nice, big smile. What was I so worried about?

“Where are the thick white clouds that are supposed to be covering the city as my plane approached? God, I could see everything the White House, Lincoln Memorial, the Potomac,” Jamilla grinned as she spoke.

I leaned in and gave her a kiss. “Not every city has mountains of fog like San Francisco. You need to travel more. Your flight okay?”

“Sucked,”Jamilla grinned again. “I don't like flying much these days, but I'm glad to be here. This is good, Alex. You're almost as nervous as I am. We never had trouble talking on stakeouts. We'll be fine. We'll be just fine. Now calm down, so I can calm down. Deal?” She grabbed me in both arms, hugged me, then kissed me lightly, but nicely, on the lips. That much better,“ she said, and smacked her lips. ”You taste good."

“You must like spearmint.”

“No, I like you.”

We were a whole lot more comfortable during the ride into Washington in my old Porsche. We talked about everything that had been happening since we'd last seen each other. At first, it was work stuff, but then we got into the whole terrorist mess, then how my family was, and hers, and as usual neither of us shut up once we got started which I love.

It was only as I pulled up to the house that things began to feel tense for me again. “You ready for this?” I asked before we got out of the car.

Jamilla rolled her eyes. “Alex, I have four sisters and three brothers back in Oakland. Are you ready for that?”

“Bring them on,” I said as I grabbed hold of her black leather duffel bag, which obviously held a bowling ball, and headed toward the house. I was holding my breath a little, but I was definitely glad that she was here. I hadn't been this excited in a long time.

“I missed you,” I said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Jam.

Ill

Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice

Chapter Thirty-Three

Nana had obviously been thinking about the appropriate welcoming dinner for a while. Jamilla offered to help, and of course Nana refused to let her so much as lift a little finger. So Jam trailed her into the kitchen anyway.

The rest of us followed to see what would happen next. Two immovable forces. This was high drama.

“Well all right then, all right,” Nana complained some, but I could tell she was pleased with the company. It allowed her to show off her wares, put us all to work, and test Jamilla at her leisure. She even managed to hum a little of' Lift Every Voice and Sing'while she worked. And then, so did Jamilla.

“You okay with pork chops in apple gravy, squash casserole, over-creamed potatoes? And you're not allergic to a little cornbread, are you? Or fresh peach cobbler and ice cream?” Nana asked several loaded questions at once.

“Love the pork chops, potatoes, peach cobbler,” Jamilla said as she examined the food. “Neutral on squash casserole. I make creamed cornbread at home. My grandma from Sacramento's recipe. You add creamed corn which makes it extra moist. Sometimes I throw in pork rinds, too.”

“Hmm,” Nana said. “That sounds pretty good, girl. I'll have to try it.”

“If it ain't broke...”Jannie decided to contribute.

“Keep your small mind open, ”said Nana, and wagged a crooked pinkie finger at Jannie. “That's if you ever want it to grow bigger, and don't want to remain a small person all your life.”

“I was just defending your cornbread, Nana,” said Jannie.

Nana winked. “I can take care of myself.”

Dinner was served in the dining room, with Usher, Yolanda Adams and Etta James on the CD player. So far, this was pretty good. Just what the doctor ordered.

“We eat like this every night,” Damon said. “Sometimes, we even have breakfast out here in the formal dining,” he told Jamilla. I could tell he already had a little crush on her. Hard not to, I suppose.

“Of course you do, like when the President stops over for tea,” Jamilla said and winked at Damon, then at Jannie.

“He comes here often,” Damon nodded. “How did you know? My dad tell you?”

“Think I saw it on CNN. We get that on the West Coast, you know. We all have TVs out by our hot tubs.”

Dinner and the small talk were a success at least I thought so.

The laughter was constant, and mostly relaxed. Little Alex sat in his highchair grinning the whole time. At one point Jamilla pulled Damon out of his seat and they danced a few steps to Aretha's'Who's Zoomin'Who?".

Nana finally rose from the table and proclaimed, “I absolutely forbid you to help with the dishes, Jamilla. Alex can pitch in. That's his job.”

“Cmon, then,” Jamilla said to Jannie and Damon. “Let's go out front and trade gossip about your daddy. And your Nana! You have questions, I have questions. Let's swap spit. You too, little man,” she said to Alex Jr. “You're excused from kitchen detail.”

I followed Nana out to the kitchen with about half of the dirty dinnerware stacked in my hands and arms.

“She's pleasant,” Nana said before we got there. “She's certainly full of life.” Then she started to cackle like one of those pesky crows in the old-time cartoons.

“What's so funny, old woman?” I asked. “You're really getting a big kick out of yourself, aren't you?”

“I am. Why wouldn't I? You're just dying on the vine to know what I think. Well, surprise, surprise. She's a real sweetheart. I'll give you that, Alex, you pick nice girlfriends. She's a good one.”

“No pressure,” I warned her as I set dirty dishes in the sink and turned on the hot water.

“Why would I do that? I've learned my lesson with you.” Then Nana started to laugh again. She seemed more like her old self. She'd gotten a clean bill of health from her doctor, or so she said.