Latoya: Episode VIII – Dangerous Pursuits

 

 As I was driving my car I promised myself that I must do whatever it takes to crack this LaToya case. Mr. Sessoms  have already promised me that this case is my ticket to getting my green card. And, I desperately need that green card to get ahead in America; and Mr. Sessoms’ promise is a good motivation for me.

Tosha, my sweet girlfriend also wanted to help me get the green card, you know, through marriage. There’s nothing wrong with her doing that for me because I truly love her and want to marry her for real. It’s just that I’m one of those guys who doesn’t believe in having things dropped into my lap without me working for it. I believe in perspiring to acquire my desires. Besides, if I get my green card from my job, I will be sending a good message to Tosha when we eventually got married and settle down: that my love for her is real, and that I didn’t marry her just to get a green card.

Tosha!

Just thinking about this made me to start missing her. I can’t go to her house at this time because I need to focus on this LaToya’s case. But I have not spoken to her in while, and I’m sure she’ll be getting mad at me by now. So, I decided to give her a call. I stopped by a phone booth around the corner and dialed her number.

“Hey, hon,” her voice didn’t show any excitement.

“What, no social life? You didn’t go out with friends?” I asked.

“I’m not in the mood, Emeka,” she said. “I’m feel so sick and mad.”

“You got the flu or something?”

“No,” she said. “I’m mad at you!”

“Take it easy, baby,” I said. “I know I should have called you earlier, but I have been busy. You have every reason to be mad. I promise I will make it up…”

“I’m not talking about that,” she cut me off. “I’m talking about our relationship. I don’t know where it’s heading.”

“Common now…”

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “I have some news for you: Apolonia called. She and Jude are getting married next week.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “I guess I should say mazel tov[1] to them.”

“Is that all you gonna say?”

“What do you want from me, Tosha?” I said.

“This gonna sound awkward, but I’m gonna say it anyway,” she said. “Marry me Emeka.”

“Tosha, could we…?”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snapped. “If you really love me like you said, I shouldn’t be the one proposing to you. I want your answer now.”

“Tosha sweetheart…”

“I’m not having that from you anymore,” she said. “If you can’t give me the ring this week, then you are dead to me.”

She hung up.

I dialed her number six times but she refused to pick up the phone. Convinced that she’s done with me for the day, I left the phone booth in a sad and confused mood.

When I walked into the lobby of the Empire Hotel in Baltimore Street, Stephen told me Medgar was in his bedroom.

“You just missed a guy who came here earlier asking for you,” Stephen went on. “I told him to check back later because you will be back tonight.”

“Do you know who he is?” I asked.

Stephen shook his head.

“He didn’t say why he was looking for me?” I said, pausing as I was about to cross the lobby for the stairs.

“No, he didn’t,” Stephen said. “He looked like a tough guy. Just in case he shows up again, do you want to see him?”

“I can’t see him tonight,” I replied. “Tell him to come back tomorrow morning. I can, however, speak to him on the phone if it is something urgent. I’m just not in the mood to see anyone tonight.”

“No problem,” Stephen said.

I went upstairs, along the passage to Medgar’s room. He was sitting in an armchair, with his feet in a basin of, what I believe, warm water. By his side, on a table, stood a 3-quart gallon of cranberry juice,  two glasses, one of them half full, and a bottled water. He smiled at me as I stood in the doorway, gaping at him.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” I asked, coming in and shutting the door behind me.

“What does it look like I’m doing, you punk?” he said, laughing. “I’m resting my damn legs. I have been tramping my feet into all the neighborhoods in this area looking for some clue for  this Ms. LaToya case. You would be amazed at the number of motels and nightclubs in this area. They’re spread out all over West Baltimore and I’ve called on almost all of them.”

“Did you find him?”

Medgar laughed bitterly.

“Nope,” he said. “It was a total waste of my precious time. I wore my damned feet out for nothing.”

I lit a cigarette and poured myself a glass of cranberry juice.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss a hotel?” I asked.

“I’m so sure I can bet on it,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I got Stephen to make out a list; and he swears the list is complete. The guy didn’t stay at any hotel or motel  in West Baltimore. This is now a confirmed fact. I am convinced that he either lives in an apartment or a house or else he came in from Roland Park or some place, but he didn’t stay at a hotel or a motel.”

“Well,” I said. “The cops are looking for him now.”

I went on to tell Medgar of my visit to Baltimore City police office in West Baltimore. I broke the news as gently as possible that Devon has been murdered.

“Now you can see what I mean, right?” Medgar said, starting to dry his feet. “Three people have been knocked off already. This LaToya’s case is a dangerous one, and we’ll get knocked off too if we keep sticking our noses into this case. What do you say? I think we should …”

“Relax,” I said. “The Baltimore City police are taking care of it now. But, I gotta tell you: I’m really disappointed you didn’t find that guy in the blue jeans jacket. I would have liked to have talked to him before Captain Donald got on to him.”

“What can I say? The guy just didn’t stay in any of the hotels or motels in this part of the city,” Medgar said. “Let’s let the cops do their job. I’m sure they can hunt him down.”

“You asked Stephen if he stayed here, of course?” I asked casually.

Medgar started as if someone had touched him with a red-hot knife. His face looked confused as he stared at me, his eyes bulging.

“Why should he stay here?” he asked.

“Why shouldn’t he? Did you ask Stephen?”

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed. “I forgot to do that. I feel so dumb! If he did stay here…Oh my God! To think I have been tramping the streets of West Baltimore all day, wearing myself to a shadow and it never crossed my mind to ask Stephen.”

I picked up the telephone.

“This is Emeka,” I said when Stephen answered. “Do you remember if a guy stayed here around August of last year who wore a unique type of blue jeans jacket?”

He laughed.

“Common, Mr. Emeka,” he said. “A lot of men with blue jeans jacket comes here.”

“I know. But this one is over six foot, lean, with an eyebrow moustache. And his blue jeans jacket is a unique one – it sparkles. You can’t miss it.”

“You know what?” he said. “A guy with that description was indeed here in August. I remember him well. What’s up?”

“I’ll be right down,” I said. “I want to talk to you about him.”

I hung up and looked accusingly at Medgar.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Medgar,” I said. “The guy did stay here! You really need to wake up.”

“How was I supposed to know,” he demanded hoarsely.  “I can’t believed I’ve been tramping my feet into all the sidewalk in West Baltimore for nothing!

I left him and ran down the stairs.

“I’m glad you remembered this guy, Mr. Stephen,” I said, coming to rest at the reception desk. “Please tell me all you know about him.”

Stephen opened the register.

“The good news is that the record we have about him is intact,” he said. “Eddie Peterson – that’s his name – booked in on August 9. Here’s the entry. He came from Alexandra, Virginia. What’s the sudden interest on this guy?”

“He arrived the same day as Ms. LaToya did?”

“Yes,” he said. “Ms. LaToya booked in at noon. Eddie booked in at six in the evening.”

“Did he own a grey-colored BMW convertible?”

“Yes, he did. He parked it at a garage around the corner from here.”

“Would they have his car’s license number?”

“They might – it’s very possible they might.”

“When did Mr. Eddie leave?”

“He checked out the morning of the 17^th.”

“And that’s the day Ms. LaToya disappeared.” I said. “I may be wrong, but I am convinced Mr. Eddie has something to do with her disappearance. Did you ever see Mr. Eddie and LaToya together?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Mr. Eddie went out early and Ms. LaToya  didn’t leave her room until late.”

“Where was his room? Was it near Ms. LaToya’s room?”

“Yes,” Stephen replied after consulting the register. “Their rooms were opposite on the second floor.”

“Do you think they could have got together without you knowing about it?”

“That could be possible,” he said. “We don’t have full time floor employees. And, after 8 o’clock, none of the employees goes upstairs.”

“Did Mr. Eddie say why he had come to West Baltimore?”

“No, he did not,” he replied. “He didn’t say anything about his business or why he came to West Baltimore.”

“Did he have a lot of stuff?”

“If he did, they all entered into the one black suitcase he had with him,” he said.

“Did he had visitors, mails or phone calls?”

“I’m very sure he didn’t,” he replied.

“Is anybody at the garage now?”

“Omar will be there,” he said. “We don’t shut down until 1 o’clock.”

“I will have a word with Omar.”

But Omar, the garage attendant didn’t remember the license number of the BMW convertible. He remembered the car and he remembered Mr. Eddie.

“Mr. Eddie had plenty of dough,” he told me, “and he was always in a spending mood. I still remembered his daily car routine when he was here: he habitually took the car out every morning around ten and brought it back by midnight. He wanted his car cleaned every day, and he was pretty touchy  about how it looked. Sorry for disappointing you, but I just can’t remember the license number. We are talking about something that occurred fourteen months ago here. I get a lot of cars through my hands so there’s no way I can remember their owners’ license numbers.”

I gave him a five-dollar note and went back to the hotel. I found Medgar lying on his bed with a worried look on his face.

“His name is Eddie Peterson and he came from Alexandra, Virginia.”

“I don’t give a fuck who he is,” Medgar groaned. “I still can’t understand why I did such a dumb thing. I should be ashamed of myself. To think I’ve been all over West Baltimore for nothing, when all the time I could have been resting in the bar.”

I laughed.

“Common, Medgar,” I said. “You’d better pull yourself together. Just forget that it happened, okay? The long walk you had has probably done you good. It’s time you had some exercise.”

“Whatever,” he said.
“It’s too late to tell Captain Donald tonight. I will see him tomorrow. Let me just…” I broke off as I saw Medgar’s eyes open very wide as he stared past me towards the door.

I looked over my soldier and I almost had a heart attack.

Standing in the doorway was a short, thickset black man with a long, dark scar on his left cheek. He had on a camouflage jacket and a dirty, grey papa’s cap pulled down over his right eye.  About a three-day growth of beard and a cold viciousness in his eyes made him look even more scary.

He held a Colt .38 Special revolver in his right hand, and it pointed at me.

 

 

NOTE

 [1]Mazel tov: A Jewish phrase meaning “congratulations.”

 

 

 

 

END OF EPISODE 8

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 9, which  will be published here next Sunday.

 

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