When It Comes to Murder, It's a Family Affair

"This is Tina Martin reporting live for channel 13 news.  I am at the scene of a homicide at Anville Textiles,” she said swinging her body to the right as her hand motioned up towards the company’s name on the front of the building.  As her body swung back toward the camera, she cupped the microphone with her free hand and continued, “Police report they’ve found the body of a black male, mid thirties, black hair, and brown eyes.  Identity currently unknown.”

My heart sank.

“The victim was shot in the head.  The body was found behind the premises just minutes ago.”

I gathered the story was still developing.

“Stay tuned for more developments later in the broadcast.”

I couldn’t breathe.  The description was vague enough that the body could have been that of Carl Hagerty.  I hoped not.  I stayed awake for a few more hours flipping between various major network channels, but I didn’t learn anything new nor was my curiosity quenched about the identity of the victim.

*

“Did you see the news last night?”  I asked Chuck with heartfelt urgency.

“You talking about the body found behind Anville Textiles?”

“Yes!”

“I have a call into Hagerty’s office.”

“You don’t think it could be Hagerty who was shot, do you?

It was the very next evening at dusk.  I had just driven in from work and had to park on the adjacent street.  When I exited the car, I looked over towards my building and spotted a male figure coming across the street.  I hurried back into the car and shut the door.  As he drew closer, I could see it was Mr. Smith carrying the black gym bag.  He started his SUV and drove off.  And just as he did I started my car and drove off after him.  I stayed a safe distance behind him, letting only a couple of cars separate us.  And, because his SUV was taller than any of our cars were, I was able to keep him visible.

We had just crossed over the Alexandria line when one of the cars ahead of me turned off.  My heart began to race.  I didn’t want to end up directly behind Mr. Smith.  If I had ended up directly behind Mr. Smith, he might have spotted me in his rear view mirror.  So I slowed my pace a little to allow another car to get in front of me.  No sooner than I allowed it than it happened.  A car quickly took up the place of the one that had turned off.  My heartbeat stabilized.  Then I started thinking how familiar this route was just before I realized this was the same neighborhood Eddie and I drove through when the police were detaining two guys.  I remembered seeing Santé walking away from the scene, although she was some distance away by the time I actually spotted her.  So then I concluded that if Mr. Smith’s destination was in this vicinity, Santé’s reasons for being in this neighborhood before were more than likely connected to him.  Besides, Eddie said he’d picked Santé up close to this area just several days ago.  That more than clenched the theory for me.

“I hate that she’s still tangled up with this creep,” I said, having more sympathy for Santé now knowing that she had drive and ambition.

Suddenly, Mr. Smith pulled up to the curb.  But there were no other parking spaces within the three car lengths I followed.  I quickly decided to employ Eddie’s technique of doubling back around the block.  If I could get there in time, maybe I could see where he was headed.  Thankfully, I did not have to do that.  Someone was pulling out a half a block up.

I pulled into the parking space and pushed my seat back so I could turn my body back towards Mr. Smith.  I saw him walking up the sidewalk towards me, but he soon turned off into the housing complex.

I wondered whether I should I follow him.  Following him was one thing but going into an area that I was unfamiliar with was another.  I wasn’t dressed for the part.  Nor did I know my way around the complex.  What if I got lost?  And worse, what if Mr. Smith spot