Bodega

  They both stood in silence looking around for a minute before Lucas spoke again. “It’s his exit strategy. This guy’s smart – five minutes to the I-10, six - maybe seven – to the 610. He could be anywhere by now.”

  Renner removed her sunglasses and rubbed her tired eyes. “I don’t know, this guy feels local.”

  They started to make their way back toward their car, when Renner stopped. “You know, something else is bugging me. Before we head back, I want to take a run past the primary scene again and check something out. It’s not far. You good?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Lucas replied, as he tossed her the keys.

  Ten minutes later, she pulled the unmarked Crown Victoria into a stop on La Salle Street outside the bodega where the shooting had occurred. Forensics had worked through the night and had begun packing away their equipment. She looked across to the main entrance that sat under second storey accommodation with several large sash windows facing the street.

  She turned to Lucas. “Remember we lost our shooter off CCTV for a second before he took Clayton’s vehicle.”

  Lucas looked back at her.

  “Well, what if he tossed the weapon? Remember, you’re the one who said he was careful. I bet he didn’t want to get picked up with it on him. Worth a shot, right?”

  Lucas shrugged his shoulders and both detectives got out and made their way across the street up to the entrance of the neighbouring building. Renner made her way down the narrow path to the side of the building and along a six-foot high timber fence. “Lucas, come here and give me a boost. I want to take a look.”

  Lucas bent over and cupped his hands, providing a foothold for Renner. With a quick motion, he lifted her up, so she could look onto a lower, shallow pitching, iron roof that ran down and terminated against a brickwork parapet. Renner worked herself into position, and took a foothold on a windowsill as she looked around for a minute.

  “Lucas, I think I see it.” She dropped down and moved along the wall to repeat the exercise with Lucas. Reaching behind a drainpipe, she picked the weapon up in two fingers.

  “Looks like an H&K. Definitely a nine. Got caught up in the gutter.” She carefully placed it back where she had found it.

  After a moment, she jumped down and dusted herself off, before stepping forward, and throwing up a hand for a high five. Her partner reciprocated.

  “It’s missing the magazine though. Let’s get the crime lab; this needs to be documented and bagged for evidence.”

  “Good job. I doubt there will be any prints, though,” Lucas said. “We can definitely run it past ballistics and see if we can match it to any previous shootings. We might catch a break.”

  ***

  Several days later, Renner received a preliminary report on the weapon. A partial print had been identified on a breached round that remained in the chamber. Crime scene technicians had subsequently run the partial through the Automated Fingerprint Identification System and struck it lucky after only a few hours.

  “It’s a match to a Ke-shaun Durant,” Renner noted, flipping through the report she had just picked up off the printer. She looked back at Lucas who had already brought Durant’s record up on his monitor. He scrolled down and took in the details.

  “No!”

  “What?” Renner replied.

  “Look at that,” Lucas said, as he rocked back in his chair.

  Renner moved round and leaned in over his shoulder. She immediately spun and walked away, placing her hands on her hips, shaking her head in frustration.

  “Sentenced to twenty for Possession with Intent to Distribute, Schedule I. He’s been at Angola for the past eighteen months,” Lucas said.

  “Fuck!”

  “It’s not him - it can’t be him.”

  “Well, he sure as hell knows something. His prints are on the murder weapon,” Renner replied. “Make the call. I’m heading up there now. I want to talk to him and find out what the hell’s going on.”

  “Renner.”

  “What?”

  “Says here, he ran with the 89’ers. You know as well as I do, he won’t talk. Besides, it’s at least a two-hour drive each way. The Major Narcotics Unit picked him up. Let me talk to the arresting detective and get some background on his case. Who knows, we might find some leverage.”

  Renner nodded as she paced the room. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll leave in an hour. We’ll be there by midday.”

  As Durant slunk into the max security visitor's room, Lucas looked up. Renner leafed through a report on her lap. Durant was dressed in the standard light blue inmate uniform with close-cropped hair. Tattoos covered both arms and wrapped up and around his neck. A guard stood close by

  “So Ke-shaun, I’m detective Lucas; this is my partner, Detective Renner.”

  “What’s the NOPD want with me?”

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “‘Bout what?”

  “About a double homicide that occurred at a bodega on La Salle Street.”

  “Double homicide? I don’t recollect no double homicide, and what – You think I popped someone from my cell? You know what I’m sayin'.” He held up his shackled hands. “I’ve been in here for the past year and a half. ‘Sides, why would I help out the police?”

  “Because your prints were found on the murder weapon.”

  “Ah, that’s bullshit, man. No way – no way, you feel me.”

  “It’s true, Ke-shaun.”

  Durant sat still for second, his eyes scanning back and forth from Renner to Lucas. “Fuck this shit. Guard!”

  “Whoa, hold up, Ke-shaun,” Lucas said. “Maybe we can help you, if you see a way to help us out?”

  “We know it wasn’t you, so settle down and take a seat,” Renner added. “We also know you know more than what you’re letting on.”

  “I don’t know shit about shit. He paused. What’s in it for me?”

  “Antonne.”

  Durant looked puzzled.

  “Your son,” Renner added. “You want to see him?”

  The bold move had taken Durant by surprise. “I don’t know. I find myself in a situation, you know what I’m saying, you feel me. I don’t trust no police.”

  “Haven’t seen your son, have you, Ke-shaun?”

  Durant looked down at the table and shook his head. “Think about him from time to time. Too much baby mama drama.”

  “He’s outside, right now, Ke-shaun,” Renner said, pushing Durant. “Comin’ up on his first birthday. Cute as a button, if you ask me.”

  “Here? you ain't playin' the fool?”

  “His mother’s here too. She agreed to let you see him, if you would help us out.”

  “I gotta say, Ke-shaun,” Lucas chimed in “she’s not too pleased you ended up in here.”

  “Do what you do, you hear me.”

  They negotiated for another fifteen minutes before Renner brought Antonne and his mother into the room. Lucas made several phone calls as Renner watched Durant with his son. When the time was up, a guard walked them both out.

  “Okay Ke-shaun, Time to pay the piper. Tell us what you know about this gun.” She placed an image of the weapon on the table.

  Durant, bit his lip as he raised his head.

  “Passed it.”

  “To who?”

  “Got fi-hundred dollars.”

  “In cash?” Lucas asked.

  “Well, I don’t take AMEX, detective,” Durant replied, then threw his head back in laughter.

  Renner smirked back across at Lucas.

  “Name, Ke-shaun!” Lucas demanded, unhappy at his last response.

  “I seen him round before too. He goes by No-no”

  “What? Come on, Ke-shaun, we had a deal.”

  “I swear it’s all I know. No-no. Look it up your po-lice computer.”

  Renner and Lucas looked across at each other.

  “Take it or leave it, I don’t care. I seen my boy, you feel me.”

  “Wait here,” Renner re
plied as she gestured Lucas to the corner of the room.

  “Call it in, see what comes up,” she whispered. “We got nothing to lose. Wasted trip otherwise.”

  Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “Fine.” He moved away and made the call. As Renner waited anxiously, she stared at Durant.

  Lucas turned. “No-no’s real name is Izaac Arceneaux.”

  “Izaac?” Renner said to herself. “Hey, what was the name of Shantay Watts’ ex-partner?”

  “Think they could be connected?”

  “I’m not sure but I’m sure as hell gonna find out,” Renner replied. “Come on, let’s go.”

  When they were back in the car, she flipped through her file until she found Shantay Watts’ number and made the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Shantay, this is detective Renner. We met a few nights back.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Your friend, she mentioned her brother Izaac. He used to date you. Can you tell me his surname?”

  “What’s Izaac got to do with this?”

  “Do you know the name?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s Arceneaux. It’s French, I think.”

  Renner sat back and closed her eyes. She then looked across at Lucas and nodded.

  “Get her to meet us,” he mouthed.

  “Shantay, we need you to come to the station and look over some pictures, Okay? Maybe look at a lineup?”

  “Of course, Detective. Am I in some sort of trouble?”

  “Absolutely not, we just need your help. We’ll send a unit to pick you up.”

  “Okay, I’ll get myself ready.”

  With that Renner terminated the call, arranged the pickup, and nestled herself into the passenger seat for the drive back to New Orleans.

  It was a big lead and break in the case. Now all they could do was wait.

  ***

  Renner focused intensely on the live CCTV footage of Izaak Arceneaux. He sat upright, handcuffed to a shackle bolt in the center of the plain, brown, steel-framed desk. It had been strategically positioned in one corner so the interviewing detectives could block access to the only door in the claustrophobic space.

  Earlier that morning, after obtaining the necessary paperwork, a citywide ‘Be On The Lookout’ search had been called to find him. He had subsequently been spotted near the Elmwood Shopping Center and armed officers from the Violent Offenders Warrant Squad had subsequently moved in and apprehended him.

  “He looks too calm. He’ll lawyer up the second you set foot in that room,” Lucas said, snapping her out of her trance.

  “I read him his Miranda and he waived,” she replied. “The guy’s a narcissist – he wants to play it out, see what we know. I’ll see if I can rattle him, maybe get a confession. Give me a few minutes then come in and show him the picture of Clayton.”

  Renner and Lucas continued to discuss their strategy, going over the details for the next minute, before Renner made her way into the room.

  “Afternoon, Izaac,” she said as she pushed the door closed and placed her notebook and two bottles of water on the desk. She pulled a chair across from the corner, spun it around and leaned forward, looking across at her suspect.

  “You know, I’m in a pretty good mood today, Izaak. You wanna know why?” Renner continued without waiting for an answer. “The Redsox beat the Orioles 1-0. Can you believe that? They’ve only won two games in the last eight and they take out the Orioles.”

  “Good for you,” Arceneaux replied, the entire time maintaining eye contact.

  Renner went on. “See this smile, Izaac? It’s gonna last for the rest of the day – who knows, it may even stretch all the way into tomorrow.”

  As Renner took a seat, their eyes locked for a few moments, before she spoke again. “Let me ask you something?”

  “Of course, Detective. But first, I would like to know why I’ve been sitting here for the past – now, I’m guessing … three hours – shackled here to this desk like some animal?”

  “Come on. We both know the answer to that one, Izaac,” Renner replied, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip of water.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong; I’ve broken no law,” he replied calmly. “I’m sure if you take the time to check, you’ll find I have no criminal record.”

  Renner nodded back. “We did check. You’re right, no record.” She stared back at Arceneaux.

  “And yet here I am.”

  “Here you are.”

  “Okay, detective, knock yourself out. What do you want to know?”

  “You follow baseball?”

  Arceneaux shook his head. “Baseball? You want to discuss baseball with me?”

  “The reason I ask is, my daddy, he made me watch baseball for years. Personally, I love basketball. It was pretty much all I did when I was young, aside from watch baseball. Thing is, when you watch something as much as I did, you can’t help but take it in. It’s like osmosis – you know what that means?”

  Arceneaux feigned a smile back. “Now you’re starting to disrespect me, Detective. Why? Because I’m black, you think I’m a dumb-ass nigger?”

  “They’re your words.”

  “My words?”

  Renner stared back.

  “God damn NOPD,” he muttered under his breath, as he broke the stare.

  She slowly removed her black-framed glasses, folded them, and placed them on the table. “On the contrary, Isaak, I think you’re a very smart man indeed. That’s what makes you so dangerous, and, to answer your question, that’s why you’re handcuffed to the desk.”

  Arceneaux adjusted his hands, stretching out his fingers as he took a deep breath. He looked up and adjusted his neck.

  Renner continued. “I watched it for years – years, Izaac. You understand? My father he was a Red Sox fan and, as a result, I became one. It just happened,” she snapped her fingers, “like that! So my question is Izaac. Who do you support? You know – who’s your team?”

  Arceneaux stared back. The room fell silent.

  “What the hell you want to know that for?”

  “Come on, Izaac, everyone has a team. Indulge me.”

  After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders.

  “Indians.”

  “Who?”

  “Cleveland Indians.”

  “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” She said, as she sat back in her chair. “Born there?”

  “Cleveland?”

  “Yeah, Cleveland.”

  “No, but my mamma was. She picked out teams for me and my brother, when we were younger.”

  Renner nodded.

  “Tried to get us interested in sports. Stay off the street and all.”

  As Renner went to speak, there was a knock, the door opened and Lucas entered the room.

  “Okay, Izaak. That’s enough about baseball for now. This is Detective Lucas. He’ll be joining us for the rest of the interview.”

  “Detective.”

  “So let’s take a step back, Izaac,” Lucas said, still standing as he weighed into the conversation. “You know this man?” He placed a picture of Rontel Clayton on the table and spun it around so Arceneaux could take a closer look. He leaned over and held it in place with his index finger.

  “Yeah, sure. That’s the guy who got shot uptown a few nights back. I saw it on WDSU. I remember, cause they reported it as cold, execution-style killin’. I figured it was one of the gangs; drug deal gone bad and all.”

  Renner looked across at Lucas. They had both expected the clearly rehearsed answer.

  Lucas exhaled as he took a seat. “Come on, that it, Izaac? That all you got?”

  Arceneaux took a moment before he responded. “Yes Sir, that’s right. I don’t get involved in that senseless shit.”

  “Okay. So, where were you Sunday night between ten and eleven p.m.?” Renner asked.

  “At home asleep.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Can anyone corroborate that?”
Lucas asked.

  Arceneaux shook his head.

  “So, Izaac, for the record and just so we’re clear. What you’re telling me, what you’re telling Detective Renner, is you were at home, and you have never met Rontel Clayton before. Is that correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How about Javiero Minaya?”

  “Who?”

  “The store clerk.” Renner removed a second image from her file and slid it across the table in front of Arceneaux. It showed Minaya’s dead body on the floor of the Bodega.

  Arceneaux shook his head.

  “Be truthful now, Izaac. You’re a smart man, you know there were CCTV cameras at the Bodega. Technology and all that shit, the image on the videotape was very clear. You get what I’m sayin’? Fact is, right now, you should be doing everything you can to help yourself. You understand how serious this is, right?” Lucas flicked a pen in his hand.

  “Fact is, Detective, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

  Renner finished some notes, before looking up.

  “Izaac, what do you do?”

  “Do?”

  “You know – your job. How do you earn a living?”

  “I drive for United.”

  Things started falling into place. He must have arrived at the Bodega in a cab. It wouldn’t have seemed out of place, even when the crime lab was on scene.

  “Just drive?”

  “Sorry, Detective?”

  “You own the permit or just drive?”

  “Just drive. Prior to that I worked construction.”

  “Before that?”

  “Afghanistan.”

  “You served?”

  “US Army. What’s that got to do with any of this here? Honestly, I’m getting tired of this. Am I under arrest?”

  “We’re working that out right now. For the record, you’re being cooperative.”

  Lucas rejoined the conversation.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened at the bodega.”

  “How would I know?”

  Renner upped the ante.

  “We know it was you, Izaac.”

  “You don’t know shit!”

  Renner looked across at Lucas, who nodded back.

  “Ok, I’ll tell you what we do know. We know that a six-foot two, black male entered that store and shot the clerk execution-style. Didn’t even blink – single shot to the back of the head.”

  “Truth is, most people freeze up when it comes down to pulling the trigger,” Lucas added.

  “Then, he takes out the second victim. This time he shoots multiple times.”