“Many may remember that, five years ago, Jefferson Myles, a well-known businessman in the city, was involved in a covert organization called Operation Stingray and convicted of embezzlement. Mr. Myles was recently released from prison. Operation Stingray-headed by then leader Robert Santiago, who is still at large-was an underground organization that purchased stolen weapons from Ft. Bragg Army Base and then sold them to a rebel group in Honduras.
“The police have made a positive ID of the license plate and have the name of the owner of the vehicle, which they will not release at this time. They do say, however, that Mr. Robert Santiago, who has eluded police dragnets for five years, may be linked. There is some speculation that the murder of former Lieutenant Hamilton Barnes, who was killed at Central Prison earlier this week and was also a member of Operation Stingray, may be the work of Robert Santiago. Mr. Barnes will be laid to rest tomorrow.
“We will continue to update you on this news story as information becomes available. I’m Denver Grey reporting to you live from Fayetteville. Back to you, Barbara.”
Silence gripped the room, save for the newscasters’ continuing coverage of other local news stories. Jefferson sat glued to the television, as if in a trance, without batting a lash. Margo heard the news as well and sat up in the bed, now fully alert. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched Jefferson’s shoulder.
“Did you hear what they said?” Margo asked.
“Didn’t miss a word. Santiago is written all over this atrocity. And you know what, Margo? I don’t feel any better with all those policemen sitting outside. He’d shoot all of them to get to me.”
“Why didn’t he try to take your life while you were in prison, as you believe he did with Hamilton?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. As I try and analyze this thing, I believe it all begins with his wanting to get even with Angelica.” Jefferson jumped from the bed.
“What is it, Jefferson?” Margo asked in alarm.
Jefferson continued to pace the floor with his thumb under his chin and his index finger across his nose. “That’s it!”
“That’s what?”
“Santiago wanted to control Angelica, to get her in his clutches. She owed him after she ran out on him to warn Hamilton and me that there was a hit out on us. I believe that Angelica wasn’t playing the game he wanted her to play, so he had Hamilton killed to put the fear of God in her, and after she ran out on him, he was out for blood.”
“But why you, Jefferson? You had nothing to do with Angelica.”
“Everything connected to Angelica and Operation Stingray is tainted. Santiago has declared war and is making every effort to see that we pay for the demise of that group, although only Hamilton, Angelica, and I did time for our part in Operation Stingray.”
“It always comes back to Angelica. When will men come to their senses about the likes of that woman?”
“Margo, Angelica was trying to start her life over. If you ask me, it was almost as if she was drawn to New York by Santiago. I know it sounds far-fetched, but I wouldn’t put it past that master manipulator to have pulled something off like that.”
“You’re sounding like those soap operas now-too good to be true. But, baby, I’m beginning to think like you. Humph. You may not be far from the truth, not far at all.”
51
Members of the Fayetteville precinct that Hamilton Barnes was affiliated with filed into the church to bid farewell. Their shields of authority hung over their left breasts on their dress blues, and they looked liked an elite brotherhood. Sergeant Carl Broadnax, who was now Lieutenant Broadnax, brought up the rear.
Fear gripped Angelica as she filed into the church, followed by Edward and a host of Hamilton’s relatives. She wore a charcoal-gray suit with black embroidery along the collar, pockets, and cuffs, charcoal-gray stilettos with a black suede heel, and a matching hat that looked as if it was sliding off the side of her head. Her eyes spotted Lieutenant Broadnax and Captain Petrowski, as they watched the crowd, scanning them for clues or some subtle message that would lead them to the killer or killers of the dearly departed. She almost stopped when she saw Margo sitting next to Jefferson, obviously surrounded by police officers. Angelica could have used one of Margo’s hugs today.
As Angelica approached the front of the church, she saw him for the first time-stretched out in his dress blues with his nameplate “Barnes” placed over his breast without the shield that was the policeman’s badge of honor. Some say he didn’t deserve to wear the policeman’s uniform, but Aunt Louise fought tooth and nail for her nephew to wear the uniform that had been a large portion of his life. In the end, even the police department gave up fighting the feisty, short woman who was going to have it her way or else.
In death, Hamilton still looked good. His hair seemed blacker than before but thinner, and he seemed very much at peace…at last.
From the tops of the few businesses that surrounded the church, sharpshooters were poised to respond to any strange activity they saw. Plainclothesmen with bulletproof vests were embedded among the mourners inside, equipped with firepower should they need it in the House of the Lord.
Various people came to the pulpit and expressed their condolences, but it was Lieutenant Carl Broadnax’s soliloquy that captured Angelica’s heart and caused her to temporarily forget the fear that had consumed her the past few days. Lieutenant Broadnax looked straight into the hearts of the people who were assembled and spoke about a man who loved the badge, the uniform, the honor among brethren, and the code that bound the men and women of the police force together. He said that Lieutenant Barnes loved life but loved protecting the city’s residents more, and he had a laugh that was contagious whenever he talked about having tucked away the city for the night after a day went by without incident.
“There were many times that we did not see eye to eye on cases we were working on,” Broadnax continued, “but I couldn’t help but love this man because, even with all of our differences, he gave me a chance to realize my dream to become a police officer, and we had the utmost respect for each other. It is with profound sadness I find myself here today. No matter what you thought or knew of Lieutenant Barnes, he had a heart-a giving heart, and… and I loved him.”
Tears welled up in Lieutenant Broadnax’s eyes, and he looked down upon his sleeping brother. He took his hand and saluted Hamilton. “My brother, farewell.”
It was too much for Angelica. A nurse rushed to her side as she broke down and wept openly. Edward rubbed her back to try and calm the pain she was feeling, but she continued to cry out loud. There was a moment of silence until the ushers were able to subdue Angelica, their fans moving in rapid succession. A soloist was next and sang “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” which caused Angelica to weep again. Aunt Lucille threw Angelica a look that said
Pallbearers were lined up like pins in a bowling alley. Tension flooded the church as plainclothes officers moved into position, pivoting left and right while scanning the mourners for any possible disruptions. Giving the minister the go-ahead, the funeral procession moved down the aisle as the mourners looked on.
Angelica acknowledged different ones with a nod of her head until her eyes latched onto Margo’s. Margo seemed to look straight through her soul. She saw Jefferson take Margo’s hand and thread his fingers through hers, at which Angelica dropped her head and moved on.
They laid Hamilton to rest in a goodbye fit for a king-maybe a king of a small nation or king of a city block, but nevertheless, it was beautiful in every way.
“Hamilton sure looked good,” Aunt Louise said as she took her seat in the limo.
“Looked like he was sleeping,” Aunt Dot added, putting her tissue in her tiny purse.
“It was a nice service. I’m glad that Angelica has stopped all that crying. It was getting on my nerves,” Aunt Louise said, crinkling her nose and glancing at Angelica from the corner of her eye.
