Badge of Evil by Bill Stanton

to take questions yet. He got up out of his chair and started pacing as he talked.
    â€œThis is where things really get fucked up. Church was into the whole secrecy thing. So even as tight as we were, there were still things he never told me. I don’t know for sure how he ended up in motherfuckin’ pieces spread out on the infield like human fertilizer, but I have a pretty good idea why. Big K’s partner was done; he wanted out. Maybe he was tired of dealing with it, maybe he was climbin’ the law enforcement ladder of success and he was worried about gettin’ busted. Fuck if I know. But once he made his decision, guess what? The motherfucker didn’t wanna worry about the shadows. He didn’t wanna look in the rearview mirror and see anything but a long stretch of empty road. Nothing to connect him to our highly profitable little enterprise. At first I wasn’t sure if it was Kevin or his partner who did Church. And for a while it didn’t really matter,” Supreme said, picking up his iced tea glass and taking a drink.
    â€œKevin came to me shortly after Church was eighty-sixed and said it was just us now. Me and him. His partner was retired, and I guess you could say, so was mine.”
    â€œWhoa,” Lucy instinctively blurted, “weren’t you concerned at that point about Kevin’s partner? Why wouldn’t he kill you too?”
    Supreme allowed a half smile. “Patience, pretty girl, patience. I figured I was cool ’cause I had no idea who Kevin’s other half was. He dealt only with Church. And if they were gonna do me, they woulda done it. Why dick around and waste time putting a new deal together between Big K and me? So Kevin and me continued to conduct business more or less like we had before. And then after two years or so of our new arrangement, I started to move into the music business and out of the drug business. Less stress, know what I’m sayin’?”
    â€œSo why the worry now?” Lucy asked.
    â€œKevin called me a few weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from his ass in nearly two years. So I was surprised by the ‘Hey, brutha, how you be’ dial-up. The nigga says we need some face time, get together and talk about the old days, talk about business. Fuck, man, we ain’t got no business no more, that street shit’s behind me. In the rearview mirror. So I kinda played him, know what I’m sayin’? I said, ‘Yeah, we should do that. Lemme get back to you.’ Then the nigga turns up dead.”
    Supreme’s demeanor was different now. He was less playful, less engaged by his own storytelling. Lucy thought that even his facial muscles seemed drawn a little tighter. “Once I heard that, I knew somethin’ was goin’ down. I knew he called with some real shit; he wasn’t just trippin’. He didn’t give anything up on the phone, but I knew that the chickens had come home to roost. Suicide?” Supreme said with a rueful laugh. “Yeah, right. Not a fuckin’ chance.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure?” Lucy asked. “Family man, decorated cop, under investigation by Internal Affairs according to the papers. Maybe it just got to be too much. Maybe IAB was closing in and the pressure was too much. Maybe—”
    â€œMaybe he’s in heaven now with Jesus and all the angels. Look,” Supreme said, moving toward Lucy, “I’m not interested in fuckin’ fairy tales and make-believe. Kevin was too tough, too smart, and too vain to kill himself. This motherfucker was raising a family and rising through the ranks of the NYPD while at the same time playin’ a key role in runnin’ a multimillion-dollar drug business. You wanna talk about stress? Pressure? My money’s on his old partner. And guess what? I’m the last of the motherfuckin’ Mohicans, the last critical loose end. If he’s lookin’ to clean the slate, I’m next up