HOLLOW HEAD HAVANNA

By Lance Burke

Homicide Detective LI Yang struggles with a cold case file that is causing him much mental anguish.Not only has his failure in closing the case bruised his almost perfect track record, and inflated ego but it has also begun to affect his work ethic, and personal life. Can the districts golden boy pull himself together in time.to save potential m

• Language: English
• Publisher: BEST BOROUGH PUBLICATIONS LLC
• Release date: Jun 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998015514

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

AUTUMN NOW SHOWED all the signs of making itself scarce. Soon she could no longer get away with plucking her sons toys from the front yard with just a sweater on. Nor could she jog down the driveway to fetch the morning paper with her hair still wet from the shower.

Winter was on its way! Around this time of year, dinner recipes, what color drapes would best complement her furniture, and when would be the perfect time to put the roses in her garden to bed, were her most conjured thoughts.

Times were good, at least the last few months had been. Sadly that hadn't always been the case. Her life was peppered with ill-faded memories of a time when the soft hands of luxury hadn't cupped both sides of her face. Memories that made her skin crawl. These sad recollections were of the caliber none of her new friends would ever be able to empathize with. Maybe that was why her past stayed right where it was. Buried! Tucked behind the humorous glint of her eyes! Hidden, beneath the mannequin variety of her smile! A secret, lowered down the deepest of wells known only as a woman's heart.

It was best to leave matters as they were, the contrary would complicate things. These were her exemplary years. Nothing, including a slip of her own tongue would ruin what little sanity she managed to cling to. She was content now, in charge of her joy, and her grief. How she wished the demons she fought remained dormant where they belonged, like she was ever so lucky.

HAVANNA, HAVANNA, THE bad word swearer! her youngest son teased.

BROCK- her voice was level but held the promise of unsettling quickly. -you are to call me mommy or mom, even mother will do. We've had this discussion before. like his father, Brock always tested her limits to see what he could get away with.

A wicker chair sat immediately to her left, the one item of décor that gave her living room all its character. It was a gift from Ted, her husband. She liked to think of it as her 'thinking post', where she came to mourn whenever that emotion began to get the best of her.

Havanna Calvin, age twenty nine, five foot, nine inches tall with cream colored skin and alluring facial features. A petite, but strong woman who frequented the gym four times a week.

You mind telling me what by chance you're thinking about. Brody, her oldest asked. He stood just out of her line of sight, his tiny hands stuffed into his pockets.

Havanna looked down at him and cringed. Why did he have to look so much like his father? How did his eyes hold her with the same intensity? Eight years after giving birth to Brody, his cleverness, and maturity still baffled her.

I was just wondering what to fix you guys for dinner. What will it be, Corn Dogs or Pizza?

Brody knew she was lying but said nothing. He just stood there holding her with those absolving eyes of his.

Havanna started to fidget with the curtains hanging in front of her. When was the last time I dusted these things?

The act did nothing to deter her son. Mother- his voice was warm. -what's bothering you? Is it dad?

I know- she began but the words got caught in her throat. -your father told you to be the man of the house while he's away, but- she lowered her head to hide the falling tear. -l want you to enjoy your childhood my son.

I'm not a child, I am a-

She cut him off. Of course you are dear, my big, strong boy. Now help your mother get dinner ready.

But mom-

NO BUTS-! she raised her voice. -THE HEAD OF THIS HOUSEHOLD IS ME AND ME ALONE! YOU WILL DO AS I SAY, NO EXCEPTIONS.

Can I speak mom?

Havanna took a deep, calming breath. I know how you feel Brody. Trust me, I know what it is you and Brock are going through. Give me some time. Get a few more birthdays under your belt. You and I will have this talk then.

Defiance twisted Brody's face, but under his mother's stern gaze he relented. Okay mom.

MRS. CALVIN- HER boss popped his head into her office. -grab the Johnson file and while you're at it, a Latte.

Johnson? Havanna recited. That name sounds familiar. she stood there trying to place where she last heard it, but gave up with a hunch of her shoulders making her way to the filing room.

Havanna's employer was one of Manhattan's best criminal defense attorneys. Henry Sweat, a name synonymous with victory was a short, Caucasian man standing at five foot, four inches. Black hair, stocky build and an IQ of 176! His brilliance in the courtroom was often overshadowed by the shady characters he represented.

Havanna hated working for the man, believed his intelligence did nothing to complement his personality. Her current status prevented her from telling him to take the job and use it as a makeshift enema. A well to do paralegal with years of experience to her credit, Havanna thought the only difference between herself and Sweat was the fact she never took the B.A.R exam. Who was she kidding? Sweat was a living legend in the courtroom. He controlled the jurors, D.A, even the judge with little effort at all. Havanna sat comfortably at the top of her field but she was no Henry Sweat. Honestly, it was the reason she was now on her way to fetch his morning cup of Joe and not the other way around. She could complain until she was red in the face, but the buck stopped there. Havanna hadn't bothered to take the B.A.R for reasons she hadn't quite come to terms with. Maybe it was fear of failure. Did her title of not quite a lawyer suit her just fine? Or maybe, when she met the love of her life, the man who gave her everything she wanted and more, all of her goals went out the window.

Ted! No matter what she was doing or where she was, her mind always drifted back to him, the man who brought her much joy, and subsequently, much pain.

Havanna shook the daydream from her vision just as the elevator doors opened. She moved into the lobby fighting for a spot in the crowd. Out of nowhere a large, black man bumped her hard enough to send her flailing sideways.

Havanna stumbled a few feet before regaining her balance. She fixed the huge man with an evil glare waiting for an apology that never came. Instead, the man who sustained the air of someone who took himself far too seriously, signaled to one of his men. The goon took hold of Havanna's arms from behind scaring her.

The large man came closer peering at Havanna. You know who I am?

She said nothing, just stared back with all the courage she could summon.

Why don't you watch where you're going lady, you wrinkled my shirt. he moved closer still. I want an apology!

The goon behind her squeezed her arms as incentive.

Ouch! Sorry! Havanna whined.

The man offered a vile smirk making for the elevator. Just as he boarded it he gave Havanna a mock salute with two fingers.

Asshole! she fumed before exiting the building.

Chapter 2

UPSTAIRS IN HIS office, Sweat spoke on the phone. He held up a single finger asking his client, a one Bryant 'Bogey' Johnson for a moment to finish up the call.

Bogey smiled to himself. It amused him how all lawyers thought the rest of the world operated on their watch. Especially the successful ones people paid small fortunes to so annoying legal beefs disappeared.

Although the two men knew each other for years, this was the first time Bogey insisted on coming to the office. Naturally curious, Sweat wanted to learn why one of his best clients decided to pay him such an urgent visit.

Mr. Johnson, sorry about that- the lawyer ended his call. -what can I do for you? Sweat sat with his hands folded in front of him, a legal notice rested on the desk under his fists. '#2 Dad' in bold letters marked the coffee mug to his right. A picture frame, a fountain pen topped with black feathers, and a phone were the only items on the cherry oak desk.

Bogey's eyes never left the lawyer's. I have a problem.

Problem? A small one, or an expensive one? Sweat's cheap shot at humor received no laughter to fuel it.

Not sure. That's what I'm here to find out. Bogey dryly stated.

Nothing about the man in front of him Sweat liked, but his voracity ran laps around the few other things that motivated him. Well I'm sure whatever it is- Sweat swallowed the large lump in his throat. -you and I can figure it out.

A guy I know just got himself arrested with two bricks of cocaine. This is someone who has been with me for a very long time. You can imagine my surprise when I heard about his recent change of heart concerning his lifestyle. So you tell me...is this a small problem, or one that will cost me a lot of money?

This someone have a name? Sweat asked.

Eric Holder. Street name Hellboy. Bogey replied.

Hellboy? Must be hot where he's from? Sweat's second joke fell flatter than the first.

Bogey gave the lawyer a look that made him tug at his necktie.

Does he have a criminal record? Sweat cleared his throat.

He did a stretch up north. Bogey revealed.

Well that settles it. Anything he has against you I can discredit for sure, anything else? the lawyer asked.

Other than the fact I could be on my way to prison, I can't think of anything. Bogey replied.

Sweat reached for the phone, dialed a number then yelled for his paralegal who still hadn't retrieved his client's file. Let me see what I can find out right now.

A moment later the call connected.

Henry Sweat here, got a minute? I need to know everything you got on an Eric holder. Drug possession...I'll hold. Sweat offered a nervous smile then called for his paralegal again, but got no reply.

Havanna Calvin barged into Sweat's office on cue like it belonged to her. She held in her hand the folder containing all the legal information ever recorded about the man seated across from her boss. To her dismay, the same man who bumped and intimidated her down in the lobby.

Havanna handed Sweat the file, rolled her eyes at the client, then made a hasty retreat.

"That is interesting- Sweat spoke on the phone. -just this afternoon? You're certain? No, I'm not questioning your skills, I'm just...you're absolutely correct, lunch tomorrow on me. Thanks again." Sweat hung up.

Who was that? Bogey wanted to know.

My ace in the hole! It appears your associate posted bond.

Bond? With that much work, and he on Parole? He talking to somebody.

It would seem so. I'll set up an appointment for us to go over everything he might have against you. Don't worry about it, I'll get started on his smear campaign this afternoon if it has to come to that.

How much will all this cost me? the client inquired.

My office will send you the bill, but I haven't done any work yet. I need you not to worry on this. I'm all over it.

I don't like the way this sounds Sweat.

I know. We'll be ready if something arises.

Bogey stood to his full six foot four inch height, took Sweat's offered hand for a firm shake then left the office without another word.

HAVANNA SAT AT her desk pretending to look over a law book, but her real interest was the large man about to exit her boss' office. She was afraid of him, but only because there was something vaguely familiar in the way he carried himself. To make matters most, she was asked to fetch his criminal file.

What was wrong with her? She worked in one of the busiest cities in the world, got knocked around and bumped into more times than she could count. What made this encounter any different from the rest? Her mind was set. She'd take a long look at the Johnson file when her boss left for the day. Learn all she could about the guy who vexed her so easily. Were her motives behind prying into Bogey's file villainous or more out of curiosity? A storm of sentiments began to stir, shifting the sway of Havanna's behavioral pattern. It was a motility she could not explain but felt materializing.

Fifteen minutes before Havanna's work day ended, she rose from her desk, purse and coat in hand. According to her it was time to leave. Whatever work Sweat had in mind for her could wait until the next day. She was going home to her boys, and her life in suburbia. The Mamaroneck N.Y., neighborhood she entrusted her family's safety to.

At the elevators Havanna turned back. Sweat hadn't left for the day, and the Johnson file was still on his desk. 'What about this man is so important to you?' she asked herself. Whatever it was, it forced her to sit put until she learned all she could about the man who ruined her day.

Chapter 3

ERIC 'HELLBOY' HOLDER walked briskly from his car to his apartment building. He kept his head on a swivel hoping to spot any likelihood of