A Lover's Mask by Altonya Washington Page B

friend.
    Marc groaned and massaged his eyes. “I don’t think it can play out much longer and having him out there with you was my best idea.”
    â€œMaybe it’s time for you to let your brother go. Know what I mean?”
    Marc’s grin was humorless. “I know exactly what you mean and don’t think I haven’t thought of that very thing.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œAs my oldest friend, you know better than anyone why I can’t do that.”
    â€œDo you think Houston has the nerve to bring you down with him?” Cufi asked in an incredulous tone.
    â€œHell, I’ve helped him to elude the police going on three months! Among other things…”
    â€œAmong other things…” Cufi repeated the phrase as though he were contemplating.
    Marc’s brows drew close. “Care to share what you’re thinkin’ man?”
    â€œDo you think anyone would believe Houston if he decided to tell what he knows, my friend?”
    â€œMy family would, that’s for damn sure,” Marc acknowledged with a weary smile. “Hell, if I don’t have my own family on my side, how can I expect anyone else would stand there?”
    â€œIt may be possible if no one took Houston’s ravings as fact,” Cufi said after several moments of silence.
    â€œRavings?” Marc repeated.
    â€œMmm. Given the nature of his crime—a crime that has occurred more than once unbeknownst to the authorities at this time. Not to mention the man’s penchant for flying off the handle.”
    â€œHold it Cufi,” Marc urged, sitting straighter in his desk chair, “are you suggesting we try to prove he’s crazy?”
    â€œI think it’d be rather easy.”
    â€œHe’s my brother,” Marc noted, swallowing down unexpected emotion.
    Cufi’s chuckle harbored no humor. “Look at it from a humane perspective, friend. Houston was only wanted for questioning, but he ran. That in itself gives the hard impression of guilt. The physical evidence proves he was with Sera that night. She was a minor at the time. Clearly he’s going down, but with an insanity defense the time he serves may not be so hard.”
    â€œThat’s absurd!” Marc blurted, bursting into laughter as he did so. “Besides, pleading insanity is the one defense black folks don’t have a chance in hell of proving.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œFor one thing, we’re not white.”
    Cufi laughed. “A minor detail when all others are in place.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œExtreme wealth, power, notoriety. Your family can trace its roots back to the motherland and in America—to the Georgia plantation you worked as slaves. Besides,” Cufi added as though he were sharing a closely guarded secret, “you know the black community doesn’t call attention to mental deficiencies as quickly as other races—it’s something we do our best to ignore. All these things could play in your favor, my friend.”
    Marc was silent, contemplating Cufi’s points for a while. At last, he began to nod slowly. “So how exactly would we go about making this happen?”
    Â 
    â€œWhat’cha got?” County asked Spivey and Jenean as she reclined in her desk chair.
    â€œMy contact at the club is on his game,” Spivey commended, when Jenean waved for him to begin, “it turns out that the girls are working for a local travel agency.”
    Folding her arms across her scoop-necked mauve top, County fixed Jenean with a pointed look. “What’s so odd about that?”
    â€œAs hostesses.”
    â€œThat is odd,” Jenean noted.
    â€œIndeed,” County confirmed, one because these were former strippers. Though it wasn’t always the case, stripping and prostitution went hand in hand. Therefore, “hostess” was a job title with many connotations.
    â€œWhat would a travel agency need with