Sugar & Spice by Keith Lee Johnson Read Free Book Online

was talking about.
    â€œYou call it snitching, Agent McPherson. I, however, call it applying the law equally across the board. Especially when cops are involved. If we’re not careful, the FBI will be reduced to the same despicable status as the New York and Los Angeles police departments. Is that what you want? Do you want to be thought of as a bureau that the people can’t trust? That’s not why I became an FBI agent. If I have to fire a hundred agents to regain our collective fidelity, our collective bravery, and our collective integrity, that’s what I’m going to do. I need seasoned agents with enough intestinal fortitude to stay the course, to point out the bad agents so thatwe can preserve the dignity and the purity of the oath we took. And if you think that’s snitching, you don’t belong in the bureau.” Kortney looked at me, and continued. “If the wheat, which outnumber the tare, would stand and be counted, the tare wouldn’t chock out the wheat.”
    â€œFine, Kortney,” I said. “I’m all for cleaning up the bureau, but again, be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
    Kelly’s cell chimed a musical tune that sounded like “Rhapsody in Blue.” She flipped open the phone and answered the call. It was police headquarters, she told me. Apparently, Nelson Blake had turned himself in.

CHAPTER 21
    Detective Aaron McDonald was one of the toughest cops in the nation’s capital. At six four and two hundred-fifty pounds with coal black skin, even at forty-two, he looked as if he could play linebacker for the Washington Redskins. He was a twenty-year veteran who had put away more than his share of slime. He worked the hard-core D.C. ghettos and was a friend to the innocent people who lived there. McDonald had learned that Warden Perkins was involved with Nelson Blake from a street dealer named Bony Davis. That bit of information led McDonald to the prison where he persuaded a guard to tell all that he knew.
    McDonald was well into the interrogation of Nelson Blake by the time we got to headquarters. He had tangled with Blake numerous times on trafficking charges, but the district attorney’s office was unable to convict him. Blake was smart and had the right connections to stay one step ahead of the police.
    It always angered McDonald when intelligent black men decided to take the quick path to riches rather than use their intelligence to help turn the black community around. Men like Nelson Blake made his job more difficult because the children in D.C. ghettos tended to look up to the Nelson Blakes of the world and make the same choices. But this time, it would be different. This time they had a witness who had signed a confession and had named Nelson Blake as the prison’s supplier.
    We were standing behind the two-way mirror listening to the interview.Blake maintained a cool exterior as he listened to Detective McDonald, like he wasn’t the least bit worried. He was very dapper in his manner of dress, wearing a black silk collarless suit and black Armani shoes. He was almost arrogant, but not quite.
    â€œWhere were you last Saturday night?” Detective McDonald asked.
    Blake just stared at the detective. He seemed to be thinking, calculating.
    â€œLook, help yourself out. We know you were the one supplying the warden with drugs. What happened between you? Was he stealing from you? How was his wife involved?”
    Blake looked at the two-way mirror.
    â€œYou’re looking at a double murder; special circumstances. You and your crew raped and murdered the warden’s wife. The DA’s office’s hands are tied. You’re gonna fry for this, son. They’ll say your business with him had nothing to do with his wife. They’ll put her picture up so the jury can see what she looked like before you cut her up with that bullwhip. Then the DA will tell the jury about her being a Big Sister volunteer, and being