Class A Felony

by Vickie West

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Vickie West demonstrates her range as an artist with two tales of murder.

In the first murderous saga, from a distance, you would think that Nyala Holloway was living the good life. She had three wonderful children and was living in a Cape Cod-inspired, five-bedroom Manhattan Beach home that was perched on a high vantage point with a city and mountain view. And after all these years, Nyala was married to the man of her dreams. To her, it couldn’t get any better than that.

And then the phone rang, and in seconds, all that shattered into a million pieces, and that good life would be gone. Now she is accused of murdering her husband, Robert Holloway, and it is up to her best friends, attorney Camari Pierce and private investigator Mac Bradley, to prove she didn’t do it and keep her from going to jail for a crime she didn’t commit.

In the second saga, after being informed that their younger sister, Nikki, had been brutally murdered by a drug dealer, Angela and Jalisa Moody are recruited and trained as assassins. Once they have completed their training, Angela and Jalisa go to Los Angeles with a mission to kill a specific list of dealers, all while evading the LAPD.

Release date: October 27, 2026

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

From a distance, you would think that Nyala Holloway was living the good life. She had three wonderful children, and she lived in a Cape Cod-inspired five-bedroom, four-bath Manhattan Beach home that was perched on a high vantage point with a city and mountain view. And Nyala enjoyed that house with its wood-beamed ceilings and a brick fireplace, where she loved to sit, even when it wasn’t cold. And after all these years, Nyala was married to the man of her dreams. To her, it couldn’t get any better than that.

And then one day, the phone rang, and in seconds, all that shattered into a million pieces, and that good life would be gone.

“Hello.”

“Is this Nyala Holloway?”

“Yes, this is she speaking.”

“You don’t know me, but my name is Cara Berger, and I’m the woman your husband is really in love with.”

“Excuse me? What the fuck did you say to me?”

“You heard me. I’m the woman your husband is really in love with.”

“You have a lot of nerve calling me and saying some shit like that.”

“That’s right, I got a lot of nerve, but what I’m saying to you is real shit. You couldn’t possibly love Robert the way I do. You need to sign the divorce papers and get outta my way.”

“What divorce papers?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t,” Nyala said and ended the call.

Her hands shook as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Robert!” she shouted and left her bedroom.

“Robert!” she shouted as she stomped through the house.

“Robert!” She shouted until she found him in the foyer, getting ready to leave the house. He was going to meet Cara at her place.

“What’s all the yelling about?”

She slapped him in the face. “It’s about some woman named Cara Berger.”

Hearing Cara’s name coming out of Nyala’s mouth couldn’t be good, but it wasn’t totally unexpected. Cara had been threatening to call Nyala and tell her about the affair. He had thought that the good fucking he put on her was enough to shut it down, but it wasn’t, even though Cara promised that she wouldn’t call Nyala. But he knew from experience that a woman would say anything when she is getting fucked and fucked well.

“What did she say to you?”

“That she was the woman my husband is really in love with, and I couldn’t possibly love you the way she does. Then she told me that I need to sign the divorce papers and get outta her way.” When Robert smiled, Nyala slapped him again. “This shit ain’t funny.”

“I know that it isn’t.”

“Is it true?”

Robert didn’t answer; he paused and looked at Nyala. Even though he wanted to smile, he didn’t want to smile and get slapped again. The truth was that he wasn’t in love with Cara. She was just some good, young pussy that he’d been lying to for over a year and a half. There were no divorce papers to sign, and when he said it, he had no intention of leaving Nyala for Cara. But Cara calling Nyala and saying that to her created an opportunity.

“You’re in love with this woman, and you’ve filed for divorce?”

The thrill had gone from his relationship with Nyala years ago, which is why, over the years, he’d had many affairs with numerous women. But just as quickly as he picked up with them, it wasn’t long before he lost interest in them and was ready to move on. To Robert, it was the thrill of the hunt. But when the hunt was over, and he secured the prize, it was time for the next one. Cara was young, fine, and could fuck like an animal, but this stunt meant that it was over between them. Besides, Robert had taken the time to cultivate a new relationship with a woman named Fiona Contee. He really liked her, and if he were going to leave Nyala for anybody, it would be Fiona or the two other women he was seeing. They were just something to do.

“Don’t just stand there, Robert. Say something.”

Since the opportunity presented itself, it was time to bring it home.

“It’s true,” he lied. “It’s all true, Nyala.”

“What?” Nyala questioned because she expected him to deny that her husband, the father of her children, was in love with another woman and had already filed for divorce. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I’m sorry, Nyala. But it’s the truth.”

As tears, once again, flowed from her eyes, Nyala asked, “You filed for divorce?”

Robert paused before lying to Nyala again and saying, “Yes.”

“Are you that unhappy?”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s just that at this point, I don’t feel I fit.”

“Really, Robert? What kind of bullshit is that?”

“Now you’re gonna discount my feelings?”

“Feelings? If you had any feelings at all, we wouldn’t be here doing this!” Nyala shouted.

“I’m sorry, Nyala, but it is how I feel.”

“I do everything you ask of me. I cook, I clean this house, I fuck you when you wanna get fucked, and this is what I get in return?”

“Yes, it is.” The way he said it was so cold and bitter that he grinned.

Nyala slapped him in the face and was about to slap him again, but Robert grabbed her hands and held them as she cried.

“Let me go, Robert!” she shouted, struggling to get free. When he released her, Nyala slapped him again. “You bastard. How can you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, Nyala,” was all he could say. All he had to do was get past this, and he’d be on the road to moving on. Nyala walked away from him. “Where are you going?”

“Do you even care? Go be with your whore and leave me alone.” She stopped. “Was that your plan anyway? To leave me alone? Go ahead, get outta here, damn you. You might be able to hurt me, but you will never break me,” she cried.

Nyala grabbed her car keys and purse and left the house. She got into her 5 Series BMW and sped out of the driveway. With tears rolling down her cheeks, Nyala drove around Los Angeles for hours, asking herself questions. Some of which she had answers to, and some just made her cry harder.

How could he do this to me?

How could I have not noticed?

What am I gonna do now?

What’s wrong with me?

What did I do to make him stop loving me?

If you could, would you take him back?

That one, she had an answer for.

“Hell no,” Nyala said aloud and kept driving and crying.

After several hours of that, Nyala had cried herself out, and she was running low on gas, so she returned home. When she pulled into the driveway, Nyala was surprised that Robert’s car was still there.

“Please don’t tell me that he had the audacity to get that bitch to come to our house to pick him up,” Nyala said to herself as she got out of the car and went into her home.

“Oh my God!” she shouted when she saw Robert’s body in the foyer where she’d left him … in a pool of his own blood. He’d been shot once in the head. As tears once again filled her eyes and her head spinning, Nyala took out her phone and dialed 911.

“911 operator. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“My husband’s been shot,” she cried.

“Officers are on their way. Can you tell if he’s still breathing?”

“I don’t think so. He was shot in the head and is lying in a pool of blood.”

Once the police arrived at the Manhattan Beach home, Nyala told the first responders what happened.

“We argued, and I left the house. When I returned, that is how I found him.”

When Detectives Harris and Carol arrived on the scene, they questioned Nyala, who told them the same thing she had told the first responders.

“We argued, and I left the house. When I came back, that’s how I found him.”

“What was the argument about, Mrs. Holloway?” Detective Carol asked.

“A woman named Cara Berger called me and said she was the woman my husband is really in love with.”

“That couldn’t have been easy to hear,” Carol said.

“No, it wasn’t easy to hear.”

“What else did she say?” Harris asked.

“She said that I couldn’t possibly love Robert the way she does,” Nyala said with attitude laced with anger. “And that I need to sign the divorce papers and get outta her way,” she said, as her tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“Take your time, Mrs. Holloway,” Carol said, speaking patiently. She patted her hand in an attempt to build some rapport that might be useful in the future. “What happened then?”

“I asked Robert if it was true.” Nyala started to cry. “Was he really involved with this woman, and did he really want a divorce? He admitted to everything,” she said and cried harder.

“What did you do then?” Carol handed her a tissue.

“Thank you,” she said, and Nyala wiped the tears from her eyes. “I slapped him, and then I left the house.”

“Where did you go, Mrs. Holloway?” Harris asked.

Carol’s first thought was that Nyala was guilty as sin, but the more she talked, the more her attitude began to soften. But not Harris. He clearly wasn’t as understanding as Carol seemed to be. He thought Nyala Holloway was as guilty as the day was long.

“I got in my car and drove around LA for hours, thinking about what just happened, what I would do when he actually did leave me. Then I came home and found him lying there.”

“What time did all this occur?” Carol asked.

“Sometime after six or eight o’clock. I’m not sure exactly. I just got in the car and drove.”

“While you were just out driving around the streets of our fine city, did you stop anywhere, Mrs. Holloway?” Harris asked with attitude.

Nyala picked up on it, and it gave her an attitude. “No, Detective, I did not stop anywhere.”

“No?”

“Did anyone see you while you were just driving around, Mrs. Holloway?” Harris asked, picking up on her attitude.

“Not to my knowledge, Detective Harris.”

“Do you have any idea who would do this to your husband?” Carol asked.

“I’m sorry, but no, I don’t.”

“Anybody having a problem with him that might have done something like this?”

“No, I’m sorry, Detective, but I don’t think so.”

“What did Mr. Holloway do for a living?” Harris asked.

“He’s vice president of research and development at Softila Vision AI. They develop cloud-based services.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Holloway,” Detective Carol said. “If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch.” Carol stood up. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and Detective Harris went back to the body. “This is a crime scene now, Mrs. Holloway. Is there someplace you can stay until the crime scene is released?”

“I have some friends I can call,” Nyala said.

“Good. If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch,” she said. She had been doing this cop thing long enough to have a sense for guilt or innocence, and Nyala Holloway wasn’t reading “killer.” “And once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

After the detectives walked away, Nyala called her children, who were away at boarding school. Something else that Robert wanted that she never agreed with, but she went along with for the sake of the marriage. She spoke with her 12-year-old son, Issac, and told him she would be coming to pick them up in the morning.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you in the morning.”

“What do you want me to tell Blaine and Kristina?”

“That I am coming to get y’all in the morning.”

“Have you ever met your daughter, Mommy? That might be enough for Kristina, but you know as well as I do that is not gonna be enough of an answer for Blaine.”

“I know, I know, but do the best you can to hold her off until I get there, and I promise to explain everything,” Nyala said, fighting back tears. As soon as she ended the call, the floodgates opened, and her tears flowed freely. Nyala did her best to contain them because she had another call to make.

“Hello,” Camari Pierce said when she answered.

“Robert is dead,” Nyala cried.

“Wait, what?”

“Robert is dead,” Nyala cried harder and louder.

“Where are you?” Camari said and began getting ready to leave.

“I’m at home.”

“I’m on my way.” Camari ended the call.

“What’s wrong?” her husband, Kaden, asked.

“That was Nyala. She said that Robert was dead.”

“What? How?”

“I didn’t ask her any questions; I just said that I was on my way.”

“Go. We’ll talk when you get back,” Kaden said as Camari called Makayla “Mac” Bradley. The three had been friends since their freshman year at UCLA.

“Hey, woman, what’s up?”

“I just talked to Nyala, and she said that Robert was dead.”

Camari grabbed her car keys and headed for the door.

“And before you ask, I don’t know how he died. I just told her that I was on my way.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Mac said, and once she had her keys, she left her house and headed for Nyala’s home.

The police were getting ready to wrap up the scene when Detective Kurtis Bradley arrived. He was Mac’s estranged husband. After speaking with the other detectives on the scene, Kurtis went to find Nyala. He found her sitting out on her deck by the pool; it was her favorite spot in the house.

She bounced up and rushed into his arms. “I am so sorry, Nyala. What happened?” he asked, but since he had talked to his fellow detectives, Kurtis already knew what had happened, or at least he knew the story Nyala had told the police. Nyala told him what happened, and he asked her the same questions the other detectives had asked.

“You shouldn’t stay here alone tonight,” he said, knowing that it was a crime scene and she had to leave. But his words came from a place of compassion and concern. “Is there someplace I can take you?”

“Thanks,” she said and wiped her eyes. “That’s all right, Kurtis. I spoke with Camari a little while ago, and she said she was on her way to pick me up. I assume that she called Mac, so I guess she’s on her way too.”

“Then it’s time for me to leave.” Kurtis hugged Nyala. “I am so sorry for your loss. Robert was a good man, a good friend,” he said, even though he didn’t know him all that well. It was just the thing to say.

“He didn’t deserve this.”

“Thank you, Kurtis. Now get out of here before, God forbid, you have to see your wife.”

Mac was the first to arrive at the house. She got there in time to see Kurtis leaving and driving away. She shook her head and got out of the car. As she walked to the house, Camari arrived and got out of her vehicle.

“Wasn’t that Kurtis I just saw?”

“It was,” Mac said.

“Did you two talk?”

“No. He was driving away when I got here,” Mac explained, and she went into the house with Camari.

Detective Carol was the first one to see Mac when she entered the house. Carol had seen Camari around the courthouse, but she didn’t know that she and Mac were friends.

“What’s up, Mac? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Nyala Holloway is one of my best friends. You know where she is?”

“Last time I saw her, she was out on the deck talking to your husband.”

“He just left,” Mac said as she and Camari went out on the deck.

When they got there, Nyala bounced up and rushed into Mac’s arms. Camari patted her back.

“What happened, Nyala?” Mac asked. Once Nyala told her story, they agreed that she didn’t need to be alone. “I’m going to get some things packed for you. You’re staying with me tonight,” Mac insisted.

Mac was up early and had made coffee by the time Nyala came out of Mac’s guest room, where she’d slept in the night before.

“Morning,” Nyala said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“I get it.”

“I mean, I’m sad that Robert is dead, but I’m still upset that he was cheating on me with another woman—”

“Better than a man,” Mac added.

“For real.” Nyala sat down at the corner of the kitchen. “And I’m mad that he was planning on divorcing me for this woman. More so that he had the balls to admit it.”

“That one threw me too,” Mac said. “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead—”

“Why not? I’ve been speaking ill of Robert to myself all night,” Nyala giggled. “It felt good to laugh, even if it was just for a second.”

“It will get easier, I promise, baby girl. We aren’t gonna let you go through this alone. We are going to be there, laughing and crying and eating food that I won’t be cooking,” Mac said. She admittedly couldn’t boil water.

“Don’t worry, Mac. Me and Camari will do the cooking. You can bring the drinks like you always do.”

“Thank you, and you two are such great cooks.”

“You are amazing, cleaning up the kitchen.”

“It’s why Kaden calls me ‘the dishwasher.’”

“Oh, hey, Camari. I didn’t know you were here,” Nyala said as Camari joined her at the kitchen counter. After she and Mac got Nyala settled, Camari didn’t feel like making the drive back to Long Beach, so she crashed on the couch. Mac poured each one a cup of coffee.

“Thank you. Let me share something with you, Mac.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed. “That couch is not for sleeping. My back is killing me.”

“Honestly, no couch is made for sleeping, but I hear what you’re saying. We were just talking about the fact that y’all know I don’t cook, so there’s nothing to eat here.”

“At least when Kurtis was here, there were, you know, breakfast stuff in the fridge. Now, no eggs, no bacon, no cheese,” Nyala said, standing in front of the empty refrigerator.

“Okay, Nyala. I get it,” Mac said to shut her down.

“That’s all right,” Nyala said. She took another sip and stood up. “I need to go pick up my kids anyway.”

Her son, Isaac, was 12,. . .