by David Putnam
He hesitated, thinking over his options. Then he sighed. His shoulders relaxed. He shuffle-stepped over, put the Tech-9 under his arm, and held it there, pinned. He pulled up a chain that hung from his waist, chose a key, and unlocked the gate.
I burst out of the confines and slapped his gun to the ground. I grabbed him and shoved him up against the bars.
I didn’t have to tell Ollie; she waddled over to the entryway to the next room, reached around the corner, and hit the solenoid release on the inside wall. The front door popped open. Three cops, members of my team, flooded in, guns at the ready. They moved right past me and disappeared into the next room. They all started yelling. “Sheriff’s Department. Get down. Get down.”
Tark turned his head back to Ollie. “You’re dead, bitch. You’re dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I SHOVED TARK’S face into the bars, a little too hard.
Ollie came over. “Shut yore fat ass. They made me do it. And I’ll tell Mo Mo the same thing, right to his face. He’ll understand.”
Only in her world. No way could Mo Mo let her get away with being a rat, no matter how much he liked her.
She reached up and again shoved his head into the bars. His face thumped harder this time. Tark brought his free hand up and covered his face. “Hey, hey. Damn, girl.”
I liked Ollie.
Blue stuck his head around the corner. “Bruno, bring his skinny ass in here.”
I held him in a wristlock, bent over and picked up his gun, and escorted the both of them into the other room.
The doorway opened to a den on the right and a kitchen to the left, the counters invisible with clutter: discarded take-out Chinese cartons, Old English Eight Hundred 40-ounce bottles, and a tall stack of empty Arm & Hammer baking soda boxes used in converting the cocaine hydrochloride to base, or rock, cocaine.
On the floor, stacked in the corner, I recognized grease-laden pizza cartons from Central Ave Pizza, the same place Dad sometimes used when I stayed over. On the stove, two deep-dish Pyrex cake pans held a couple of pounds of rock coke in the final process of drying before being cut into retail sizes, two-five and five-oh rocks. Two pounds of rock cocaine, a helluva bust for a major’s crew, let alone a brand-new street team. Captain Stubbs couldn’t say boo about this takedown. We’d stepped out on the edge, risked it all, and now reaped the benefit. What an exhilarating feeling.
To the right, a short room addition kicked out one wall and opened the house a little. Two more street thugs lay facedown on the carpeted floor, handcuffed in front of a seventy-inch television screen, the real expensive state-of-the-art kind with the rear projection. The team interrupted a movie still playing, Mississippi Burning.
Thibodeaux took Tark, cuffed him, and laid him down next to the others.
Just as the doorbell rang.
“Bruno,” Blue said. “Get out there and sell them some rock.”
“What? Are you kiddin’ me?”
“Word gets out this place is closed to business, no way will Mo Mo make an appearance. Get your ass out there. Chelsea, cut a piece of rock off that cookie and give it to him. Bruno, when the hand-to-hand goes down, pull your gun on him and we’ll come out and take him down.”
“Cookie?” Chelsea said.
“In the cake pan on the stove.”
The doorbell rang again.
Thibodeaux didn’t wait for her to move. He looked put out. He hurried into the kitchen area, reached into his boot, took out his switchblade, flicked it open, and carved off a chunk. He pared it down into smaller multiple chunks. He came over and held them out to me. I looked at Chelsea. She shrugged.
“What the hell.” I took them.
Blue moved over and stood in the middle of the thugs on the floor. “Any one of you turds yells or so much as farts and I’m gonna kick your teeth in. You boys understand?”
None of them said a thing.
“Get out there,” Blue said.
I’d never sold rock before. Didn’t have the first inkling in how to do it. Why would I? It went against everything I believed in.
What would Dad think?
I went into the living room just as someone behind me buzzed the outside door open. In came two street urchins in ratty clothes. I’d seen their kind before, arrested similar dopers of their ilk. They probably spent the entire previous day doing small-time rip-offs, or collecting bottles and aluminum cans, or pulling out copper from derelict buildings, all to get enough cash to come and cop some rock. Both males stood in the cage, their faces and hands dirty. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in several days. They didn’t care at all about food; they only cared about chasing the glass pipe.
“Whattaya need?” I asked, the rocks in my fist starting to sweat.
“I want a two-five. Gimme a two-five.” He twitched and wiggled, sketching to the tenth power.
The other guy, not nearly as wired, eyed me suspiciously. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Tark?”
“He took the day off. You want some of this or not?” I opened my hand and showed them the goodies. Their eyes went round as they both lost all thought of anything else. Lust and greed overpowered paranoia. Thibodeaux, in his rush, had cut the rocks too large.
“I don’t see any two-fives there,” the twitchy one said.
The other one elbowed his partner. “Shut up.” He stuck his grubby hand through the bars with a handful of crumpled bills, twenty-five hard-earned dollars. “Gimme that one right there.”
I gave him the rock he wanted and took his money. The second one took longer to choose. He finally made his choice. I gave him the rock and took his money. I drew my gun and threw down on them. They backed up to the other wall, their hands up.
The more coherent one said, “Hey, hey, man. What’s goin’ on? Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”
Blue hurried into the room with the key.
They saw his green sheriff’s raid jacket. “Ah, man, Five-O. It’s Five-O.”
Blue unlocked the gate, took the rocks from them, and ushered them into the room with the others, their hands still in the air.
I let out a sigh of relief and followed.
Blue patted them down for weapons and set them on the floor without handcuffs.
“Dirt,” Blue said, “take the van back to where we all parked. Take Chelsea with you to bring back Bruno’s truck. You take the Nova and run the money to HQ and get a count, get that money secured. Bruno and I will hold down the fort here.”
The doorbell rang.
Blue said, “The both of you wait until Bruno hooks this next one up and then you haul ass. You understand?”
Thibodeaux said, “You got it, boss.”
Chelsea nodded and looked as confused with this whole business as I did.
I stepped into the living room as the door buzzed open. In stepped a beautiful black girl I instantly recognized. Her name was Chocolate, a street hooker I’d arrested a few times in the past. She looked up, saw me, and tried to bolt back out the door.
Too late; it had latched shut.
She turned back around and smiled. “You slingin’ rock now, Deputy Johnson?”
“Sorry, Chocolate. I guess it’s not your day. Blue?”
Blue came out with the key, unlocked the gate, and took Chocolate by the arm as Chelsea and Thibodeaux went by and into the cage. Blue closed the gate and escorted Chocolate to the kitchen entry, where he buzzed Chelsea and Thibodeaux out. Blue patted Chocolate down for weapons, even her breasts and crotch, none too lightly, and set her on the floor. I didn’t like him for touching Chocolate, not in that way.
She’d worked for me in the past, fed me a couple of crooks wanted for violent offenses that really made me look good with the station. We got along well, but I wouldn’t let on about it, not in front of the other thugs and sketchers. Not in front of Blue.
I caught her eye and barely shook my head. She gave a little nod and half-smile.
Blue caught the exchange and said to her, “You sit quiet and don
’t give us any problem. We don’t have anything on you, and when we’re done here, you can leave.”
One of the rank-smelling sketchers said, “What about us?”
“You’re a dumbass. You bought dope from a cop. You’re going to the can for possession.”
“Ah, man, dat ain’t right. He’s supposed to tell us he’s a cop. Ain’t he? Ain’t he supposed to tell us he’s a cop, ’fore he sells us the rock? Dat was straight up, what’s you call it? Entrapment. I know it was.”
Blue ignored him.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang again. I went out front and Blue buzzed the outside door. In came Chelsea. “I parked your truck down the street. I hope it’s still there when we get done.”
We stood close on opposite sides of the bars looking at each other. She whispered, “Thanks for the cartridge. Your timing was perfect.”
“No problem,” I whispered back.
“We’re a good team,” she said.
I reached in and gave her shoulder a squeeze. This time she didn’t flinch. Her eyes never left mine.
Blue came from the kitchen and let her out of the cage with the key. “You two should get a room.”
I spun on him. “It’s not like that, and fair warning, Blue, I won’t put up with that kind of talk. I’ll take all the other shit you feed me, but not that. You understand?”
“Fair enough, big man. I know how to color inside the lines.” He winked and turned serious. “If Mo Mo doesn’t get here soon, we’re gonna have a full house.”
Chelsea tried to further change the mood. “I gotta tell ya, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. But I’m not sure about this other part. Is it legal to sell dope you just seized and then arrest someone else for the same dope? How are we going to use the same evidence for two separate cases in court?”
Blue smiled and shrugged. “How should I know? That’s what the attorneys get the big bucks for.”
We all chuckled and headed back into the kitchen.
And didn’t make it there before the doorbell rang.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
IN THE NEXT forty-five minutes, the floor in the den off the kitchen filled with every variety of cocaine user, from the street urchins to hookers to college students, and even one guy in a suit on his way back to work from lunch. We kept all the property and the cocaine they purchased from me separate, in clear plastic bags and brown paper lunch sacks. With each new addition to the horde, the noise level rose a little more. If they wanted to rebel, they could easily overpower us.
Blue selected a movie and shoved it into the VCR hooked up to the huge television. The audience cheered and clapped when the lead-in for the movie came on, Scarface, with Al Pacino. Blue reached into the sack containing Tark’s property that came off his person, and pulled out a handful of cash. “Here”—he shoved it toward Chelsea—“run out and get cheeseburgers and chocolate malts for everyone.”
She looked stunned.
I reached to take the money from him. “I’ll go.”
“No, we need you here to sell the dope.”
I pointed to Ollie. “She could sell the rock a lot easier than I can.”
“Think about what you’re sayin’,” Blue said. “She’s a criminal. How’s she going to testify in court with any credibility? And what will that do to her case?”
I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. “We’re cops sellin’ dope to crooks and then arresting them. Don’t you see a problem with that? Let Ollie go after we’re done with this. She only carried the money. We only caught her with the money and she did help us get in here.”
“We’ll see how things go.”
Chelsea said, “No problem, I’ll go. Just tell me where the closest burger place is.”
Ollie, who had been eavesdropping, struggled to her feet and came over. “I’ll go wit her. There’s a good place over on Compton right off ‘n Willowbrook. Got some great chicken wings.”
Blue said, “Can you handle Ollie?”
“Of course.”
“Go on, take her and hurry back, but only cheeseburgers and chocolate malts. We don’t need a riot over the food. Bring extra because the body count’s still rising.”
In another forty-five minutes the number of suspects doubled, and they now sat shoulder to shoulder, ass cheek to ass cheek, eating cheeseburgers and drinking chocolate malts, cheering for the bad guys on the big screen. One of the less-than-mentally gifted street urchins kept standing up and mimicking a line from the end of the movie that had yet to play: “Say hello to my little friend.” The crowd yelled and cussed him, pulled him back down and pelted him with French fries.
Blue looked at Chelsea. “That’s why I said only cheeseburgers.”
Finally, the doorbell stopped ringing. Fifteen minutes after that, the phone on the wall rang. Blue picked it up and stepped around the corner into the living room, where I stood ready to meet the customers, who, without good cause, had petered out. I put my head up to Blue’s to listen.
Blue said, “Yeah?”
“Well, hellooo, Mister Poooleeseman. What are you doing in my crib?”
Word on the street had gotten back to Mo Mo. Of course, it would. Just a matter of time really, and ours had run out.
Blue didn’t even try to bullshit his way out of it. “Hey, Mo Mo, we’re here throwing a little party in your honor and you’re late.”
“Nice try, Mr. Pooleese. Who is this? Is this my good friend, the guy who’s been all over my ass trying to catch me dirty? My sworn enemy, Deputy Black ’n Blue?”
“We’re here waiting to cut the cake,” Blue said. “But I guess you’re going to be rude about it and not show up to your own party.”
“I have to say no to that, but if you don’t mind, I’ll have my people call your people to set up a meet for some other time. Thank you, Officer. Please clean up and lock the door after you’re done.” He clicked off.
Blue threw the phone against the wall and kicked three holes in the plasterboard before his rage subsided. He stood there breathing hard, his eyes fierce as he pondered his next move. He’d given it a helluva shot and lost.
And Mo Mo had just rubbed his face in it.
That was the first I’d heard of his nickname, Black ’n Blue.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. In the short time of the caper on Peach, I’d come to respect and admire him. At least a little, anyway. As stupid as that sounded under the circumstances.
“Hey,” I said, “at least we wounded him. We took a couple of pounds of rock off the street and that cost him. We also took down some of his main people. We definitely put a dent in his operation.”
“I don’t want to just dent his operation, I want to blow it up.”
He picked up the phone and handed it to me. “Call dispatch, have them assign at least three patrol units to shuttle all of these mutants here back to the station. You and Chelsea are gonna have to help the jailer booking these fools. I’ll stand by here with Dirt until they’re all gone then meet you back at the station. Leave Tark and Ollie till last. I want to interview them back in the trailer.”
I did as he asked and made the call.
Each Lynwood Station cop car took five crooks, and if you jammed them in and shoved hard on the door to get it latched, sometimes six. We loaded the cars twice before we reached the halfway point.
Blue didn’t help with the mundane job of handling the crooks. He retrieved a sledgehammer from the trunk of the maroon Chevy undercover car, the sledge used to knock down doors on search warrants, and he went to work dismantling the inside birdcage. He took his shirt off, really put his back into it, and got out a lot of frustration. He violated policy taking down the cage, damaging personal property, but I agreed with him going outside the rules on this one. I never wanted to make entry on another cage.
In between shuttling the crooks out to the patrol cars, I caught Chelsea twice staring at Blue swinging the sledge as his muscles bulged and his brown skin glistened.
Bl
ue paused. The clanging stopped but still rang in our ears. He turned to me, breathing hard and sweating. “Okay, you two head back to the station and help get started with the booking and fingerprints so the captain doesn’t blow a blood vessel. We’ll finish up here.”
I nodded. He picked up his sledge and went back at the wrought-iron cage with renewed vigor and rage.
Blue didn’t have to tell us not to say anything to the captain about Blue being out in the field against direct orders.
I escorted Chocolate out of the den, through the mangled and semi-dismantled cage and into the front yard. “You owe me for this one,” I said.
She smiled. “I don’t think so, Deputy Johnson. I didn’t do anything wrong this time. But I’ll be happy to give you a free one, anytime.” She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before I could stop her.
“That’s not what I meant.” I turned to Chelsea. “That’s not what I meant.”
Chelsea just smiled and shook her head.
I watched Chocolate walk down the street. She exuded a sexy eroticism that radiated like an aura and a tractor beam for all things male.
I got in my truck and started up. Chelsea said, “That was a kick in the ass, arresting that many dopers at one time, all for possession. You ever do anything like that before?”
“No, not even close. I know one thing for sure, though. If we keep hangin’ out with Blue, we’re going to be doing a lot more of that, rule book be damned.”
“Yeah, he’s really something, isn’t he? I’m going to like working here. I really am.”
I didn’t have any reason to, and it didn’t make sense, but I was a little jealous of Blue. An odd thought popped into my head that I needed to increase the number of sets in my daily regimen of pushups and sit-ups.
I nodded, put it in gear, and drove down Peach. We passed Chocolate, who waved.
“Hey.” Chelsea smiled big. “Why don’t we stop by your house to check and see if you left the stove on?”