Girls from da Hood 11

by Nikki Turner

  Realizing that time was of the essence, Lenore began to get up off of the money filled bed.

  “We have to get up,” she stated. “We still got something’s to take care of before our flight.”

  “I know,” said Denise now raising up from off the bed.

  “I’m going to jump in the shower right quick, get all the money together and put it back in the suitcase.”

  “A’ight, I’ll be in the shower as soon as I’m done.”

  “Okay,” Lenore smiled, walking to the shower.

  “How much is it anyway?” she stopped and asked.

  “A little under a hundred bands,” answered Denise.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all,” Lenore stated with a smile.

  Denise returned the smile. “All in a day’s work.”

  The two of them shared a laugh.

  “All right, handle your business ma. Oh! I almost forgot, make that call.”

  “I’m on it.” Denise wasted no time retrieving the burner phone she had on top of the nightstand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the fact that it was only a twenty minute drive from Jeff’s crib to Mike B’s, it was a long drive for him due to the slickness of the highway roads. Mike B’s truck had top of the line tires, but they were no match for Mother Nature. The closer he got to his town, the nastier Route 22 seemed. Because of the city’s negligence, ice blanketed the streets and piles of slush covered the side of the road. Along the way, Mike B by passed two accidents, thanking his lucky stars that he himself was able to merge on to the highway thus far, and at the same, time cursed the city for their laziness. As he continued to drive, a smile appeared on his face seeing the sign that read: ENTERING PLAINFIELD.

  He was glad to be reaching his destination shortly. As he was coming up on the exit he passed a state police car that sat on the right shoulder. Paying the car no mind, knowing that he was riding legit, Mike B put on his right turn signal, bearing off to the right. As he turned on to the exit, he noticed the blue flashing lights glaring in his rearview mirror, and wondered why on the world was he being pulled over.

  “Un—fuckin—believable,” he cursed to himself, convinced that the police officer who had just pulled him over was either racial profiling because he was young and black with a truck that cost more than the cop made in two years, or he was just being a dick on a cold, wintry day.

  Mike B pulled over alongside of the street and threw his truck in park as the police car pulled behind him. As the door of the police officer’s car opened, Mike B cautiously watched through his rearview mirror as the tall white officer, who could have easily played the stunt double for Officer Poncherelli in the hit 80’s TV show, CHIPS, stepped out the car. Mike B sat in the truck, impatiently waiting for the officer to approach. He was more than curious to find out the reason he had been pulled over, but the officer never approached his vehicle. Instead, he continued to stand behind his car door.

  Seeing this alarmed Mike B. In his day, he had been pulled over for many routine stops and had never had any cop display the type of behavior he saw the officer displaying at that time. There was nothing routine about what he was witnessing so he grew suspicious.

  “What the fuck?” Mike B said under his breath.

  Taking a closer look into his rearview mirror, he now saw two more police cars behind the original officer’s car that had pulled him over. He had been so focused on Poncherelli’s twin, that he hadn’t even noticed the additional cop cars, just as he didn’t notice Poncherelli’s twin with his weapon drawn, until the other two officers exited their vehicles with their weapons drawn also. Each man was pointing their gun in the direction of his truck.

  By now, Mike B was in a state of confusion. He knew that there had to be some type of mistake that he was caught up in, but whatever that mistake was, he’d find out at a later date. The odds were not in his favor right now. Three possibly happy-go-lucky white cops with guns and one black male without one was not a good look in Mike B’s eyes. He rationalized the predicament he was in. He had heard about many cases on the highway where dudes had been shot and sometimes killed for simple DWB; driving while black. There is no way I’m going to become a statistic today, he told himself.

  “I said turn off the vehicle and throw the keys out of your driver’s side window with your left hand. Now!” Poncherelli’s twin repeated.

  Mike B heard him the first time but had no intentions of complying with the orders. He knew that it was either now or never as he continued to study the three officers through all three of his mirrors now as they began to inch up slowly from both directions after Mike B refused Poncherelli’s command.

  Mike B put his hand on his stick shift, preparing to make his move. He eased his foot on the clutch of the Audi, while still carefully watching the three officers who hesitantly continued approaching the SUV. Once he had the clutch down, he was ready to make a run for it. When he was about to throw the Audi into first gear and accelerate on the gas pedal, the officer shouted.

  “Don’t even think about it!” he yelled, startling Mike B, causing him to release his foot from up off of the clutch.

  Mike B was just at the stage where he had worked his nerve to throw the Audi into first gear and accelerate on the gas pedal. The driver’s door of his SUV was yanked open by yet another officer, Mike B had no clue where he came from.

  “Now slowly keep your right hand on the steering wheel and turn your vehicle off with your left hand,” the new comer instructed.

  This time, Mike B complied. By now the other three officers had swarmed the SUV, one of them snatching open the passenger’s side door with his gun pointed at him.

  “Do you have any weapons in the vehicle, sir?” the pale-faced officer questioned.

  “No.”

  Judging by the look on the pale cop’s face and ice blue eyes, Mike B was positive that he was one of the trigger happy cowboys who would have gunned him down. Had it not been for the fourth officer, whom Mike B felt to be level headed, he believed his blood would’ve been spilled where he sat.

  “Ten forty-two, we have apprehended the suspect and are now taking him into custody,” radioed the fourth officer.

  Suspect? wondered Mike B. Suspect to what? he tried to ponder, as the officer on the passenger’s side began to read him his Miranda Rights. The fourth officer ordered him out of his Audi.

  “Hands on top of your head!” the officer ordered.

  Mike B complied. He began roughly patting him down. Ending his search for weapons, the fourth officer grabbed hold of Mike B’s hands.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he chimed, despite the fact that he was already forcefully putting them behind him for Mike B. In one swift motion, he slapped the cuffs on Mike B.

  “What I do?” Mike B exclaimed.

  He conjured up the most innocent face he could, but they weren’t buying it.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” the fourth officer offered.

  “It was my stop. You want me to take him in Miller?” Asked Poncherelli’s twin.

  “It don’t matter. I’ll take ’im. You’ll still get the credit for it, Steve,” replied the fourth officer who was referred to as Miller.

  “All right, I’ll see you back at the station.”

  During that time, Mike B said nothing. He was still trying to make sense of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t until he was in the back of the police car, that a slim possibility came to mind. He wondered if the officer named Miller would give him any answers, but knew the only way to answer that question was to ask, so he took a shot at it.

  “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat.

  “What is it?” Officer Miller continued to write on his clipboard, never looking up or turning around to look back.

  “Why was I pulled over and what am I being arrested for?” Mike B asked more direct questions.

  Miller wondered if he should answer. It seemed to him, that someone of his caliber should have some idea why he had been stopped and
arrested. Sooner or later, he would find out Officer Miller told himself.

  “You were pulled over because there is a state wide APB out for your arrest.”

  “What? For what?” asked Mike B before Officer Miller could finish, knowing that APB stood for an All Post Bulletin.

  “For murder,” answered Miller, leaving out the part that said proceed with caution, suspect may be armed and dangerous.

  “Murder?” Mike B tried to sound surprised. “That’s crazy!” he said, but deep in the back of his mind he had already drawn up that conclusion but wondered how.

  Miller studied his puzzled facial expression through his rearview mirror. For Officer Steve Miller, it was never anything personal, just a job, and his job was to uphold the law, to protect and serve. He was not a judge or a jury, so whether Mike B had been guilty or not was not his concern. Officer Miller’s only concern was to deliver the detainee to the Plainfield Police Department, and that’s what he intended to do, as he radioed in his destination to the dispatcher.

  “Ten forty-two, I’m in route.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You got everything?” Lenore directed her question to Denise as she zipped the duffle bag of money shut.

  “Yeah, I think so. Let me check to be on the safe side.” Denise began to backtrack her steps.

  “All right, I’ma be in the car, don’t take too long you know we got to make another stop and take care of that before we hit the airport,” reminded Lenore.

  “I know,” replied Denise somewhat sadly, at the thought of remembering what it was they actually had to take care of. She had wished that Lenore had forgotten, though it was apparent that she hadn’t and Denise knew that what she had agreed to, had to be done or else they would not be able to get away with their twisted scheme scot-free.

  Reading the change in Denise’s facial expression caused Lenore’s alarm to go off inside of her head. Without having to ask, she knew what the new look was for because it was that same look she had given when Lenore first mentioned the initial plans that needed to be carried out in order for it to be successfully executed. Lenore had to spend hours convincing Denise of the importance of that particular part of their plan. Now here it was, months of planning, and Denise’s old feelings about the situation decided to resurface. She couldn’t believe that out of all the times in the world, Denise waited until the end of their plan to get on some self-righteous shit. The last thing either one of them needed right now was for one of them to become weak. Lenore knew that she stood strong in her spot. She had continuously showed that the only things she cared for was Denise and the money. Now she needed to know if Denise felt the same way.

  “Why you lookin’ like that?” Lenore started out asking. “I know you not getting soft on me now?”

  Denise was caught by surprise by Lenore’s questions. She had tried her best to conceal her personal feelings about their final plans, but it was obvious that she hadn’t done a good job. Ever since Lenore had informed her of what she felt needed to be done, Denise played the plan over and over inside of her head in hopes of finding a flaw in it, but she never could. Still, she rather they quit while they were ahead and catch the flight to Florida where they intended to enjoy the rest of their lives together.

  “No it ain’t even like that, but—”

  “There is no but,” spit Lenore. “We’ve been plannin’ this shit for the past nine months and now we’re gonna see it all the way thru. You need to let me know how you carryin’ it now before we leave this spot so I’ll know how to carry it from here on out,” stated Lenore with conviction. “You’re either with me or you not!” she ended dryly.

  This was not what Denise wanted. Her intentions were not to get Lenore upset with her and have to second guess her loyalty. Although it was not direct, Denise caught the threat that Lenore made toward her, and understood. If the shoe were on the other foot and she stood in Lenore’s position, she too would have said the same because there was a lot at stake to be wanting to fold now when she had been in the game playing along all this time. The fact of the matter was that Denise loved Lenore and there was nothing that she wouldn’t do for her or with her. This was one of those times where she knew she had to step up to the plate and prove that.

  “You right, boo. My bad, I’m trippin’. You know I love you, and I’m wit’ you,” said Denise walking up on Lenore.

  “I know ma,” replied Lenore with a smile running her fingers through Denise’s honey blonde hair.

  The two of them shared a passionate kiss. “Come on, handle your business, we don’t have time for this,” said Lenore, breaking their tongue tie.

  “Okay,” Denise replied giving Lenore one last peck on the lips.

  “I’ll be in the car.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mike B sat in the interrogation room handcuffed to the chair. He was no stranger to the little Plainfield Police Station office they used to question arrestees. He knew that the particular room they had him in was for those who were being questioned or charged for shootings or murders. On numerous occasions when he was on his grind and had to do what it took to come up in the game, he had frequented this same room, more so when he and Jeff got down together, but only to spend no more than a few hours of being badgered by the local authorities before he was released and free to leave due to lack of proof to form a solid case against him. Now here it was once again, and he was faced with a situation he knew would result in the same outcome, or so he thought.

  He directed his attention to the entrance of the room as the door flung open. A grin formed across his face as the white, grey haired officer walked in. Just as he thought, they sent their number one top detective to interrogate him, or rather he volunteered for the job once he heard who they had in custody. Mike B was familiar with Detective Frank Wilson, head of the Plainfield’s Homicide Division, and the best in his field.

  Just as Mike B was familiar with Detective Wilson, Wilson was also equally familiar with him. The two of them had been playing cat and mouse for quite some time, since Detective Wilson was on the narcotics force and Mike B was a mere block hustler. The ending result always being Detective Wilson winding up an unsatisfied cat. Today, Detective Wilson was determined to catch a mouse. The two of them exchanged stares, having admiration for the other, each for their own reasons.

  “Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!” Detective Wilson started out with.

  Mike B was not only familiar with Wilson, he was also familiar with his tactics. Wilson always started his line of questing out with the irritating sounds of sucking his teeth for as long as Mike B could remember, since the first time nearly ten years ago. Mike B anticipated Detective Wilson’s next move as if they were playing a game of chess.

  “Money Mike B Carter,” said Wilson adding Mike B’s street name to his full name. “Today is not your lucky day,” he said as he always did when he began his interrogation.

  This time, his words were slightly different from the previous times he had opened up with in the past. Today he seemed more confident with his words, as if he was sure of what he had just said. Still, Mike B continued to sit there in silence. He anticipated Wilson’s next words, as he knew what was to follow.

  “Before I tell you what I got on you, is there anything you want to tell me that will help you in the long run, because right now it doesn’t look good for you, kiddo. I mean, it really doesn’t look good for you,” said Detective Wilson putting emphasis on the word really.

  Same ole Wilson, thought Mike B, but this was the first time he had ever heard him emphasize his ending words. Mike B smiled on the inside. He chalked Detective Wilson’s last commitment up as being a new scare tactic incorporated into his stale curriculum to add a little spice to it. Detective Wilson’s track record and his reputation of arrests and convictions on shootings and murders preceded him and spoke for itself, so Mike B was fully aware that he was no slouch. What worked on others could not budge him. Mike B felt that if Detective Wilson was going to come at him, he’d b
etter come correct or don’t come at all. The last thing he would do would be get all scared and nervous, causing him to tell on himself or another. Let Mike B tell it, he was as strong as they come. Pressure didn’t bust pipes when it came to him. He was a diamond.