“Wouldn’t know that off the top of the ‘ol gray matter. You got to speak to my boy, Jarrod. He’s into all the computer stuff, so he should have the records. Something I do know though.” He moved slowly toward the door, saying, “You got to show me something, before we can show you anything.” He looked back at them, winked, and smiled before he turned and opened the door, continuing, “But we won’t let a little bit of paperwork get in the way of good dealings.”
The officers trailed him down the long, wide hall that resonated with hammering. For Shiny B, the sawdust clouds creeping into the mutely-lit corridor was an eerie reminder of his afterlife prison. Why does he go back to Purgatory? What if he just ran away from his duties here and went anywhere in the world with Detective Shine’s honey and money? Shit, he could even use his real identity, Benjamin Shine. What could anyone do to a dead man?
Eli spoke loudly, “No, I won’t be a stick in the mud about a warrant, not when you boys saved my butt many occasion.” He held up his left hand, and they focused on his badly-swollen knuckles. “Rheumatism took out my trigger finger, and them thugs must’ve sensed it.”
They reached the threshold to the work room. Eli stopped and pointed to a buffed worker with a platinum crew-cut and camouflage pants. He had a muscle shirt on—the netting of tattoos on his arms could’ve easily been mistaken for sleeves.
“Lucky my son, Jarrod was here. He chased them skinheads off while I called 911. Police got here lickety-split, took down everything, and even helped this old man get home that night.”
Jarrod looked up, placed the hammer on the table, and left two other guys filing down a large piece of oak. Daniels and Shine gave each other a quick glance as he approached.
“What’s up, pop?” Jarrod listened as Eli explained what the police wanted and ordered him to retrieve the information. “Dad, they can’t just get that stuff. They have to have a warrant.”
“Son, do as I ask, please? It’s all right.” He then faced the officers. “He’ll take care of you. So, if you don’t mind, I have a store out front to run.”
Shine said, “Thanks very much, appreciate it,” and Daniels locked eyes with Jarrod.
“Follow me.” Jarrod brushed past quickly, bumping him aside. “I ain’t got all day.”
Daniels wasn’t sure if that was on purpose, but he certainly didn’t hear an apology afterward. Shine turned and glanced at him, then walked alongside him. “Did I miss something?”
“No, it was nothing.”
In the office, Jarrod accessed a terminal and made a query for all the purchases within the last two years for the model number. “For custom work, it takes longer. The order could be from a while ago. But, after that, delivery can be within a few weeks.”
The system returned thirty hits, with the Blue Ember Club’s order dated four months prior. Daniels and Shine leaned forward for a closer look at the screen.
“That’s it.” Shine straightened and asked, “How did Ms. Schnecke get hers so quickly?”
“A custom drawer doesn’t take as long as a whole piece.” Jarrod rose from his seat behind the computer and grinned. “Besides, she paid for the VIP treatment.”
“Thanks for your cooperation,” Shine said before he and Daniels headed out the office. AT the showroom, they let Eli know they got what they needed then left Kristoff & Son.
They arrived for lunch at a local diner and went over the game plan for the surveillance effort. That afternoon, homicide and the forensics team were going to sweep the parking lot, where Tynard Simmons claimed he found Karen Holt’s body.
Everyone agreed that with the recent rain, DNA was going to be hard to collect but not impossible. Police were already visiting relatives and friends of the deceased to get an identity to Holt’s elusive boyfriend and locate him.
Meanwhile, Daniels and Shine were to keep their eyes on the club’s activity that night, waiting for updates over the wire, or until they got a lead. By 2:00 pm, they’d finished eating and had planned to go home and rest up.
Shine had other ideas.
Chapter Four
It was 3:00 when the detective pulled up at 238 Merchant Drive in his old Chevy Impala and parked outside Cohen & Cohen Insurance Underwriters. He entered the slate lobby flooded with sunlight and headed toward the mahogany counter with silver lettering. He even chuckled a bit when the petite, caramel-skinned receptionist standing behind it gave him the stink-eye.
“Oh, here we go,” she complained.
“Look, Tara,” he said nearly apologetic, “I told you last time I was kidding.”
“You mean when you called me ‘baby’?” She twisted her lips and moaned with disbelief. “Well, Natasha’s in a meeting. I don’t know when she’s getting out.”
“Tell her I’m waiting.” He winked at her, then traipsed over to a glass wall, where he stared out at the gushing water fountain, flower beds, and patio.
He wondered what that day was like. What he and Natasha ate and drank, what they talked about, what he said that made her smile the way she did in the photo. He then wanted to know who took the picture framed on his desk in the first place.
Shine turned and stared at Tara, remembering previously she’d stated she hadn’t wanted to get caught up in their mess. She knew something, whatever Detective Shine had done to screw things up. Her head popped up from beneath the counter as if she heard his thoughts. She stood straight, her eyes meeting his, and squinted ominously.
He snickered as she rolled her eyes at him and went about her business. Yeah, he could fuck her if he wanted to. Maybe Shine already had, and that was the problem. Shiny B simply didn’t know.
“Hey,” he called out, “I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He walked over and continued, “What’s the deal with Natasha? Has she said anything to you?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “About what, Detective Shine?”
“You know…about us.”
“You and her? Pfft!” She twisted her lips for a moment. “I’ll tell you like I told her. I’m a good listener and an easy shoulder to cry on. But I keep my mouth shut.”
“All right, then, just listen. I want her back. I need to know what I can do to fix this.” For the first time, he saw Tara show him a bit of sympathy.
“Y’all were good together.”
“Well, you opened your mouth now, don’t stop there.”
“Damn it,” she said softly. “I’ll see what I can do. I ain’t promising anything.”
“All I ask. Thanks.”
The telephone on the counter rang a soothing melody like wooden chimes. Tara picked up the receiver and gazed into Shine’s eyes. “Right,” she said, “Okay, I’ll tell him. Bye.” She hung up and said, “Sorry, Natasha’s going to be another hour. She won’t have time to see you today.”
He blurted softly, “Fuck,” and walked off.
“Hey, Detective Shine.” When he faced her, she resumed, “I know they’re working on a big government contract, something to do with pharmaceuticals. It wasn’t you this time. You just got unlucky.”
He gave her a smile of gratitude and waved, then left the building. Outside he damned the whole situation on the way to the car. He snatched the door open, got inside, and slammed it shut. He glared at the navigation system and debated which destination to select. In his head, he heard Warner: ‘Rule number four, keep your mind on the task at hand.’
That settled it. If he wanted to get out of Purgatory, he needed to pass through as many colored doors as he could, if not all of them. He had to solve this case, and that meant he had to rest up for tonight. The mere thought of going back to that shithole of a motel made him nearly as sick as the medical files he read earlier on the X-ibit victims.
He pressed the icon for Home, started the engine, and drove to 54 Hillside Avenue. When he arrived, the musty air inside the Hillside Housing lobby was coated with the stench of rotting trash from outside. The area was dark, despite pillars of daylight squeezing through the barred windows. A single low-wa
tt scone shined from the wall. The dingy, Oriental carpet runner narrowed the space as it drew the eyes toward the receptionist/manager.
Shine went up to the booth, where the seasoned Korean woman sat and stared at her portable TV, the same as last time he stopped by. Today she wore beige slacks, a black shirt with pastel flowers, and tan moccasins. Her globe of salt-and-pepper curls had retained their shape after the curlers were removed. She had a fat blunt of a cigar between her lips, which he figured became a permanent feature of her face.
She reached above the television, took room key 171 from a hook on the wall, and gave it to him. “Rent due today,” she said flatly, keeping her eyes on the screen and returned to her seat.
He shook his head and walked away, saying, “Yeah, I’ll pay you later.”
A few hours before opening time at the club, Julio Mendez got a knock on the door at his apartment. He was seated at the kitchen table and lowered his fork in a bowl. He rose and tugged his sweat pants which had started to stick in the stifling heat. His long ponytail rode down the back of his stained T-shirt, as he picked up a pistol and cocked the hammer.
“Who is it?” he yelled with the gun aimed at the door as moved toward it.
“Yo, Pappi, it’s J. We got to talk.”
Julio sucked his teeth and unlatched the deadbolt, then turned two tumbler locks vertically. He opened the door to the width the safety chain would allow.
J’s eyes lowered on the piece. “Hey, Pappi, man put that away.”
Julio tucked it in his pants pocket, then removed the chain and let him in. J strolled over to a dingy, tan sofa with brown flowers. The cushion plunged when he sank into it and watched Julio come from the kitchen with a chair. He placed in front of J then sat and stared him down.
“Missy got another call last night and sent me to meet him,” J announced. “Word is, the Feds want their man back. Cops crawling all over her…” he held a disappointed expression. “Missy’s lost her shit, Pappi.”
“You’ve been going on about this for a while now.”
“See, I told you Demetri would take her down, if she didn’t give up territory. He already had manpower, resources…now, they got the chemist! What Missy got?”
“I known her a long time, essé.”
“I hear you, man.” J nodded. “Loyalty, that’s righteous, brother.”
“I don’t like biting the hand that feeds me.”
J rested his elbows on his knees and gazed into his eyes. “And I don’t spit on a fist full of cash.”
“If I do this,” Julio said cautiously, “I’m leaving when it’s over, moving back to Guatemala.”
J snickered, saying, “What you got going on out there?”
“Family land, been thinking about a coffee plantation. Hire some workers and retire easy.” A helpless feeling of uncertainty stirred in him and he shifted in his seat. “Never mind the coffee, essé, my point is you got to have a plan B. Demetri and his crew won’t just let you in like Missy did.”
J reclined and stretched his arms across the rear of the sofa. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You got a point though—I do have plans, an escape route all set up.” He flicked his hand at him. “So, you in or out?”
Chapter Five
The Blue Ember Club was a world different from earlier. Even though Detective Shine was recognizable to Missy, he blended in with the others. The azure lights emanated off his white, silk shirt. Warner’s amulet seemed to glow with the same blue hue.
Shine squeezed past gyrating bodies exploring one another in a ritual of dance. He pressed his finger against his ear, so he wouldn’t lose the Bluetooth radio in the grind. He was feeling it, thought—the ambiance, the fun, the need for a good time. Isn’t that all these people were looking for?
More of Shiny B started to make an appearance. He remembered the clubs he used to hang out at, pulling up to the valet in his purple IROC-Z. Shiny B always had a reservation in the Champagne Room and always a hottie on his junk. Damn, he loved that car!
At that moment he felt a hand rubbing his neck and he turned. A full-figured Black woman in a red dress massaged his bald head. She bumped her pelvis against him, and Shine moved his feet to the music. Hell, he wasn’t choosy and she was sort of cute, cute enough for a dance.
He’d spent a few minutes with her when this lanky, White guy got up behind her like a dog in heat. She was enjoying the sandwich, but Shiny B’s idea of a threesome didn’t include Poindexter. Shiny B sauntered backward and watched them sweat like pigs. Their chests heaved and he knew something wasn’t right. The man consistently slapped her ass. It seemed pretty hard, too, judging by the way her dress rippled, but she didn’t mind. She rotated, wrapped a leg around his hip, and rode as if she was in a rodeo.
That’s when he looked more closely at the others and the way they moved, animalistic, unrestrained. He swore he saw a few nosebleeds but couldn’t be sure with the colored spotlights.
It was then Detective Shine re-emerged with a gut feeling. He was in the right place for finding X-bit. If anything was going down it would tonight.
“See Biggie or Missy anywhere?” Daniels transmitted in his ear while keeping watch from the car.
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know.”
“Well, forensics found blood in the parking lot earlier. Homicide can’t search inside the club until the warrant comes in, so they’re dead in the water.”
“Then it’s all on us.” Shine stared at the large, illuminated moon above a crowd.
“Do your best, buddy,” Daniels replied, “Out.”
Shine moved toward the bar and sat on a stool. He rest his foot on the roll bar, and his knee bent. He ordered a Coke and waited, then a chocolate minx glided over to him. She was so petite she looked like a tall midget. Only her head and facial features made him realize she wasn’t a little person. She had long, straight black hair she probably paid a fortune for and hazel contact lenses. The black, tube dress painted her small frame. Her breasts spilled over the top like mounds of Jello, and spiked heels made her legs longer. She sported a medley of tattoos on her arms and around her ankles decorated with charms.
She leaned close and pressed her pubic area against his angled knee. “Did you get me something?”
“What are you having?”
“Whatever you’re offering.”
His eyebrows arched and he smirked as her body swayed against him. “I’m on duty,” he told her, “Cola’s all I got for tonight.”
“Ooh, a cop!” Her eyes went catty when she grinned. “I like those. They’re a challenge.”
She ran her palm over his chest and unfastened a few buttons, slipped her hand in and fingered his nipples hardening under her touch.
“You can have more than soda tonight, if you’re game.”
He noticed her tiny hand now on his inner thigh. This chick was dirty. Yeah, he knew it. But since Natasha wasn’t giving out, he was in the mood for something nasty. “So what’s your name, love?”
Shine picked up his soda, and she took it from him. “Wilma,” she answered then slid her tongue around the rim of the glass.
He threw his head back and laughed. “You mean like in The Flintstones?”
She shoved the glass in his hand and looked up into his eyes. “As in will ma pussy get eaten by you, or do I have to do it myself?”
There was static in Shine’s ear a split second before he heard Daniels squeal with delight, “What did she say?”
“Nothing,” he replied, “I’ll be fine. Out.”
He deactivated the earpiece and tucked it in his pants pocket. He watched Wilma turn and bend over. The bottom of her dress hiked, and he took a swig of cola. His eyes bulged at the sight of her head peeking between her legs. She pressed her nose against the black string slithering between her buttocks, and drink sprayed from his mouth. This bitch was more than limber. She was double-jointed, must be one of them freaks who can fold themselves into boxes, or something!
Luckily he spat toward the d
ance floor. A crowd of men gathered, hooting and hollering. Wilma clasped the rear of her thighs and flickered her tongue along her brown flesh.
Shine slammed the glass on the counter. “Oh, shit!” He fumbled with his wallet, pulled out a few bucks, and paid the bartender. He then latched onto Wilma’s arm and pulled her upright. “Time to go!”
They got to the restroom area, where a few people were waiting in the corridor. Some three feet away was a bouncer guarding the room that fronted as an employee lounge, probably with farmhands bagging X-ibit for distribution and counting Missy’s money right at that moment. Detective Shine had no proof, or prefix for barging in there and taking them down. He certainly couldn’t do anything without backup but get shot anyway, given the amount of heat he saw on the screen in Purgatory.
He looked away when he caught a glimpse of someone exiting the men’s room then turned to Wilma. “I got to get something.”
“I’ll powder my nose then.” She waltzed into the ladies’ room, her hips swiveling.
Shiny B hoped to God there was a condom vending machine. A sharp pain seared in his gut, and that’s when it dawned on him he did something wrong. He thought for a moment. Warner’s rule number two about not worshipping, or something like that. He was hurting too much to recall the exact words.
Shine doubled over and groaned. “Yeah, aight!”
The torturous ripping in his stomach subsided, and he straightened and eased inside the bathroom. A vending machine bolted to the wall caught his eye. After he purchased an extra-large Trojan, the door flew open and he tucked the prophylactic in his jacket pocket then went over to a urinal. He didn’t really have to go; he just wanted to know if Purgatory still graced him with a bigger dick. And it had! He glanced up.
Poindexter, the dude from earlier stood beside him. He was nearly salivating at Shine’s smooth, brown cock—couldn’t blame the guy for admiring it—but Shine also got the urgent feeling he’d better put himself away. Seriously, Poindexter was taking way too long to piss. He was standing there, stroking his dick.
Blue Door (The Colored Doors Series) Page 3