“Okay, take off all your clothes; hurry up.” She turned on the shower, making sure the water was on hot. It was the first time she had seen Bobby completely naked and she wasn’t mad at him about it. He had a well-built, athletic body and his oversized dick was the icing on the cake. “Get in the shower and wash up good as you can. I mean, underneath your fingernails, behind your ears, and even in between your toes. The whole nine; scrub.”
When Bobby stepped into the now steaming-hot shower, Rissa took everything except his shoes and put it into a trash bag. She then went into Wanda’s brother’s bedroom and rifled through his closet and grabbed whatever shirt and pants she thought would fit Bobby. She went back into the bathroom and set the jeans and T-shirt on the toilet top. “Okay, here’s something for you to put on real quick,” Rissa announced to Bobby, who was still in the shower.
Just then, she recalled she had blood on herself as well. Without hesitation she stripped her top and jeans off and got in the shower with Bobby. It was the first time Bobby had seen what was underneath Rissa’s hoodie and pants as well. He tried to control his manhood as best he could. There was an awkward silence between to two as they bathed. Neither knew how to act or what to say or do.
Rissa was wondering if the entire scenario was real or if she was still asleep. Did Bobby really kill Mackey and her aunt like he said? Bobby’s words repeatedly echoed in her mind. “I did it for you, Rissa.” If this wasn’t a dream, the young girl justified the unthinkable by telling herself the monsters who had pretended to love and care about her deserved to die, both of them. I hope they suffered and felt every cut, slash, and stab! Fuck them!
Then her mind went back to Bobby, who was standing directly in front of her naked and wet. Damn, I wanna fuck him. But do I give the nigga some pussy now or what? Rissa dropped the washrag and practically threw herself on Bobby, kissing him like she never did before. He returned the favor, gripping her well-shaped ass. “Okay, Bobby, I’m ready for you now.”
As he spun her around, bending her over and smiling, he slid his dick inside of her still tight cat. Bobby had already killed for her and hadn’t even gotten the pussy. Rissa could only imagine what he would be willing to do now.
When they finished banging for the first time, the two got dressed, Bobby in his borrowed clothes and Rissa in something she’d grabbed out of her garbage bag suitcase. After cleaning up the little blood that was still on the sofa, they stood back together seeing if it passed their eagle-eye inspection. “Okay now, Bobby. None of this ever happened except for that good dick you gave me in the shower. Do you understand?”
Bobby shook his head up and down in agreement with Rissa, wishing he could hit it once more.
CHAPTER FOUR
“So at approximately six forty-five this morning a call came in from a neighbor who said she believed someone had broken into the house next door to her because the bathroom window was wide open. She said she wasn’t a hundred percent sure but she thinks blood is on the window frame.” Homicide Detective Goodhouse gave his partner of eight years, Sims, the rundown of the initial 911 call. He had just arrived at the scene and needed to get caught up to speed.
“What do we got inside?” Sims motioned toward the house taped off in yellow.
“Two DOA victims. A man and a female. It’s very gruesome. Maybe a crime of passion. From first investigation, looks like the perp came in through the window,” Goodhouse speculated, showing Sims the point of entry. “Looks like the perp came in this way and left the same. Back and front doors are locked with deadbolts. They haven’t appeared to be tampered with at all. Now come on inside and take a look at this.” The detective, who’d been first on the scene, led as his longtime partner trailed.
“Holy shit,” Sims remarked as he pulled a handkerchief out of his sport coat’s inside pocket and covered his nose and mouth. There was an odor of death in the air mixed with the everyday filth of the hood dwelling. Other crime scene officers milled about. One was taking photos of Mackey and Rissa’s aunt while another was dusting for fingerprints.
Goodhouse leaned down to get a closer look at the stab wounds when he recognized Mackey. “Who the fuck did you two piss off to fuck y’all over like this?”
Sims asked Goodhouse if he knew the victims. He lied, saying no, but in fact he did know the male. Then he went and inspected the female’s body. He was in disbelief at how whoever had murdered her cut her throat down to the bone, almost severing her head. Goodhouse shook his head from side to side and rubbed his chin. This is really messed up. He started to ponder how he would break the news to his woman, and that all hell would pop off when she heard about Mackey.
A crime lab technician walked up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “We’re ready to wrap this up here. The meat wagon’s en route to pick them up and put ’em on ice. It looks to me like both vics sustained over a hundred stab wounds each. Maybe more, but there’s so much blood at this point we can’t really tell until the coroner cleans them up and performs an autopsy,” the man nonchalantly explained, having grown used to gory scenes such as this.
“Okay, great. Wrap it up,” Goodhouse agreed to the head crime scene technician. Being the thorough detective he was, he decided to backtrack over the crime scene once more, starting with the perp’s entry. As he carefully canvassed the patch of overgrown yard under the window, the detective noticed a piece of plastic in the scrubs of grass. When he picked it up he realized it was a photo ID. While he was examining it, his partner came from behind.
“What do you got? You find something?” Sims wondered, hoping he’d discovered a clue to help solve the double homicide case.
“No, it’s nothing. We all good here,” Goodhouse claimed, slipping the ID into his sport coat pocket.
“Well, I got a phone number from the neighbor for the next of kin for the dead woman, a La Rissa Ford. The neighbor said the girl babysat for her sometimes and she lives with the aunt.”
“Okay, Sims. I’ll do the honor notifying her of her aunt’s untimely demise while you get a line on the next of kin for the dead man,” the dirty homicide detective told his sidekick as if he were giving him the easier task of the two. Sims tore Rissa’s phone number out of his notepad and gave it to Goodhouse.
* * *
Later that day around five in the evening Rissa’s cell phone rang. She looked at the incoming call on her screen. It was a number that she didn’t know. Reluctantly, she answered it. “Hello.”
“Yes, good evening. Is this La Rissa Ford?”
“Yes, this is she; and who are you?” she casually replied.
“Yes, my name is Detective Rob Goodhouse. I’m with the Detroit Police Department. It’s very important I speak with you as soon as possible. Can you come down to DPD headquarters as soon as you can?” he spoke sternly, maintaining his tone.
Rissa’s heart hammered in her chest. She knew the call was coming sooner or later. She had to get herself together. This was it. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Detective whoever you said you was, but what do you need to talk to me about, sir? I’m confused. And as a matter of fact, who gave you my number? Is this a damn joke or some shit?”
“Look, Miss Ford. I can assure you this is no joke. And as far as what I need to speak to you about, I’d rather explain it to you in person. And if you don’t have transportation to get here I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up. How does that sound?”
“Well, I can get down there by myself. I don’t need no ride or nothing,” Rissa rudely exclaimed. “But, once again, what is this about? Tell me something.”
“Miss Ford, when you get here, just ask for Detective Goodhouse and someone will help you immediately,” the homicide cop explained, not revealing any details including the fact that he was a homicide detective.
Rissa gave in, telling him she would be there shortly and she hung up the phone before the man could say anything else. She was a little uneasy from the phone call she knew would come. She got herself together the
n called Bobby and told him what was up. She was going to have Wanda drive her downtown to see what the detective had to say. Without question, Bobby was shaken, but Rissa reassured him everything would be okay. He had her back and she was definitely going to have his. What happened to Mackey and her aunt had to happen. Rissa just hoped that Bobby had left no indication of who he was.
* * *
Wanda watched Rissa’s facial expression change from “Who is this calling me?” to “What do you need to talk to me for?” to “I don’t know what’s going on and I’ll tell you later,” after she talked to the detective and then Bobby. When she hung up the phone with Bobby, Wanda had a million and one questions for her best friend.
“Bitch, what the fuck is going on? What the hell the police want you to talk to you for? Ho, you got some warrants I don’t know about?”
“Girl, I don’t know what’s going on,” Rissa lied to Wanda, not knowing how she would deal with knowing Bobby butchered Mackey and her aunt. So of course she kept it from Wanda until she knew she could handle that type of information. Not everyone was built the same.
Wanda grabbed her car keys off the table and headed to the door. Rissa was on her heels. They jumped in Wanda’s late-model Sunbird and were on their way. Ten minutes later they were in downtown Detroit pulling up at police headquarters. Rissa went to the front desk and asked the officer in uniform for Detective Goodhouse while Wanda fell slightly behind.
The uniformed officer asked Rissa her full name and she gave it to him freely. “Okay, so you’re here to see Detective Goodhouse with homicide?”
Rissa and Wanda said, “Homicide?” out loud at the same time and looked at each other, wide-eyed. “Yeah, that’s what he told me his name was, but he didn’t say shit about no homicide. This dude got me all the way fucked up.”
Wanda eased next to Rissa and whispered, “Bitch, who you killed?” while the officer made a phone call.
Rissa sucked her teeth at her friend even playing like that in front of the damn police. “Umm, let me think. Nobody, bitch.”
Wanda laughed it off and gave her the side-eye as she walked to the chairs in the waiting area and sat down with her lips twisted up. She was still mean mugging Rissa as she stood at the officer’s desk. When the cop hung up the phone and then told Rissa to have a seat, she came and sat next to Wanda.
Wanda was still on Rissa’s head for information. “Okay, when they put you in that little-ass room don’t say shit! Don’t be like them dummies on The First 48 and get to telling on yourself and confessing to shit. If it were me I’ll make them do their job. I’m lawyering up soon as the first syllable of a question roll off his tongue. Yup, I’ma be like, ‘Lawyer! Don’t talk to me.’ Sure would.” Wanda rattled on talking and talking as if Rissa weren’t under enough stress.
Rissa snapped her head back, twisting her neck. “Shut the fuck up, chatty patty, with your irritating ass. I can’t even think straight with you all in my ear and shit. That’s why I wanted your nosey ass to stay in the damn car.”
Wanda was about to start up talking again when they both noticed a slim brown-skinned man with a tan sport coat, slacks, and tie approaching the officer sitting at the front desk. The cop behind the desk pointed in their direction. Then Detective Goodhouse walked briskly toward the now nervous pair. Before he got up to them he said with authority, “Yes, which one of you is La Rissa Ford?”
Rissa stood up and copped an attitude before he could say anything else. “Yeah, what’s this about? You didn’t say anything on the phone about no homicide.”
“Well, young lady, I feel when there is a death in the family, loved ones should be notified in person.”
Rissa already knew what time it was but she played her position, acting dumb. “Notify? Dead? What is you talking about, sir?” Rissa said, acting like she was in denial. “Who you talking about dead? I don’t get it.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you your aunt Sara Ford was murdered sometime this morning along with her live-in boyfriend,” Goodhouse said solemnly, having delivered this sort of news time and time again.
Rissa went in playing her part. She broke down crying, falling out on the floor. Wanda tried to pick her up and couldn’t, finally ending up on the floor with her friend. People in the lobby passing by them were staring and whispering. One lady with a little boy remarked that their behavior make no sense at all acting a fool in public, that they were them millennium kids they’d been talking about on the news, with no home training. As she shook her head and ushered her little boy away quickly, a female officer saw the commotion and came over to the scene to help Goodhouse get the situation under control.
After Rissa was consoled she was escorted to an interview room in the back of the building, where the tragic news should have been delivered from jump. She was then grilled, and asked a thousand questions about her whereabouts at the time of the murders. Rissa cooperated, freely answering each one with either “I don’t know,” or “Sorry, I can’t help you.” The interview lasted almost two grueling hours.
“Okay, so can I go now? I’ve told y’all everything I think y’all want to know. I’m tired, my head hurting, and I’m hungry. I know my rights. If I’m not under arrest for something, y’all can’t hold me,” Rissa spat at the two detectives with an attitude. “I watch Law & Order and seen every episode of The Wire.”
“Just give us a second; we’ll be right back.” Goodhouse and a rookie detective stepped out of the interview room, leaving Rissa to stew.
“This is some bullshit,” Rissa hissed, huffing and puffing with her arms folded across her chest.
The two detectives stood in a cubicle watching Rissa on a video monitor. “What do you think?” the rookie asked Goodhouse for his opinion.
“Naw, she didn’t do it. She doesn’t fit the bill. No way there’s’ blood on her hands. Cut her loose and let her know we’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
When the rookie walked away to go cut Rissa loose, the dirty cop took the ID out of his pocket and looked at it carefully. He didn’t tell him he had a good idea who had committed the murders. That information, along with who he knew would pay good money for having it, was his little secret. Goodhouse couldn’t care less about clearing the bodies off the books.
* * *
Wanda sped her struggle buggy as fast as it would go up the 94 expressway. Rissa sat in the passenger seat bitching and moaning about how the police had treated her like a suspect instead of just informing her of her aunt’s untimely departure from the living. Wanda couldn’t be in the interview room so she had been waiting patiently in the lobby for the whole two hours so she could be the first to get the tea before Rissa told anyone else. “Okay, now, what did they say, girl? Do they think you killed them or something? Did they do you like they do dudes on television and try beating the truth out that ass?” she teased, trying to break the tension up.
Rissa forced a smile, coming to the realization her aunt was truly gone. “Man, they did that good cop bad cop act. They just wasting they time knowing damn well I ain’t killed no two people. Police kept asking me the same fucking question over and over but in different ways trying to trip me up like I’m gonna change my story. They had me so mad I wanted to snatch out his hand the ink pen he was writing with and stab his ass in the neck. Real talk, doe, fuck my aunt and that scum bag nigga Mackey. They got just what God intended for them to have: a blade served cold.” Rissa smirked with her eyes narrowed and anger dripping from her lip. “I hope both their rotten, stankin’ souls go straight to hell with a pretty pink bow tied tight.”
A chill crept up Wanda’s back. She had never heard Rissa be so cold before in all the years they had been friends. “Bitch, you need a hug? That was your aunt, your family,” she reminded Rissa. Wanda eased her car off the freeway and came to a stop at the red light. When it turned green she made a quick left. “Damn, sis, what the hell went on over there to make you so cold, Rissa? You going in extra hard on they deceased asses, lik
e you don’t even care.”
Rissa fell silent for two blocks. When she finally spoke again, she had tears in her eyes, tears she never shed for her aunt let alone Mackey. “Okay, Wanda, I never got a chance to tell you why I really got the fuck away from that house. Mackey raped me more than once and my aunt chose to believe him over me. So that’s why I’m glad they’re both dead. Those tears weren’t real tears of pain or hurt back at the police station; they was tears of joy they was gone off this earth!” Rissa knew in that instant, riding with Wanda in the car, she would be forever changed mentally the way she viewed the world and the people in it.
“Oh, my God, Rissa, you could have told me. I can only imagine how you feel going through that type of bullshit. Girl, I’m here for you,” Wanda said sincerely. They got out of the car and gave one another a hug. Rissa had to call Bobby, so Wanda told her it was okay, and she went inside the house, giving her some much needed privacy.
Rissa pulled out her cell phone and went to the call log. Finding Bobby’s number she pressed down on his name. The phone rang twice before he picked up.
“What up, doe?” Bobby said, greeting Rissa.
“Hey, I just came from DPD headquarters talking to a homicide detective, Good something the fuck or other. I can’t remember the last name right. Anyway, he wanted to notify me of my aunt’s and that piece of shit’s deaths. The police brought your name up,” Rissa announced to his dismay.
“What? Why? What did he say? Is they looking for me or what?” Bobby was rattled as he sat on the front porch of his mama’s house, nervously smoking a blunt.
“Just keep calm, okay? I don’t think they know you did it or they would have gone hard on me; but, it wasn’t like that.” Rissa tried to convince Bobby he was good and in the clear.
“Rissa, I’m tripping over here. I’m paranoid thinking the SWAT team gonna hit the block at any minute on my damn head.” Bobby looked around and up and down the street, taking a strong pull on the weed, filling his lungs with high-grade THC. “I feel like everybody watching me and shit.”
Around the Way Girls 10 Page 15