“Did you write this?” She held his letter up to the glass.
“Yeah,” Poo-Man replied. “I wrote it this morning.”
“Okay,” she said, picking up her ink pen. “What do you know about the double murder on Glenbrook, Regail?” She looked at him, waiting for his answer. His real name was Regail S. Fields. He was so busy staring at her big titties he stammered over his response.
“If I help you, can you help me?” he asked.
Detective Carter assumed his reason for the letter was due to him wanting something and that something was freedom. “It depends,” she replied, folding up his letter.
“On what?” he asked nervously.
“On what you have to tell me.” She began to twirl the pen.
“Well, I can tell you this, I ain’t kill dem’ two Arabs.”
The fact that he knew the two murdered men were Arabs caught her full attention. The local media had not released any details about the men. She stopped twirling the pen. “Do you know who did it?”
“I can give you a main suspect.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you be honest with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s start it out like this. I will ask you a few questions and then we can speak on this main suspect you wish to share with me.”
Poo-Man shrugged his shoulders. “That’s straight.” He was down with it because it gave him more time to gaze at her breast.
“Where were you on the night of the murders, January fifth?”
“I was chillin’ with my girl.”
“Her name, and where does she live?”
“Maria Martinez. She stays on Glenbrook near the back.”
Detective Carter snapped her head up which startled Poo-Man because he was again lusting over her titties. She stared at him as two and two made four. In front of her sat a young black male that fully fit the characteristics of the male that Wanda described to be Poo-Bear or Poo-Man. She then asked him what Maria’s address was. The second he finished, she casually removed her glasses laying her pen down. She leaned forward fully aware that her breast were the center of his attention.
He became uneasy.
“So which is it?” she asked almost at a whisper. “Can I call you Poo-Bear or Poo-Man? And after you confirm your alias, I would like to know your connection to the Arabs. This will be interesting since I know for a fact that they dropped you off at Maria’s before they were killed.”
Somebody must be talking, but who? Poo Man wondered. His first and only thought was Maria. That chili bean-eating bitch done ran her fucking mouth! Stupid bitch had probably been looking out the damn window when Ali and his man dropped me off, Poo-Man thought.
“It’s Poo-Man,” he said, defeated. He figured it was in his best interest to go ahead and be straight up. He did not kill anybody, so fuck it.
“Okay,” Detective Carter sat back up. “Let me warn you one time. I do not tolerate games nor lies. This is a serious case; Regail and I, along with my partner plan to solve it. So be honest with me and tell me everything that happened Friday night and then I want to hear about this main suspect you have for me.”
Poo-Man knew he no longer had a winning hand. He was not about to bluff her so he did what was easy . . . he snitched.
“I met the two Arabs ’bout a week ago at the BP gas station on Alston Avenue. They saw me and called me over and asked me if I wanted to make some money.”
“How?” she inquired.
“By settin’ some guys up.” Poo-Man had gotten away with his first lie because the truth was his meeting of the Arabs was through his cousin, Riff from Chapel Hill.
“Did you take the offer?” she asked, sliding her glasses back on.
“Mmm hmm.” He nodded yes. “I put ’em on to Ghetti.”
“So, you did this on your own?”
“Yeah.”
“Did the Arabs rob Ghetti?”
“Yeah, Friday night.”
“Tell me how it went down.”
Poo-Man told her everything from the point of him calling Ghetti. He told her how Ali told him how he caught Ghetti off guard with his knife then robbed him.
“So Ali took Ghetti’s gun and car keys and his drugs?”
“Yeah that’s right.”
She would not mention that none of those items was found at the crime scene. The only thing left from the Glock .45, were four shells and four holes in Ali’s face. As Poo-Man’s story unfolded, she had a strong feeling that this Ghetti character would be her main suspect.
“What can you tell me about Ghetti?” She glanced briefly at her pad of shorthand notes then turned to a blank page. At the very top, she wrote the word ‘suspect’, then wrote ‘Ghetti’ under it.
“He’s twenty-six about six-two and he got a low-cut wit’ waves. Kinda light brown.”
“Any scars, marks or tattoos?”
“Nah, not that I can tell off hand, ain’t like I be in the shower wit’ dude.”
“Where does he live?”
“Ghetti be on some Batman cave type shit. He real strict on keepin’ his restin’ spot a secret. All I can tell ya is that he don’t stay in Durham. And oh yeah, he drives a flip-flop greenish and gold Chevy Caprice—”
“Convertible with oversized chrome rims with a white top,” Detective Carter butted in. She knew she was correct by the stunned look on his young face. In all his loose lip flapping and diarrhea of the mouth, he had forgotten to mention Ghetti’s Infiniti. Detective Carter took a moment to analyze all of her notes. Everything was starting to fit together like a puzzle with the centerpiece missing. Ghetti had a motive and in her eyes, he was the prime suspect. She ran a few theories through her mind. One. Poo-Man was telling the truth. Ghetti had killed the Arabs in revenge and Two. They had taken back his keys, gun and drugs. But why did he leave the money vest? Three. Poo-Man was holding back with his true involvement in the murders. He was seen getting out of the SUV so maybe, it was a double-cross on the Arabs. No, the fact that the money vest was not taken knocked out a bunch of motives. In all, she knew she desperately needed to talk to Maria and Ghetti.
“What is Ghetti’s real name?”
Poo-Man shrugged. “Everybody calls him Ghetti.”
“Okay, Regail. I’m going to check out a few things and if you are telling me the truth I’ll come back to speak to you.” She felt it was wise to keep it to herself about Maria being with Ghetti.
“Will you talk to the D.A. and my P.O.?”
“Yes.” She stood up. “But first, I need to find your friend, Ghetti.”
“Faggot ain’t my friend!” Poo-Man spat.
Detective Carter nodded. “I’ll be in touch with you and if you can remember anything else, just reach me by in-house mail.”
Leaving the booth, she called Detective Hartford, but the phone could not pick up a strong signal. When she was outside, she was able to reach Detective Hartford.
“Any sign of Ghetti?” Detective Carter asked as she started up the Crown Vic.
“Ghetti?” Detective Hartford asked. “I assume that’s our suspect.”
“Yes. He’s our driver of the gold convertible.”
“Maria’s new friend?”
“That’s correct.”
“I surmise you received some helpful info on the case?”
“Very helpful, look, you know how I hate to talk and drive so I will fill you in when I get there.”
Later, Ghetti found himself with Maria at the Raleigh Hilton. He was laid up in the bed watching Maria in the shower. He was planning to stay overnight and fuck Maria constantly. He had a slight buzz from his second glass of Seagram’s gin and juice. It was sweet, but burned his chest just enough to gain his attention. Licking his lips, he lowered the drink when Maria stepped out of the steamy shower. She was feeling tight because she had smoked half a blunt before her shower. With the bathroom door wide open, she gave Ghetti a show by slowly drying herself off.
“C’
mere,” he said with his dick about to explode.
Maria dropped the towel, then walked butt naked out of the bathroom to crawl on all fours when she got on the bed. She straddled him, lowering her mouth to his. She sucked thirstily on his alcohol-flavored tongue. While they kissed, she removed his boxers. When his hands palmed her ass, she lowered her pussy to grind on the length of his penis.
“Metemela,” she murmured while kissing his chest.
“Whut that mean?”
“It means, fuck me,” she said, grinding her slick pussy over his dick.
Ghetti squeezed her phat’ ass. “Lemme taste dat’ pussy.”
Maria rose up on her arms, causing her titties to bounce in his face. “Are you serious?”
“Hell yeah. You act like a nigga never licked your pussy.”
“I’m not acting, Ghetti. I never had my chocha licked.”
“Word?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” She lowered her lips back to his. She could feel his dick propping against her saturated pussy lips. Pulling up abruptly, she reached back, filling her grip with his dick. “Damelo!” she purred, which meant, “Give it to me!”
She positioned him to sit on the edge of the bed. Ghetti combed her wet hair with his fingers as she sat on the floor between his legs. A low moan eased from his chest as she used her two hands on him. He stretched his legs out as she primed him up.
“So big, Papi,” she murmured. She caused him to shiver when she circled his swelled tip with her warm tongue. Just the pleasure from her caressing hands was nearly enough to make him burst. She licked both sides of his inner thighs.
“Ohhhhh shit!” He curled his toes when her mouth swallowed his dome. She sucked on it tenderly as Ghetti fought to hold back his climax. Up and down, she sucked it with her wet mouth and soft lips. Her pace was slow with an earnest affection to please him. He was sucking in air through his tightly clenched teeth. She licked it from bottom to top, then back down to flick her tongue over and around his balls. Sliding it back into her mouth had him stuttering out her name. She sucked him nonstop until he began to climax. At the last instant, she rose up, placed it between her warm soft cleavage and allowed him to cum on her chin, neck, and breast. He fell back on the bed rubbing his face while she slid his penis up and down the valley of her breast. After she returned from the bathroom from cleaning herself off, she did the same to him with a damp warm rag. Next, he laid her down on the bed, pinning her arms above her head. She was buzzing with excitement as he licked his way past her nipples, down her belly and through her pubic hairs.
“Ghetti!” she cried when his mouth began to taste her. Ghetti went on a straight mission of licking her damp pussy. “Por favor no pares, Papi!” (Please don’t stop, daddy). She cried. Ghetti sucked every inch of her pussy. She pulled at the bed sheets until the mattress cover popped free. Her head tossed from side to side while she moaned and pleaded with him to never stop. She humped his face, palmed his head, pulling his face deeper between her thighs.
“Te sabes rico, Papi?” (Does it taste good, daddy?) “Ooohh, Ghetti, eat it baby. Eat me . . . mmmm!” Her head was now facing the foot of the bed. Never in any sexual acts had she felt something so good. Her back arched off the bed when Ghetti massaged her G-spot while blowing on her clit. One of her legs was up on his shoulder and not once did he back off from eating her. She bit down on her bottom lip as her vagina began to explode. She was halfway off the bed when she climaxed. She was left without words as he pulled her back up and into his arms.
“I’m ready,” she said breathlessly. “I want to feel you inside me.”
Ghetti needed no further hints. She was rubbing between her moist legs as he tore open a condom. She rolled on all fours, arching her ass high in the air.
“Te necesito, Ghetti. I need you, Ghetti,” she muttered when his hands squeezed her waist. She bit her bottom lip as he slid his penis up and down the length of her moist vagina. “Si, si. Yes, yes, she chanted. She let loose a long low whine when she felt him penetrating her. She began to whimper and squirm, but his hands held her in place. Saliva drooled from her gaped mouth. He started out slow, looking down at how he was stretching her open. The slightest contact of his body caused her luscious ass to quiver.
“Ohhhhh Ghetti,” she cried as he slow stroked her.
“Ohhh baby, dis’ pussy so good!”
“Fuck me, Ghetti! Mas dura Papi! Harder daddy!”
Ghetti propped up one foot to her side then threw himself deeper inside her. She began to yell and squeal as he grabbed a fist full of her damp hair. Her succulent butt was bouncing and jiggling as he fucked her harder and faster. While he mashed in and out he told her repeatedly how good her pussy was. Spasms racked through her body, as he showed no end in his stamina. She was chanting her words in Spanish, which only turned him on even more. He felt so strong to be inside her. Three minutes, juices flowed from her. Seven minutes, he reached down for her clit.
“Ooooohhhh Papi!” she shouted while falling to her elbows arching her jiggling ass. Still, his penis pounded her, searching her, feeding her. Their flesh smacked together mixed with their sex-lusting moans. He banged her out doggy style until she crumpled. Rolling her over, he hooked her legs in his arms then pushed himself back inside her. He pumped her deliriously, braced up on his chiseled arms tossing every inch of meat he had. Her tits bounced wildly, her body was drenched with the sweat of sex, and still she pleaded with him to keep going. She nearly fainted when she had an intense orgasm around his steady stroking penis. Slowly, he pulled out which made a wet slurping sound showing her pussy no mercy. He was going for the gusto. He rolled her to her side, lifted her leg in the air, slid in behind her, and then moved back inside her once again. He did it this way for a few minutes before she finally pleaded with him to stop. She could not take it anymore. Quivering, she pulled the condom off then slid his dick back inside her mouth. She tried to swallow every inch while rubbing his balls. Slurping and sucking, she pulled him to a strong nut that she swallowed down her throat. They took a twenty-minute break, then strapped up again, but this time she got on top. He ate the pussy again when they later took a shower. The more they did it the better she got used to his size. Time was absent between the two. It was dark outside and she had riskily allowed him to hit it raw with the promise that he would pull out. This was done because they had run out of condoms. Weed and alcohol led them to a poor decision. The sensation of being inside Maria raw had Ghetti close to tears. He was on top, kissing her and sliding his ridged penis in and out of her hot and juicy essence. His self-control won out when he suddenly pulled out and ejaculated on her sexy belly.
She smiled, rubbiing his cum on her belly like lotion. Looking up into his eyes, she wanted the moment to last. His dick was resting heavy on her moist patch of pussy hairs.
“That was good,” she said, breathing heavily, reaching down to caress his dick. Ghetti lowered his lips to her sweet nipples, nibbling and licking each nipple.
When they checked into the hotel, it was five o’clock. It was now 10:30 p.m. They had been at it for five hours straight. She was cuddled up tightly with Ghetti when she figured she should call home to check her answering machine before she fell asleep. Squirming from under Ghetti, she rolled to the phone. Her movements caused Ghetti to awake. She was activating the answering machine when Ghetti got up to go take a piss. Her eyes were glued to his sexy bedroom naked body. She couldn’t wait to tell Cortina about fucking Ghetti. She only had one message. She pressed the number one to hear it.
“Wednesday 6:10 p.m.” The computerized voice began. “Message One.” BEEEEP!
“Maria! This is Cortina. Please call me as soon as you get this message. The pops were at your house looking for you and some dude. Just call me pronto. Bye.”
(End of message).
BEEEEP!
Maria replayed the message and was just hanging up when Ghetti slid back in the bed rubbing her breast and kissing her shoulders. Before she got turned on, sh
e told him about the message. He froze.
“Who is Cortina?”
“She’s my best friend. Remember I mentioned her when you took me out Saturday night.”
“Oh yeah, call ’er and see whut up and put it on the speaker.”
Maria dialed the number. On the fifth ring, Cortina picked up.
“Hello,” Cortina said with a drowsy tone.
“Wake up, girl. This Maria, I just got your message, what’s going on?”
“Maria! Listen.” She paused to yawn. “Are you home?”
“No.”
“I went over to bring you your blouse around um, I think five-thirty. Anyway, when I pulled up, about eight police came out of nowhere. Sherwood was with me so you know he was scared. Two female detectives thought I was you. I showed them my fake I.D. and then they asked me a bunch of questions about you and some guy name —what’s the damn name—oh, Ghetti. The two detectives said they were homicide, Maria. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know?” Maria said honestly. Behind her, Ghetti slid out the bed and mouthed for her to hang up.
“Cortina, let me call you back, okay?”
“Okay, but call me and let me know what’s going on, girl.”
When Maria ended the call, she looked toward Ghetti who was frantically getting dressed. She knew something was wrong.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Maria,” he said, pulling up his jeans. “Get dressed.”
“Why are the police looking for us?” She felt her heart speeding up.
“Maria, I gotta bounce, baby. Some shit just hit the fan. You and I got to part ways because it’s me that the pops are lookin’ for.”
“But—”
“Just trust me, Maria, please.”
The Game of Deception Page 6