The Game of Deception

by Victor L. Martin

  “That’s all I know,” Doctor Konner said. “I swear. He . . . came to see me a few days before Thanksgiving . . . and then . . . I read about what happened to Kimberly.”

  Volanda listened as he went on to implicate and explain why Matt had the motive to want Kimberly out of the picture. In closing the questioning, Doctor Konner mentioned that Matt had just yesterday informed him to delete all of Amanda’s medical files from his computer. Using his cell phone, the ambitious Johnston County detective called in at 3:49 a.m. to obtain a search warrant for Matt’s property.

  It led to the present, with Amanda waiting for the signal to enter. Since she was still lawfully married to Matt, she was able to persuade the Johnston County police to take a different approach on issuing the search warrant. A call came through on the dispatch radio. Amanda recognized the detective’s voice from Johnston County.

  “We’re in place,” he said calmly.

  Amanda nodded, and then looked over at Volanda. They were going in together. Volanda was behind the wheel. She drove down the block, pulling up behind Matt’s Audi. Before stepping out, they both checked their service weapons as well as made sure their bulletproof vest were on properly. Amanda used the spare key she had last night to enter.

  Volanda was surprised not to see Matt. She assumed that he was up and had heard them pulling up. They were met with silence. Amanda signaled for Volanda to follow her up to the second floor. Halfway up the stairs, Volanda glanced over her shoulder to see two Johnston County Sheriff officers coming in through the front door, followed by three Durham County Sheriffs.

  Reaching the second floor, she followed Amanda to Matt’s bedroom. Amanda felt like a stranger in her own home. She would never have thought the cycle of events would end as it hinted toward. Nearing the closed bedroom door, Amanda held up her hand, signaling Volanda to stop.

  “You hear that?” Amanda whispered, pointing to the door.

  Volanda nodded her head up and down. “Yeah, I hear it. Just not sure that I wanted to see it,” she said frowning.

  Amanda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Images of the pictures she viewed on the memory stick sprung into her mind. She hoped that what she had seen was somehow a mistake. Checking with Volanda, she made sure she was ready. With quivering fingers, Amanda reached for the doorknob. She pushed the door open and stepped in quickly with Volanda matching her steps. Volanda covered her mouth at what she saw. Amanda stood emotionless at the sight of her husband allowing another man to eat his ass out.

  Amanda looked at her replacement. “We need to talk, Matt.”

  Volanda averted her eyes when Matt boldly stood up butt ass naked. His partner remained on the bed, pulling the sheets over his nude frame.

  Matt glared at Amanda. “Why the surprised look?” he yelled. “I can say I got this . . . lust for the same sex from you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not bumping pussies with your partner.” He laughed.

  “Put some clothes on.” Amanda ignored his ridiculing words. What surprised her was the fact that she wasn’t turned on by his nakedness.

  “How about you remove yourself from my property? You are no longer on the deed to this house!” He pointed angrily at the floor. Volanda took a step forward, keeping her eyes off his pinkish flaccid penis.

  “Matt,” Volanda said, pulling out a white envelope. “We have a search warrant for your property as well as your vehicle and we are . . . ”

  “This is asinine!” he bellowed in a shaking rage with spittle flying from his mouth. “Both of you!” He jabbed a finger. “You are in the wrong position to tell me what to do! And Amanda, if this is about the other night, remember I have you on tape.”

  “So what?” Volanda was tired of exchanging words.” We have you on tape as well. But honestly, I couldn’t care less about your sexual preferences. What I’m here for is to serve this search warrant and if you have a problem with it, I’ll just have to take you, and your little friend, Theodis to the station.”

  Matt folded his arms, thinking it was merely a revengeful plot by Amanda. He hid his surprise of Volanda knowing Theodis by his name. Still neglecting to put on any clothes, he asked them what the search warrant was issued for. Volanda glanced at Amanda and saw she was having a hard time facing reality.

  “Well, somebody tell me something!” Matt yelled.

  Volanda was fed up with him. Clearing her throat, she dropped the bomb. “It’s a search warrant in connection of the murder of Kimberly Potter,” Volanda said with her eyes moving from both men.

  Matt took a step back. “This is crazy!”

  Theodis reacted in a different manner. He was only twenty-two with his entire life ahead of him. His first reaction was removing the problem. Just as Matt had encouraged him to do with Kimberly.

  The Johnston County detective was standing in the hallway listening to the verbal conflict in Matt’s bedroom. Becoming impatient plus concerned over the mood, he signaled for the two sheriffs to follow him. Suddenly he heard one of the detectives screaming for someone to put the gun down. He reacted instinctively, reaching for his side arm from his holster. Before his hand touched the rubber grip, numerous loud gunshots filled the hallway, followed by a heart-twisting announcement.

  “Officer down!”

  *Goldsboro, North Carolina*

  Same Time

  Mance was in his office going over the time sheets on the computer. He was forcing himself to focus on work and not all the bullshit going on. First, he was stressing over Ghetti not answering his calls. Second, he had a small doubt about Volanda and the seed she was carrying. He loved her, but being real about it, he knew he would have to talk to her about having a blood test. Third, the issue behind Jay. He knew it was more to it when Jay didn’t show up for work. If he wanted to act stupid, fuck it, was Mance’s stance on the issue. He was still trying to focus on his work when the phone on the desk started to ring. By the blinking yellow light, he knew it was Dayshea calling from the front desk.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he answered, leaning back in his seat.

  “Jay just walked in,” she said, doing what Mance had asked her to do.

  “Okay, thanks.” He hung up then opened the desk drawer to pull out his P89 nine millimeters. It was sitting in plain view on his desk when Jay knocked on his door. “It’s open.”

  Jay stepped in sporting a black leather Polo Ski Jacket with a fur-lined hood. He saw the gun but ignored it. He remained standing.

  “You got something you wanna say to me or about my relationship with Volanda?” Mance crossed his arms waiting for Jay to speak.

  “Can I sit down?” Jay asked.

  Mance leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. If Jay had anything to say, he would give him that chance. He nodded at the chair in front of his desk.

  “Yo,” Jay began, “I know Ghetti told you what I said last night, and yes I said it. I’ve been on some selfish shit behind you backing out of that last deal we had set up. And I said some things to Ghetti out of anger. I sat and thought about this shit, looking at the bigger picture.”

  “And what would that be?” Mance maintained his defensive stance.

  “Ummm, our race as a whole. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about things. I’m tired of reading about black on black beef. Even though this issue we got ain’t nothing major, I think its bullshit and I’m at fault. We beefing over some dumb shit, feel me?”

  Mance rubbed his face, releasing a deep sigh. “You keep harping on this beef as an issue based on we—us. Shit, I don’t recall sayin’ any slick shit about you. Neither behind your back nor in your face. Ghetti called you tryin’ to help, and you spaz the fuck out and toss threats to my people and then you—”

  “Hold up, Mance.” Jay held up his hand in a plea to squash the beef. “I’m not here to debate any of that. I’m here to admit my wrong and make peace with you, Ghetti, and Volanda. With that being said, real talk, I wanna apologize.”

  Mance leaned back, crossing his arms in deep thought. �
�Jay, my momma once told me that it takes a real man to step up and admit he’s wrong. I know you are dealin’ with your pride because I’ve had to admit I was wrong before. Yeah, I feel ya on being tired of black on black beef. And today, you and I are doing somethin’ about it instead of just talkin’ about it. So yeah, I’ll accept your apology,” Mance said in good nature.

  “I still have a job?” Jay kidded.

  “Yeah, but since you came late, you gotta close up tonight.”

  They made peace with each other, avoiding the cycle of any bullshit beef. Jay asked him about Ghetti’s whereabouts.

  “Gone to see some female,” Mance said, telling a small lie.

  Jay promised that he would apologize to Ghetti as well. Once the beef was settled, Jay asked him if it was true about Poo-Man snitching on Ghetti. Mance said yes, but held back from telling Jay about the two bodies hanging over Ghetti’s head. Jay told him about Poo-Man stealing his cousin’s Mazda. It placed Mance in a tough predicament. He now had to make a choice. Tell Volanda about it. Or keep his mouth shut. The tables were turned on him. Mance had vented on Ghetti when he said it would be snitching to tell Volanda anything about Poo-Man. When Jay left to go into the shop, Mance sat down on the edge of his desk. Reaching for his cell phone, it suddenly started to ring. Looking at the unfamiliar number, he went ahead and answered.

  “Yeah?” He stood up, replacing his nine millimeter back inside his desk.

  “This is Detective Joyner, I’m with the Johnston County Police. May I speak to Mance?”

  Mance had a bad feeling. Who wouldn’t when an unfamiliar number turned out to be the police? Volanda had left him in the dark about the murder of Kimberly Potter. Mance hesitated.

  “Hello?” the detective asked again.

  “This is Mance.”

  “Mance, there’s been a shooting. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Detective Carter has been shot.”

  Mance assaulted him with question after question, fearing the worst. Ending the call, he rushed out of the barbershop heading for Duke Hospital.

  *Chapel Hill, North Carolina*

  12:48 P.M.

  San and Ghetti were parked a block away from Riff’s crib plotting their next move. They had been sitting in Ghetti’s M45 behind the heavily tinted windows going on twenty minutes. Across from Riff’s crib was a public park and a few kids were out with their parents. Riff’s neighborhood was middle-class.

  “Whut’s it worth?” San said. His gaze was focused down the quiet street.

  “Whut?”

  San was quiet for a second. “Look at us, we about to go flat line another brother. Yeah, Poo fucked with my nephew and at the most his punk ass needs an ass whipping, but this—” San nodded at the HK .45 in his lap. “It’s too much. On your gangsta, how many white folks you ever pulled your burner on?”

  Ghetti looked at San. “You serious?”

  “I’m dead ass,” San replied. ‘G’head, answer my question.”

  Ghetti lay his head back looking up through the lightly tinted sunroof. “None.”

  “Bruh, I’m not telling you to go out and bang on the white folks, but we need to open our eyes. Look at how ignorant we are as a race. In Durham, we got kids killing each other over dumb shit. We like dogs with an electric collar. I said that because we will only do dumb shit in our own hood. You don’t see us going cross-town banging on no white folks shit. Ghetti, I’m serious. Rasta Mark put this bug in my ear and what he said was the truth. What we doing, shit gotta change, man. You know my cousin that’s in prison writing books?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he tried to escape back in 2001 and that bullshit ass paper in Raleigh put him on blast. Yeah, I can understand the public had the need to know, but they ain’t say shit about his books. Nothing. A black man doing something positive is no news. Eight fucking books under oppression and they don’t report it. Am I mad? Hell yeah! Who I need to be dumping on is them corrupt ass prison officials that’s fucking with my cousin!” San spoke the truth about the media in North Carolina.

  “I’m tired of holding myself back, Ghetti.”

  “Whut we gonna do ’bout Poo-Man?” Ghetti asked.

  San picked up his HK .45 ejecting the ten round clip. “I can’t continue this cycle no more.” San slid the gun in his waist. “I’m tired of slippin’, my nigga. I’m goin’ home.” He gave Ghetti some dap, got out, then walked back to his car.

  Ghetti remained. His mind went to the big picture. Killing Poo-Man would solve what? Killing Poo-Man would prove what? Killing Poo-Man would change what? The answers to these three questions were the same: Nothing. Killing Poo-Man would solve nothing, would prove nothing, and would change nothing. In his eyes, he was doing what the slave masters did-Lynching. Slippin’.

  “Lynch. To put to death without a legal trial.”

  Ghetti picked up his HK .45C, thumbing the safety off. He looked down the street, squinting from the sun in his eyes. His mind was made up. Ghetti thought of Maria and how Poo-Man had him set up. He could show no mercy.

  Ghetti slid the gun into the waistline of his pants then eased out of his car. He crossed the street with the weight of the gun affecting his walk. He headed up the block with his anger boiling toward Poo-Man. Walking with his head down, he thought of the words that San had poured on him. It made Ghetti think.

  “Whut the fuck am I doing?”

  He slowed to a stop. Looking around, he saw that no one was paying him any attention. Senseless violence. Black on black. He had a choice to make. Looking ahead, he stared hard at Riff’s crib, knowing that Poo-Man was inside.

  “Go kill dat nigga, nigga!” An evil thought exploded in his mind.

  Ghetti looked down at his feet then simply turned around.

  “Fuck this bullshit,” he murmured walking back to his car.

  *Durham, North Carolina*

  Duke Hospital 7:25 P.M.

  Amanda sat in the far corner of the gloomy waiting area alone with tears in her bleak eyes. Everyone knew she wanted to be left alone, so she was given her peace and space to grieve. She had her head tilted back against the wall with her eyes shut.

  To her left sat Mance. He was being consoled by Dayshea and Shasta. Stewart was present and even Mikki who was sitting with Jay. To Amanda’s right stood a group of police officers from Durham and Johnston County.

  Amanda was just now realizing reality. She never had the essence of true love, not from Matt. Lies and deceptions did not amount to love. But what about her actions with Verenity and Ghetti? They were done behind Matt’s back. She could seek no answers from him because he was dead. She replayed the events, knowing her reaction would haunt her forever. Theodis had reached under the pillow for a gun, ignoring the firm command she gave to put it down. Theodis fired first, hitting Volanda twice. Amanda had fired twice, hitting Theodis in his chest and neck. What happened next still had her hands shaking. Matt dove for Theodis’s gun then placed it against his head. Her tears, they released no amount of tension she held. When the hushed tones suddenly became silent, she opened her eyes tilting her head up. Just as she suspected, the doctor had stepped into the waiting area. He was led to Mance. He knelt in front of Mance, placing a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly. Amanda didn’t have the strength to move. She saw Dayshea gasp, covering her mouth at the doctor’s words. Shasta stood up and walked out. The doctor stood up, and Mance did the same. Amanda went back to her peace, her darkness by closing her eyes once again. She would not accept this loss. Volanda meant so much to her.

  “Amanda,” Mance softly called her name.

  She kept her eyes shut refusing to accept what Mance was going to tell her. Tears began to stream down her face. Life was not fair.

  *Chapel Hill, North Carolina*

  Same Time

  Poo-Man separated four lines of powdery cocaine at the kitchen table. Knowing he was wanted for murder had him stressing. He snorted the first line, ignored the burning, and then snorted the remaining lines. Leaning bac
k, he closed his eyes, hoping that Riff had that raw dog. Ten minutes later, his nose started running. He constantly swallowed the numbing drainage, which nearly caused him to choke. Eyes wide open, he was jacked and feeling the effects of the potent cocaine.

  Riff was helping him by obtaining a new set of wheels from a low-key chop shop. Poo-Man rubbed his face, rocking back and forth in the chair, when his cell phone suddenly rung he jumped up snatching his gun from his waist. He laughed at himself then picked up his cell phone.

  “Whut up?”

  “Yo,” Riff said. “Shit gonna be pushed back for a day or two. Ole boy gotta get the tags and title in order. I got you a two thousand and five Honda Civic. You don’t need nothing flashy. I also left a message with Mikki on her answering machine to call me so I can tell her where we parked that Mazda. Don’t answer my door nor my phone cause ain’t no telling who done seen your ass on the news.”

  Poo-Man nodded, too stuck to speak.

  “Be ready to roll when I get there . . . and don’t be snorting all my stash!”

  Poo-Man hung up, looking around the kitchen. He kept the gun in his tight grip, thinking about Maria.

  Volanda managed a weak smile when the doctor closed the door behind Mance and Amanda. Her condition was stable. Amanda had misread Dayshea and Shasta’s emotions wrongly. Volanda had indeed been hit twice with slugs from the nine millimeter. She took one in her stomach, which was blocked by her vest, but the second shot hit a major artery in her right thigh. She had lost a dangerous amount of blood. Dayshea and Shasta were happy because Volanda’s baby was going to be fine.