by Nikki Turner
“Oh, hello, Simone. I really can’t talk right now. I must go. I have an important meeting to attend.” Stuttering and in panic because of Simone pulling up when she did, he was hella nervous and just wanted to get out of there.
“Huh, excuse me?” she said, confused by the pastor’s words and actions.
“Umm, yeah. I can’t talk at the present. I have some other business to handle on my agenda today.” He looked at his wristwatch as a frantic expression graced his face. His steps couldn’t be any faster than a person chasing after a hundred-dollar bill flying down the street.
Simone was totally taken aback. Here this man who spent his life, so it seemed, conning people and always attempting to get in her pants, was busting his ass to leave just as she pulled up. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t slow down enough to explain why he was even here so early in the day in the first place. Was he on his way to the police station? Would she and her sisters all be locked up and on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper? What would Chase say? Question after question raced through her brain as Pastor Street promised to get back in touch with her and her sisters as soon as he possibly could. After that brief verbal exchange, God’s servant jumped in his expensive congregation-paid-for vehicle. With the dumbest expression ever known to man, he peeled off as if he was some wild teenager showing out on the block.
Simone sprinted up the walkway. Taking two steps at a time, she ran onto the porch. Busting through the front door as if she was the police conducting a raid, she shouted out for Ginger and Bunny. “Hey, y’all. Where y’all at? Hey!” Simone made sure the basement door was still locked.
“Damn, sis. Why you so loud? What you yelling for?” Ginger smirked, coming out of the bathroom with a bottle of mouthwash in his hands.
“What am I yelling for? Excuse the hell outta me, but did I or did I not just see that damn, no-good, nosy Pastor Street coming out of this house?”
“Pastor Street? Really?” Ginger played dumb, making Simone more agitated.
“Look, fool, stop playing dumb with me. What in the fuck did he want? He didn’t go near the basement, did he? Matter of fact, tell me he didn’t even come in the kitchen.”
“Naw, sis. He ain’t come in the kitchen,” Ginger teased, waving the green-colored bottle around. “He came in my mouth!” He busted out with laughter.
Simone’s facial expression needed no words. She couldn’t believe what Ginger was saying or claiming that had taken place. “Okay, so are you telling me that you, Gene, gave Pastor Street some head? Is that what in the hell you standing here saying? You ain’t serious, are you?”
Ginger smiled, sucking his teeth. “Yessssss, girl. Right there where you standing. Shiddd, I had his ass catching the Holy Ghost. He asked Jesus to help him as he busted. Sis, I had him promise to take a special love offering for my fine ass.”
“Noooooooo,” Simone laughed, holding her stomach.
“Yup, and believe it or not, Pastor got some good dick. Hell, I might even start going to church just to get another special offering!”
“Ginger, you lying.” Simone couldn’t stop smiling.
Bunny came down the stairs wiping her eyes. “Naw, the nasty tramp ain’t lying. I thought I heard voices earlier and came down here.”
“Say what?” Ginger was not the least bit embarrassed. “Well, I hope your spying ass took notes on how to give fabulous head, because, honey, I’m that real deal! You natural-born females ain’t got shit on my jaw game!”
“Oh my God, Ginger, girl, please cut it out,” Bunny giggled at his outlandish statements. “Naw, crazy bitch, I ain’t take notes, but I did take candid camera video of y’all animal asses going at it.” Holding up her cell, Bunny pushed play, showcasing Me-Ma’s entrusted pastor and appointed executor of her estate with his pants down past his knees with Ginger, a known transsexual, sucking him off.
Simone fell back on the couch. “See, now, that’s what I’m talking about. Bunny got his snake butt on video. Now let’s see him try to sell this house right from underneath us. I swear if he try that mess, it’s gonna be some real scandal-time shit jumping off at Sunday service next week!” Simone had Bunny send the illicit video to her and Ginger’s e-mail and as text messages just for backup.
For the first time since her father died, Simone finally felt as if she’d caught a break. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling, she was relieved the pastor hadn’t seen Deidra and Lenny, but she knew they had to get both of them out of that basement. After having Tallhya committed, claiming she was hearing and seeing things, Simone had a long time to think on the drive home. As much as she hated the thought of any person dying by her hand, especially her own mother, Simone knew death was the only option pending.
“Look, y’all, I don’t know how y’all really feel about that situation down there,” she nodded toward the basement door, “but we can’t risk keeping them tied up much longer. We gonna mess around and get caught up. Remember what I told y’all when we was about to rob the bank . . . in and fucking out as soon as possible.”
Ginger was the first to respond, repeating what he’d told Bunny earlier. “Okay, Simone, it’s like this. I don’t give a flying fish fuck about Momma. As far as I’m concerned, she been dead. So to me, it’s nothing. I’ll cut the bitch throat myself if y’all need me to step up. Hell, Lenny’s too!”
Only needing Bunny to make the decision to murder their mother in cold blood unanimous, Simone and Ginger waited patiently. As Bunny focused on the screen of her cell, the once diva-minded female scrolled by, picture after picture, of her and Spoe. The more pictures she saw of them happy and smiling, the more infuriated she became. With each passing breath, her temper increased. The harsh realization she’d never see her baby, Spoe, again, was more than she could stand. The nap she’d taken earlier had only made her sorrow worse. As her heart raced, Bunny’s eyes started to turn beet red. Her life would never be the same without Spoe, and no amount of money from some bank robbery she and her sisters had pulled off would make it better.
Leaping up from Me-Ma’s favorite chair, she bolted into the kitchen. As a shocked Simone and Ginger tried to trail behind her, Bunny snatched up the same razor-sharp butcher knife out of the wooden block her sister had used the night before to cut up the old sheet in the basement. Flinging the basement door wide open, the doorknob slammed into the kitchen wall, causing a small piece of plaster to fall from the ceiling. Not even bothering to turn the light switch on, Bunny ran down the stairs. Simone and Ginger looked at each other, not sure if Bunny was true to her actions. No sooner than her bare feet touched the concrete floor, she headed into the corner of the basement. Kicking the box of Christmas decorations out of the way, Bunny’s demeanor was unsympathetic. Callously seeing a now-conscious Lenny trying to speak from behind the duct tape, Bunny went to work as if she was a butcher slaughtering a hog.
Huddled in the other far corner of the mildew-smelling basement, Simone and Ginger were silent, never before seeing their sister in this bizarre state of mind. Trying to avoid the massive amounts of blood and mucus that was splattering everywhere, the pair of them wanted to stop Bunny and calm her down but couldn’t bring themselves to get in the way of the unpredictable flying blade. Momentarily pausing, Bunny seemed to examine her handiwork on what was once Lenny before turning her attention on Deidra, who was barely clinging to life anyway. Bunny decided to take matters in her own hands and speed her mother on her way.
Clutching the brown knife handle with both hands, Bunny smirked with devilish glee as she raised the butcher knife high, almost touching the low ceiling. “I miss you, Spoe! I miss you, Spoe! I just wanna see you again! I just wanna touch you! I miss you, bae! I love you! You hear me, Spoe? I love you!” With each emotional, tormented word rolling off her quivering lips, Bunny brought the sharp object down rapidly, digging it into the Deidra’s upper torso. “I just wanna be with you! I wanna hear you say I love you! Please, Spoe! Please!” Yanking it in and out of the surely dead Deidra’s b
leeding skin, Bunny then struck the top of her mother’s head, and several times ripped open both legs, then ended her gory rampage by lodging the entire shiny blade directly into the heart of the woman who’d given her birth.
Finally out of breath and energy, Bunny became eerily silent. Taking a few steps backward, she causally dropped the butcher knife to the floor. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. She didn’t show any regret. Not bothering to explain her heinous actions, she then turned to disturbingly acknowledge Simone and Ginger who were still posted in the corner, speechless and in shock. As if on cue, Bunny, covered in two different blood types, crept up the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps to the bathroom. The murderess got into the shower as if she’d not just bludgeoned to death her mother, Deidra, and Lenny, the man who wanted to be down with their conniving mother.
* * *
“Oh my fucking God,” Ginger shockingly pressed his hand to his chest.
“You right. Oh my God! I don’t know what to say! What the fuck!”
“Girl, what in the hell was that? Better yet—who in the hell was that?”
“Who you asking? It was like Bunny was in some sort of strange-ass trance or something. I mean . . . She was acting more zoned out and crazy than Tallhya was last night.” Simone shook her head in total disbelief.
“You mean, crazier than you running up on Lenny taking that old-ass gun from him.” Ginger gave his sister the side eye and cracked a sarcastic smile, not knowing what else to do or say. “You mean crazier than that shit! Shidddd, I hope that cray cray garbage ain’t floating through my DNA! ’Cause if it is, Tallhya gonna have a roommate real soon.”
Simone placed her hand on Ginger’s shoulder and returned the smile. “Don’t worry, Gene, something tells me your DNA is safe.”
Standing there a couple of minutes more trying to take in and process what had truly taken place, Simone and Ginger said a little prayer in honor of the very few good moments they’d shared with their now-deceased, selfish, unfit mother. When Deidra Banks wasn’t out running the streets chasing dreams that would never come true, she was all right. But those times were limited. Now she was gone and never coming back to cause havoc in their lives ever again.
Wasting no more time going back down memory lane, they had to think quickly and move even quicker. Although they were worried about being disturbed while they were cleaning up the horror-movie-worthy scene, Simone was concerned about Bunny’s erratic behavior that made her step off into the deep end like she’d just done. Confused watching her sister go from laughing and joking to heinously butchering two people in a matter of moments was incomprehensible. Zero to a hundred was an understatement in this case.
A lot of things had happened to all the Banks over the course of a month. Each sibling had done a lot of questionable, over-the-top stuff to survive the best way they saw fit. However, this act Bunny had just committed was far most the wildest. Now she was upstairs in the shower humming a love song while she washed their mother’s blood splatters off her face. She had just turned causally crazy, just like Tallhya. Simone and Ginger joked they hoped that wasn’t a family trait, but getting a closer look at their sister’s handiwork, Simone secretly prayed it really wasn’t—and if it was, that the bullshit missed her. Before they could get it together and deal with how to get Deidra and Lenny out of the house, they could hear Bunny’s footsteps tapping toward the front door. They both looked at each other, waiting on who would stop her from heading out the door. But before either one made the attempt to do so, they heard the front door slam and a car pulling off, heading to God knows where.
* * *
Gathering all the old blankets and sheets they could find in Me-Ma’s house, Ginger grabbed two pair of gloves and, ironically, considering the unholy job they were doing, an old “God Is Good” T-shirt to serve as a mask. Simone checked both the deceaseds’ pockets for any ID’s or personal items. Using a small hand ax, she chopped off their hands with intentions of dumping them separately from the bodies, making it harder to identify them with no fingerprints. After drinking almost a quarter of a bottle of Rémy to get his rattling nerves together, Ginger, along with Simone, started the awful task of not only wrapping the bodies up, but also scrubbing any traces of the murders from the floors and walls. Using all the bleach and other cleaning aids they could find, they disinfected the entire area.
Immediately noticing Deidra’s and Lenny’s blood seeping through the many sheets and blankets each was surrounded with, Ginger knew transporting the corpses couldn’t take place until someone made a trip to their local Home Depot. Otherwise, the trunks of their vehicles would be soiled with evidence to two murders. Switching gears, Ginger instantly went into survival mode by any means necessary—which translated into “Bitch, stay your black pretty ass out of prison.” As much as Gene loved men and what they had dangling between their legs as he morphed into Ginger, prison was not an option. He ran upstairs after informing Simone he’d be right back.
Thirty minutes later, he returned with three gigantic rolls of double ply industrial painters’ plastic. Much to his and Simone’s delight, after making sure both bodies were Saran-wrapped totally, the leakage of Deidra’s and Lenny’s body fluids was contained.
Solemnly, the blank-faced siblings began the grueling task of trying to get their mother and her boyfriend up the basement stairs. After what seemed like a lifetime of pulling, pushing, yanking, and kicking—thank God or the devil—their prayers were answered. Phase one of their disposal plan was complete. Ginger and Simone threw them onto the rear enclosed porch like two bags of garbage waiting for pickup. Unrolling an oil-stained carpet remnant from the corner of the porch, Simone further concealed their unfortunate victims from any prying eyes. Waiting for the right opportunity, they would toss them into the back of an older model van Ginger borrowed from some nine-to-five workingman he often tricked with. Dumping their problems off in a random place was the plan. Then, hopefully, they could find out what was up with Bunny going off like a caged serial murderer possessed with everything bad.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Detective Chase Dugan was still extremely exhausted. He was drained, not only physically, but mentally as well. He’d pulled an all-nighter working on what he felt was the ultimate case of a lifetime. The brief nap he’d intended on taking in the rear of the squad room almost easily turned into a full-pledged eight hours of sleep. Trying desperately to find a link between the two back-to-back bank robberies was a tedious task, to say the least. With a town full of closed-lipped folk adhering to the “no-snitch” policy, he had to depend on good old plain police work.
There were no major shortcuts this time around. Locking his fingers behind his head, he leaned back ready to do mind battle. Posted at his desk, hoping for a breakthrough, he once again started to examine the seized cell phone. Tapping the blue-colored icon, he was back on Tariq’s Facebook page. Not a rookie to the social media game, the detective picked up where he’d left off at. Hell-bent on a mission, he continued navigating through hundreds of pictures in numerous albums. Besides the faces that seemed somewhat familiar to him from earlier, the young victim had an extensive number of pictures and selfies with the same background. Tapping the decent-size cell screen, the pictures became bigger. The bigger they became, the resolution diminished. However, thanks to the detective’s 20/20 eyesight, along with being able to zoom in even more on various parts of the pictures, he smiled. He’d finally found a common denominator from Tariq and Ghostman’s cellular devices that might link them together in other ways. Apparently, each one of the now-deceased men had strong attractions to strippers that worked at Treat’s Gentlemen’s Club. One in particular: Tiffany, who just had a huge birthday celebration a few weeks prior.
Hell, yeah! This what I’m talking about! Finally, some sort of break for the kid. I was starting to question my damn self. I knew if I just took my ass to sleep for a little while I’d be good to go. Shiddd . . . It’s a good thing I did because it seems like I’ma
be taking a trip down to the club later. With a crooked smirk of satisfaction on his face, he tossed the cell on the desk and went to pour himself a cup of strong coffee.
With other officers starting their shift, Detective Dugan filled a few of them in on what he planned on doing later that evening. “Man, I’m telling you, despite all the long crazy hours and bullshit we gotta put up with from the citizens, I love this job. I mean, damn, what other type of gig can have you going to chill at the strip club and get paid to do so? I mean, what can your wife or girl say? You on the clock; city time . . . making money.”
One of the married men on the team laughed at his colleague. “You real funny, dude; a real comedian. But why don’t you get you a wife—hell, or even a woman, for that matter? Then come talk that bullshit about going to see some seminude female other than your girl and think it’s gonna be all good at home. We’ll all be bringing you flowers to the hospital!”
Laughing himself at what was said, Detective Dugan realized that hours upon hours had flown by, and he had yet to hear Simone’s beautiful voice. He liked her like he’d liked no other woman in an extremely long amount of time. There was something about her from day one that had penetrated the body armor he had built around his heart. Now, just like that, in a matter of days, the educated, poised, bank teller had broken through. Not wanting to lose Simone Banks like he’d done other females in the past from neglect of time due to his dedication to his job, he reached in his pocket, removing his own cell. Going to sit out in his car for a little privacy, he turned on his favorite radio station. With the soulful music playing softly, Chase dialed Simone’s number.
* * *
It was finally quiet at Me-Ma’s house. After all the things that’d taken place since her abrupt death, her grandkids knew she had to be turning over in that fresh grave she was lying in. Yet, some of the factors were put directly into motion by Me-Ma’s own hand reaching out from the ground. Leaving not only her money, but the family house as well to Pastor Cassius Street had set off a shitload of events that might not have taken place if her grandkids had other options in place. Playing the unfair hand that was dealt to them, at this point, it was what it was.