Killing Them Softly

by Glenn, Roy

  "That don’t mean nothin’. If the cops wanna pin something on you, ain’t shit you can do to stop them."

  "They said they were looking for an unidentified black woman about five eight, dark complexion with long, straight black hair," I said, and ran my hand through Qianna’s hair.

  "What else they say?"

  "That he was last seen at a bar called Shooters. You know, the place I told you that he wanted me to meet him at that night. He was there with two women. The housekeeper found Tyrone and one of the women dead the next morning. They were both naked."

  "They say anything else?"

  "That’s all the detective told me."

  "Good."

  I ran my fingers through her hair again. "Why’d you cut it?"

  "I needed a new look."

  "Why?"

  "’Cause I needed a new look. Why you makin’ a big deal of this? I cut my fuckin’ hair. It’s no big deal."

  Sometimes she can be so frustrating to deal with. She knows what I’m asking her, but she is determined to make me ask it. "Are you the woman that the police are looking for, Qianna?"

  "Wait here. I wanna show you something."

  Qianna got up and went in the back. When she came back, Qianna was carrying a manila envelope, and handed it to me. "What’s this?"

  "Look and see."

  I opened in the envelope, took out the contents, and began to read it. I knew right away that this was the information that Tyrone had gotten from the investigator he’d hired. "Where did you get this?" I asked, but I already knew. There was only one place that Qianna could have gotten it.

  "Don’t worry about that. The less you know, the better it is for you. So don’t ask me shit you really don’t want to know the answer to."

  "You killed them?"

  Qianna looked at me and shook her head. "What I just say. Don’t ask me shit."

  "But I’m asking anyway. Are you the woman the cops are looking for?"

  "What you think, Avonte; that this shit just fell into my lap? Yes, I killed them."

  "Oh my God." I dropped the papers on the coffee table, and buried my face in my hands.

  "You should be thankin’ me. Now you don’t have to worry about that shit no more. You and me can go on livin’ like we been livin’. Shit, now that bad-ass house he threw you out of is all ours."

  "What if they find you, Qianna? They have a description of you."

  "You said it yourself. They lookin’ for some bitch with long black hair. That ain’t me," Qianna said, and ran her fingers through her hair.

  "What about fingerprints?"

  "I wiped the joint down before I left."

  Once again, my head dropped into my hands and I began to cry. I was crying because I was responsible for their deaths. Responsible as if I did it myself. I may have been mad at Tyrone, mad as hell, but I didn’t want him dead.

  "Look, Avonte," Qianna started, but I jerked away. "Oh, you don’t want me to touch you now?"

  "I’m sorry."

  I heard her cell ringing in the other room. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me, and stood up. Without saying another word, she went in the back to answer it.

  While she was gone, I thought about getting up and leaving. I could hear her talking; more like arguing with whoever it was she was on the phone with, and it sounded like she would be on it for a while. I started to stick my head in the door and say, Hey, I gotta go, but that would only make her madder. And that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Qianna had already killed Tyrone and some woman he was with. I didn’t need her thinking that she had to worry about me rolling over on her.

  So I sat there—like a good girl—and waited.

  "Come here, Avonte," Qianna hollered from the other room. When I came into the room, Qianna was naked and laying across the bed. "Come here," she demanded, and I sat down on the bed next to her.

  I didn’t know what else to do, and was too scared to do anything other than what she told me to. I sat there watching as she stood, legs spread and bent at the knees.

  When she stepped in front of me, squeezing her nipples and rubbing her clit, I inhaled her scent and felt my self getting wet.

  "You want this pussy; don’t even try to play like you don’t." Qianna turned quickly and jiggled her ass in my face. "I see it in your eyes, Avonte."

  I wanted to say, "Fuck you, Qianna. I never want you to touch me again," but I didn’t say anything.

  I couldn’t.

  As hard as I tried to speak, no words would come out of my mouth.

  "Stand up."

  Once again, I did what she asked of me. Qianna unbuttoned my blouse and unhooked my bra. She pressed her body against mine. In spite of everything, I was weak for her, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  All I could do was shake my head. The sight of her large brown nipples took what little resistance I had. Qianna took one into her hand and squeezed it, as the other hand made a trail down to her clit.

  "Take them pants off so I can taste you."

  I took them off and lay down on my back. Qianna crawled above me on her hands and knees. She kissed me all over, and I wanted her to stop. But before I could protest, she kissed me hard and sucked my tongue. She tried to be rough, but Qianna’s lips and tongue were so soft.

  My clit was throbbing by the time she moved on to suck my neck. Then without using her hands, she took my nipple into her mouth and bit it harder than I liked, but even that shit felt good.

  Qianna shoved my legs apart, and slid her body between my thighs. She attacked my clit and sucked it. I could feel it swelling.

  Qianna was moving from my swollen clit to sucking my drenched lips. I used one hand to play with my nipples as the other held her head in place.

  She used her fingers to pull my lips apart and sucked me from my clit to my ass. My juices ran down my cheeks, and she greedily sucked harder. Qianna shoved her fingers deeper into my warmth, and I could feel my walls contract and tighten around her fingers. No matter how scared I was of her now, Qianna still turned me the fuck on.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Devin

  "Hello, Devin, it’s Avonte."

  "Avonte," I said, more than surprised to hear her voice. It had been a couple of months since the last time we spoke, and she gave me the impression that it was over between us. "It’s been a long time."

  Avonte laughed a little, but it was a nervous laugh. "I know it’s been a while since I talked to you, but you were on my mind, so I decided to give you a call. You know, see how you were doing."

  "I’ve been all right, I guess. How’ve you been?"

  "I’m okay."

  There was a few seconds of silence, and then Avonte said, "I’m not bothering you, am I?"

  "Not at all. What’s up?" I asked, unsure of the reason for her call, and anxious to know what she wanted.

  "Are you busy right now?"

  "Not especially."

  "I need to talk to somebody, so I was wondering if you could come by here."

  "Where is here?"

  "My apartment."

  "I didn’t know you had an apartment." The last time we got together, she was still with her husband. Avonte told me where she lived, and I told her that I would be there in an hour or so.

  "I’ll see you when you get here," Avonte said, and hung up the phone.

  On the way over there, I thought about the tone of her voice. The tone of her voice told me that there was something she needed or wanted, and it wasn’t just sex. Sex, I was down for, but I was in no mood for any drama. I had enough of my own.

  It had been a week since the police came to the office investigating Winston’s murder. As soon as I heard that he had been murdered, I knew Qianna was involved. I sat there petrified while they asked me questions, hoping that the truth wasn’t written all over my face. "I understand that you and Mr. Hunter were friends, Mr. James," the detective began. "When was the last time you saw, Mr. Hunter?"

 
"He and I had drinks at a place not far from here called Bar 89."

  "I’m not familiar with the place. Where is it?"

  "It’s on Mercer Street, between Spring and Broome."

  "While you were there with him, did you see him talking to anybody there?"

  "No," I answered quickly.

  "How long were you there?"

  "We had a couple of drinks, and I left him there. I can’t believe he’s dead," I threw in, partly because it was true. There was a part of me that didn’t want to believe that Qianna had killed Winston. But when the detective told me that Winston’s body was found tied to the bed with his throat cut, I knew that she had done it. "Can you tell me where you went after you left Mr. Hunter that night?"

  "I came back here to catch up on some work."

  "Did anybody see you?"

  "Yes, I had to sign in with security when I got back to the building. And one of the cleaning crew saw me while I was here."

  "What time was this?"

  "I got back here about seven—seven-thirty, and I was here until some time after ten."

  After the detective left the building, I waited a while before I left the building. I drove around for a while, before I stopped at a pay phone and called Qianna. "What did you do?"

  "Who the fuck is this?"

  "It’s Devin."

  "Oh, what’s up, Devin? I didn’t recognize the number."

  "I’m calling from a pay phone. What did you do?"

  "I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout. I do a lot of shit."

  "Winston! What did you do to Winston?"

  "You mean the freaky fuck that was fuckin’ your wife?"

  "What—what did you say?"

  "I said the freaky fuck that was fuckin’ your wife."

  "Never mind that. What did you do?"

  "You know what I did, Devin. I gave your boy what he deserved."

  "You gonna get us both locked up."

  "For what?"

  "You know for what! The cops just left here. They know I was with him that night. Suppose somebody saw me talking to you?"

  "What if they did? All they can say is that you talked to me and then you left. Nobody saw me leavin’ there with him."

  "I don’t like this."

  "So what if you don’t. Look, nigga, you said it yourself; cops got a rape kit and his DNA, right? Once they match his DNA it’s a done deal."

  "And what happens then?"

  "What you think gonna happen then? They’ll think he killed her."

  "And you don’t think that they’ll think that I killed him for it?"

  "No. Cops aren’t gonna think you had nothing to do with it. Not unless they think you had sex with him first. Listen, Devin, you don’t know what that mutha fucka was doin’. He would wait until you left, and then he was fuckin’ her after she passed out from them damn sleeping pills."

  All of a sudden, something that Taye said to me once began to make sense. When Taye found out that I had sex with Sandra, she said that I forced myself on her.

  "Stop lying to me!" I remembered Taye yelling that night. "I called your office—more than once; and never got an answer. Then you come home at ridiculous hours of the morning, do what you want to do to me, and run to the shower."

  "What are you talkin’ about?"

  "You forced yourself on me!"

  "What are you talking about?" I had never forced myself on her, so at the time I thought that Taye was really losing her mind. Now it all made sense.

  Winston always did have a thing for Taye, but I would have never thought that he would have sex with her while she wasn’t conscience. That shit was disgusting. No matter how disgusting I thought it was, I knew that once the police matched his DNA to the rape kit, I would be a suspect.

  Yesterday, I got a call from the detective assigned to my case, asking if I would mind coming in to talk about the case. The detective told me that they were able to match the DNA sample to Winston.

  "I don’t know what to say. I mean, I would have never thought he would do something like that. Are you sure it was him?"

  "We were able to confirm from some of your neighbors that they had seen his car parked outside your house on several occasions late at night, when you weren’t there."

  "And the robbery?"

  "We think that it was just to cover up the murder."

  It was lucky for me that I had an alibi for the night of his murder, or I would probably be in jail right now.

  When I got to the address that Avonte had given me, I was a bit surprised at how nice a building it was. I went up to her apartment. "Hello, Devin," Avonte said when she opened the door.

  "How’re you doing, Avonte? You didn’t sound too good on the phone."

  "I don’t know where to begin," Avonte said, and led me into the living room.

  "Start at the beginning."

  "It’s about Qianna."

  "I didn’t know that you were still dealing with her."

  Avonte looked away. "I kept seeing her after I stopped seeing you. She’s like a drug to me. I can’t seem to get enough of her."

  Knowing how good the sex was, and remembering how Avonte used to get off on Qianna, I wasn’t mad at her. A little jealous, but I wasn’t mad about it.

  "Why are you telling me this now, Avonte?"

  "I’m afraid of her."

  "Did she do something to you?"

  "Not to me, she killed my husband."

  "What?" I said, and thought, Not you too. "You had her kill your husband?"

  Avonte looked like me like I had lost my mind. "No. I would never do anything like that. I had nothing to do with it. I told her that I had signed a prenup and he was cutting off my money," she said quickly.

  "You need to slow down, Avonte," I said, and loosened my tie. "You need to tell me everything."

  For the next hour, Avonte told me the truth about—about everything. How her husband told her that he was seeing another woman, and that’s why she went to Puerto Rico.

  Avonte said she came home to find the other woman in her house, and she moved out after that. She told me that the entire time we were together, she was separated and getting a healthily check every month. "Why didn’t you tell me all this then?"

  "I was confused and hurt after Tyrone did that to me. The things he said made me feel worthless. I wanted you to want me for me. Not because I had money."

  "I understand you feeling that way, but I thought we had gotten past that, but I guess I was wrong. For a while I thought I was in love with you, Avonte. But I was just something for you to do; something to ease your pain."

  "I’m sorry, Devin."

  "You don’t have to apologize."

  She went on to explain that her husband had hired a private detective, and she showed me the pictures that he had taken of us together. "Where’d you get these?"

  "Qianna got them the night she killed him."

  "Are you a suspect?"

  "No. I told you that I didn’t have anything to do with any of that."

  "So what’s the problem?"

  "I’m scared to death of her!" Avonte yelled, and started to cry.

  "So what do you want me to do about it?"

  "I’m sorry, Devin. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. It’s my problem, and I’ll have to work it out for myself."

  Just then, I heard what sounded like a key hitting the lock. I looked at Avonte; her eyes were wide open in terror.

  The door opened and Qianna walked in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. "What you doin’ here?"

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Avonte

  "Hello, Qianna," Devin said, and stood up. Just the sight of Qianna standing there had me scared. "I just came to say hello."

  "I thought you said that he didn’t know where you lived?" Qianna asked me.

  "I—I asked him to come by. I needed somebody to talk to." I said. I wanted to run out of there, and put all this behind me. But once again, I was frozen by my
fear; unable to move, and barely able to speak.

  "Talk about what?" Qianna demanded to know.

  "Nothing in particular," I said softly. "I just needed to talk to somebody, that’s all."

  "Why you shakin’?"

  I wanted to say something. Tell her the truth—that I was afraid of her, and that I didn’t want to see her anymore. But I couldn’t.

  Devin started moving toward the door. "Look, Avonte, I’m outta here. Call me if you need to talk some more."

  "No, Devin. Please don’t go."

  "That’s right, Devin. What’s you’re rush?" Qianna asked, and stepped in front of him. "Since you’re here, you might as well relax, have some fun. You know, like we used to. You remember how good we were together."

  "I got places to be. I don’t have time for this now," Devin told her, and he tried to go around her.

  "What you talkin’ ’bout? You always got time to get this pussy. You know how much you love gettin’ this pussy." Qianna looked at me. "You want some of this dick, don’t you, Avonte?"

  All I could do was nod my head. Sex was the last thing on my mind, but I definitely didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to be alone with her. After coming here and finding Devin, I didn’t know what she would do.

  "Well I don’t. I told you, Qianna. I’m through with you," Devin said.

  "So you too good to get this pussy now; that what you sayin’?"

  "Not too good, just not interested."

  "Well, get the fuck out then. You ain’t the only dick in town," Qianna said angrily.

  Once again, Devin started for the door. "Please, Devin, don’t go. Don’t leave me—’’

  "What’s goin’ on here?" Qianna looked at Devin, and then she turned to me. "You told him, didn’t you, bitch?"

  I looked at her but didn’t answer.

  "Answer me!" she screamed.

  "Yes!" I screamed back. "I had to talk to somebody. I’m just so scared."

  "What you scared of?" Qianna demanded. "I told you nothin’ was gonna come of that shit."

  "She’s scared of you. I know you crazy, but you ain’t that far gone that you can’t see that she’s scared of you." Devin said, and came to stand by me.