Cop Killas II

by D Mann

  “I’m just saying don’t kill everybody before we get a chance to find out something,” Mike returned, moving his head from in front of DA’s pistol. “Our lives are in jeopardy just as well as yours. Hell, let the little psycho at least torture the fucks first.”

  DA slowly returned his pistol to his side holster taking his stare from Mike and placing it on the two confined men.

  “Y’all gon’ stay true to not divulging secrets?” Ben inquired. Both men continued to staunchly plead their innocence sobbing they were only doing their jobs. DA pulled his two way radio and put out a call of urgency to Pockets with a message to bring his trade tools immediately.

  ~ Dana sat with her head in Pocket’s chest listening to him detail his love for her. “I got your back,” Pockets admitted, kissing her forehead. “I have to die before something can happen to you. I’ll kill anything that becomes a threat to you. I love you girl.”

  “I know you do baby,” Dana acknowledged. “I love you too and when I see that bitch Taquisha again, I’m gon’ put her triflin’ ass in a box for slippin’ you the eye. I ain’t forgot about that nasty hoe. She gon’ regret trying to steal my man.”

  “Girl stop being crazy,” Pockets spoke laughing. “We involved wit some serious shit here. I want you to know I mean every word I say.”

  “You know I’m gon’ be your wife one day,” Dana demanded.

  “Yeah I know,” Pockets agreed. “And you know I’m gon’ be yo’ husband.”

  “To death do we part,” Dana stated, with a smile on her face.

  “To death,” Pockets followed.

  “Yo’ hard ass like all this mushy shit don’t you?” Dana teased, poking Pockets in his side.

  The two way radio that laid on the table began to send static noise across the room. “Pockets. I need you in The Penn now! Bring your trade tools,” DA’s voice came across the two way radio.

  “On my way,” Pockets spoke, back into the two way radio. “I guess they back.”

  “Let’s go see what’s up,” Dana urged, leading the way out of the room.

  ~

  Pockets and Dana strolled into the room to the smiles of the group. “Pockets these muthafuckas need an incentive to talk,” DA growled, walking over to the couple and placing his arm around Dana. “Baby girl come with me. I wanna talk to you about something.”

  DA, Dana, Ben, Mike and Elliot left the room leaving Pockets to his craft with the Bag brothers as observers.

  Pockets cleared the table with one wiping fashion and began to roll out his bag of toys. He studied the instruments while peeking at the two remaining survivors who were now sweating from the sight of Pockets’ weapons.

  The Bag brothers laid their backs against the wall, crossing their arms in unison. They studied the young Pockets trademenship with scrutiny.

  Pockets fingered over the tools he rolled out his bag wrap and glanced at the two squirming men again.

  “I swear to you young man; I'm innocent!,” the coroner swore sobbing. “I only did my job. Why won't anyone listen to me!”

  Kid Bag leaned over and whispered in the ear of his brother Nap. Pockets spotted the quick exchange of whispers between the brothers, knelt down, fumbled through his roll along case and spied the desperate two again.

  “Young man you don't want to do this!” John Whitecloud cried out, locking eyes with Pockets. “You don't want to die from lethal injection and that's exactly what they'll give you for killing retired officials. Besides, I truly am innocent. I’ve never been convicted of any crime.”

  Nap Bags kept a stern face as he barely allowed a sign of smirking to be noticed on his lips when Pockets met his glance.

  Pockets retrieved a roll of duct tape from his roll along, walked over and taped both men’s

  ligaments at the elbows, shoulders and knees to the chairs they were cuffed and shackled to.

  The Bag brothers quickly went into a huddle watching Pockets secure the still screaming and pleading men. They both looked confused to Pockets’ methods.

  After a final tightness inspection Pockets walked back over to his roll along case and fumbled through it again.

  Pockets withdrew a hand full of nails and a hammer from his roll along, turning to face the two men with his homemade look of ensuing terror. His head swayed back and forth between the two begging men.

  The brothers glared at Pockets choice of weapons and went into a smiling conference. They

  approved. Pockets could hear Nap Bags uttered the phrase ‘old school.’

  Pockets stepped forward towards John

  Whitecloud. He placed the nail on the top of his trembling knee cap and pounded the hammer down on top of the nail with force.

  After the initial shriek of agonizing pain and thirty second cry that followed, John Whitecloud began hyperventilating and passed out. Pockets stare at Carey menaced the coroner’s heart; he began yelling his innocence again.

  The Bag brothers were impressed with Pockets implementation and it showed as the brothers gave constant head nods during their conference.

  “I thought it was a threat,” Kid Bags admitted, showing signs of excitement. “I thought it was a threat too,” Nap Bags agreed, showing his own signs of euphoria. “But he ain't say one got damn word!”

  “Yeah!” Kid Bags acknowledged, giving his brother’s fist a pound from his own. “He got right to that shit.”

  Nap Bags gave the hmmm face as Pockets prepared himself to drive a nail through the imploring coroner’s shoulder.

  “Please! I'll tell the other man whatever he wants to know,” the coroner pleaded. “Please! I'll tell you sir. Please! Let me help. I want to help you!”

  “You wanna help us?” Pockets questioned, freezing his impending swing of the hammer. “For real for real?”

  “Yes,” Carey whined. “I want justice from these pricks too. I suffered unjust scrutiny and nearly lost my career behind these assholes and their crooked dealings.”

  “Somebody call DA and let ‘em know the coroners ready to talk,” Pockets ordered, turning and smashing another nail through the coroner’s shoulder with one quick bang of his hammer.

  “Ahhh!” Carey screamed, as tears and sweat streamed down his face.

  “Oooh,” Kid Bags spoke, in awe covering his mouth. “He did it again.”

  “I didn't see it coming,” Nap Bags uttered, pulling his two way radio. Nap Bags made the call to DA. DA was pleased to hear whimpering and groaning in the

  background.

  “I thought he was going to let him get away with it after he agreed to talk,” Kid Bags guessed. “Young bruh a natural!” Nap Bags replied. Pockets grabbed the coroner around his throat giving him a warning. “Waste my time and I swear I'll drive the next nail through the top of your fucking head. You understand me!” Pockets yelled, backing away from the coroner. “You understand me?”

  “Yes,” Carey replied, sobbing. “I understand.”

  “Brothers, one of y’all min d waking that bitch up,” Pockets asked, applying a forceful pull and yanking the nail in one fluid motion out of Carey’s shoulder.

  Carey the coroner yelled as the sweat and tears continued to drench his face. He was sobbing worse than when the nail entered his shoulder.

  “Yeah I got you young bruh,” Kid Bags

  responded, stepping over and pimp slapping the unconscious John Whitecloud a couple times until he regained consciousness. John Whitecloud began to scream as soon as he awakened.

  Chapter 13

  Pressing Business

  DA and Dana listened intensively as Belinda, Ronald and Brazy shared new information. “It seems our Darryl Fi nce is the boss man of this mischief,” Ronald informed. “But his second in charge is the one who took the rap when the heat came down.”

  “Jim Hernandez spent three years in prison and was fired by the department. Since then he has kept a low profile but we found him living in Agoura Hills,” Belinda interrupted. “It seems like he still in good grace with the chief.”


  “Fall guy with benefits huh,” DA guessed, retreating back into his mind. “Jim Hernandez got his self crossed up when he got caught taking a bribe from a then mid-level banker named Adam Fince,” Brazy added.

  “Adam Fince! He related to the chief?” Dana inquired.

  “Uh huh,” Brazy answered.

  “So the ex-Chief of Police has a brother in the banking industry,” Mike uttered. “ You said midlevel banker,” DA repeated. What the banker’s name who was in authority?” DA questioned.

  Ronald tapped the keys and the screen blinked. “Simon Davenport,” Ronald told. “He was bank president at First Republic back then.”

  “First Republic!” Dana responded. “Downtown LA?”

  “Yup,” Ronald replied.

  DA and Dana both peered at one another thinking the same thing. “Where is this Simon now?” DA asked.

  Ronald began tapping on the keys again.

  “Hollywood Hills Cemetery,” Ronald replied. “Seems he caught a real bad case of lead

  poisoning; One shot to the head. Of course it was declared a suicide. But look at this,” Ronald continued, reading his laptop screen. “It seems that Simon was the star witness for the prosecution before his demise. He was ready to scapegoat his underling Adam Fince the same way Darryl Fince scapegoated his underling Jim Hernandez.”

  “Most likely Darryl Fince had Simon Davenport silenced to protect his brother Adam,” Belinda figured, running thoughts through her mind. “You remember Sharon told us that a lot of the info she found was provided by an anonymous source.”

  “What your point?” Ronald asked. “Well it seems this unknown person was passing along information that was responsible for getting several key people killed,” Belinda speculated.

  “The bankers were the only one who avoided prosecution with the exception of Simon

  Davenport,” DA informed, thinking again to himself. “We should start a new search on the banks connected to the Fince brothers. I think it’s possible that’s where we’ll find the missing link at.”

  “I think you might be right DA,” Ronald agreed. “We’ll get on it right now.” DA received a radio transmission requesting his presence in the Penn and him and Dana walked out of the room. DA and Dana strolled the final corridor exchanging their insights.

  “Baby girl, I think it’s time we go visit moms and see what she remembers,” DA suggested. “It was her boss that got murdered.”

  “Yeah a road trip is definitely in order,” Dana agreed. “Moms might remember some shit she didn’t think was important at the time.”

  “We’ll take care of that once we finish this,” DA recommended, opening the door and allowing Dana to enter the room first.

  “Oh boy can’t wait to tell you everything he knows,” Pockets told, pointing at the coroner as DA closed the door. “And Johnny here has a few pieces of information he wants to share too.”

  “The young brother was super convincing,” Nap Bags interjected.

  “Who’s talking first?” DA asked, switching views between the two confined men.

  The coroner starting pouring out his story first. “Darryl Fince threatened to have my family murdered if I didn’t constantly validate his point of view,” The coroner said, beginning to cry again. “I was scared these bastards would kill my family; it wasn’t the first time they’ve killed. I’ve never harmed anyone.”

  “What were your orders?” DA asked. “Falsify any documents I was instructed to,” the coroner answered, solemnly. “I was usually approached by Jim Hernandez or a slew of lesser ups demanding I follow strict orders.”

  “You’ve been working there for twenty years Carey!” DA growled, stepping forward towards the coroner. “You must’ve falsified thousands of documents!”

  Saliva from DA’s mouth spattered across Carey’s face as DA yelled, nearly nose to nose with the coroner. The coroner was so terrified he never felt DA’s spittle drip from his top lip.

  “Did you falsify the Arrington’s death certificate too?” DA questioned, at the top of his lungs. The question had taken the coroner back in time. DA studied his face and demeanor. The coroner looked visibly distraught as he flashed back.

  “Call it a foolish belief if you want but I really believed the young couple had a chance to destroy that system,” the coroner spoke, with his head hanging.

  “Answer the got damn question Carey fo’ I lose my fuckin’ control!” DA demanded.

  “Yes,” the coroner answered, exhaling deeply. Dana sprang forward.

  “Those were our parents’ dead man!” Dana barked, into the coroner’s face. “I know. You favor your mother,” the coroner replied, soft spoken and staring in her eyes possibly for sympathy. “Just as your brother here favors your father.”

  The coroner began to smile and let out a slight sound of laughter. “ I was supposed to be one of their star

  witnesses,” the coroner moaned, tears streaming down his face. “When they initially came to me I told them I wouldn’t risk my family and they understood that. They were really decent people. But once they managed to shake up the power structure, I wanted to testify. I wanted to see the untouchables finally get touched. They had them shook up and running scared.”

  Silence fell on the room as the coroner

  reminisced briefly. “I saw them as brave and honorable,” the coroner started. “I also saw them as my only way out and I was tired of living under constant threat. Your father once told me that he understood my situation because he had children of his own. For that reason he never tried to pressure me. He agreed once their case was strong enough, I would come forward. They were close to tearing down the Fince brothers reign.”

  “What about you John?” DA inquired, turning to face the listening John Whitecloud. “Why don’t you tell me who lined your pockets throughout the years?”

  “Most of it was hand to hand cash transfers,” John Whitecloud began, looking sorrowful. “But the money was coming from the bankers and their investors; private investors etc. Everyone knew if you wanted to do something in Los Angeles, you had to sit down with the Fince brothers. They ran the city with money and force.”

  The group continued to listen without any expressions of sympathy. “Once your parents got a hold of Simon Davenport the green light was given to take them and Davenport out,” John stated. “Your parents were gifted some damaging information on Davenport’s sexual discretions to force their will. Simon Davenport was a prestigious and upstanding man of the community and the tarnishing of his character would bring embarrassment to his fellow elites. His circle couldn’t allow their activities to come to light. It was rumored that he had a weakness for young women of other races and his specialty…teenage stud boys. It seemed that Davenport and his crowd favored the dark meat, and that was the very information used to force his hand.”

  “You said gifted,” Nap Bags interjected, still laying his back against the wall. “By who?” “No one ever knew for sure,” John answered, turning his face to eye the calm Nap Bags. “It had to be someone in his circle and someone who hated him bad. They gave up all the goods on him. Davenport was as good as done from that point on.”

  “What were your specific orders John?” DA asked. “And who gave ‘em to you.” “I received cash to vote certain ways on projects that didn’t meet the city’s strict criteria. Mostly for new developments,” John explained. “It was either take the cash or receive a bullet.”

  “It that your excuse John Whitecloud?” Kid Bags inquired. “ The bankers and the investors were going to have their way; one way or another. And I didn’t see the need to be the next councilman to end up in a custom built box,” John responded. “It was solely my reason.”

  “Once again who gave you your orders?” Pockets asked, squeezing the back of John’s neck with an extra tight grip.

  “Depends,” John replied, squinting his eyes from the neck tightening pressure of Pockets’ squeeze. “On what?” DA urged, focusing in on John’s now narrow eyes. “T
he deal itself,” John told, with pleading eyes. “Sometimes it would be Chief Fince’s yes man Dale Harris or one of his crew. Sometimes it would come from bankers or investor’s envelope henchmen. They’d show up with instructions and an envelope for payment and I would take it and cast my vote as instructed.

  DA eyed the two men silently for all of ten seconds before he backed away still glaring at the two. DA turned, touched Dana’s shoulder and headed towards the door.

  “What you wanna do with these two DA,” Pockets asked, with his hand planted firmly on John Whiteclouds’ shoulder.

  DA glanced back at the shivering men fathoming his decision. “Leave ‘em be for now,” DA ordered. “We’ll deal with them later. Right now we all need to regroup. It’s time to put a major plan together. We about to bring all this shit to an end.”

  “Luck y for you two we got pressing business or I’d have y’all asses howling to the moon; howling to da’ moon,” Pockets commented, following the group out the door with the most sincere look on his face.

  Chapter 14

  A Bad Connection “Try mom again DA,” Dana requested, studying the battery life of her own phone. “Her phone keep going straight to voicemail and my phone damn near dead.”

  DA retrieved his phone and tried calling Ms. Williams at her residence and then at the bank. Ms. Williams was non responsive to either line.

  Crafty pulled the Suburban truck in the massive circular driveway of Ms. Williams’ home and the group exited the truck.

  “This a nice ass home!” Bearilla stated, allowing her eyes to take in the one story edifice. “It don’t surprise me y’all momma live here. This is why yo’ ass so rich and stuck up, huh DA?”

  “Yeah. Something like that B,” DA answered, with a face that told of Bearilla’s question as irrelevant conversation.

  Dana rang the doorbell and the group waited along the porch area. No one answered and after a long pause Dana rang the doorbell again. After another two minutes Ms. Williams open the door adorning a fluffy robe and a towel that wrapped her hair like an East Indian.