by Kiki Swinson
“He didn’t own shit! He was a fucking drug dealer!” I blurted out.
“We spoke to the family not too long ago and they’re saddened by this news and ask that we give them their privacy so that they can mourn the loss of their loved one. We reached out to the lead detectives of this murder investigation, but so far, we haven’t heard back from them. We will keep you informed as this investigation continues. My name is Tonya Spaulden and you’re watching Ten on Your Side.”
I can’t tell you how many times my stomach did somersaults. I just wished that everyone would shut up about Terrell. Who cares if he’s dead? He was a piece of shit. He was disrespectful, a cheater, and he was abusive. So, why won’t they air that? Why won’t they talk about him being a drug dealer? He wasn’t an owner of a janitorial business. He was a fucking swindler. And he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself, so kill that noise.
After the news report for Terrell ended, I wasn’t interested in watching anything else, especially after almost running into Detective Belle and now hearing that Terrell’s body had been identified. What am I going to do now?
* * *
I cried about my situation for the majority of the time Mrs. Mabel was gone. When she returned, I had managed to pull myself together by taking a shower and changing clothes. “Good evening, sweetheart,” she greeted me when she came in the house. I was sitting on her couch and watching television.
“Hi, Mrs. Mabel,” I greeted her back, giving her a warm smile.
“I see you changed your clothes.” She noticed this after she had closed the front door and locked it. She walked farther into the apartment.
“You won’t believe what I’ve done.”
“It looks like you went into your apartment and got some clothes.”
I smiled bashfully. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did.”
“How does it look over there?” Her questions continued as she walked by me. I didn’t realize she was putting her purse in her bedroom until she came back into the living room empty-handed.
“It’s a mess. I started to stay in there and do a major cleanup, but I didn’t want to take the risk of the cops coming and seeing me.”
“What exactly did they do over there?” she asked as she took a seat on the love seat across from me.
“There’s black dust everywhere. Doors, doorknobs, window seals, tables, and chairs, you name it.”
“Why would they do all of that?”
“Mrs. Mabel, I haven’t the slightest idea. Cops will tell you one thing and do another. They do it to keep everybody in the blind.”
“So I hear that they found your ex-boyfriend.”
“How do you know?” I asked her. I wanted to pick her brain to see exactly what she knew.
“The news came on while I was in the waiting area of my doctor’s office. They showed his picture.”
“Really?” I said, trying to act surprised.
“Yes. The news reporter said that they found his body and they have a few leads.”
“I hope they find the person that did it.” I wanted to make it look like I was concerned about Terrell and his family getting justice.
“I hope they do too. Because regardless what that guy did, no one deserves to die, especially the way he did.”
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“You might wanna call his folks and send them your condolences.”
Shocked by Mrs. Mabel’s suggestion, I agreed with her gesture, but I knew I was never going to call Terrell’s family. They would send the cops on my ass quicker than I could blink my eyes. In addition to them calling the cops on me, they’d tell me to shove my condolences up my ass, and rightfully so. They didn’t care about how Terrell used to treat me. All they cared about was that the person that killed their loved one got what she deserved. Point-blank!
“Remember when the cops said that your life was in danger?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you think that the person that killed your ex-boyfriend could be looking for you too?” she asked me. She gave me an expression of concern.
I thought for a second, because first of all, I’m the one that killed him, so if I tell her that, I’d be sealing my fate in a court of law. On the flip side, it was important that I be careful with my words because I didn’t want her to think that by having me staying here in her place, she would also be putting her life in danger. So, what should I tell her? “Terrell had a lot of women. When he and I first started dating, an ex-girlfriend of his started stalking us. She threatened him bodily harm if he continued to see me. And she threatened me as well. Thank God she never went through with it, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if she had. Oh, but just recently, I was told that Terrell owed a lot of money to some very bad people. So the only thing I can think of is that they went to him for payment, and when they realized that he didn’t have it, they killed him,” I said. Telling her this made-up story didn’t take much to conjure up. I just hoped that the words I chose didn’t scare her to the point that she wanted to get me away from her as quickly as possible.
“And you’re not afraid for your safety?”
“No.”
“And why not?”
“Because I don’t know them. The only people he introduced me to are the people in his family.”
“People in this world are so mean and cruel,” she commented.
“Yes, they are, Mrs. Mabel. That’s why I try to stay by myself.”
“That’s the way you gotta be sometimes. Can’t trust people nowadays. You better learn from this situation with your ex-boyfriend and watch the company you keep,” she warned me, and then she got up from her sofa and headed into the kitchen. “Want something to drink while I’m in here?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you, though,” I said, watching her as she walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Mabel was a small woman in size, but she was a strong woman in wisdom and heart. You can’t pull the wool over her eyes and tell her that it’s cotton. And knowing this, I knew that I had to stay two steps ahead of her. While she grilled me with one question after the next, I wasn’t sure if she was trying to catch me in a lie or she was trying to gain the facts about the saga concerning Terrell and my safety. Thankfully, the story I gave her sounded plausible and to her satisfaction, because if it hadn’t, she’d probably send me packing.
11
A FEW HOURS LATER
Four hours passed and all I found myself doing was lying around Mrs. Mabel’s apartment and watching television. Mrs. Mabel cooked an early dinner for us. The oven-baked salmon and steamed veggie medley hit the spot, considering I really hadn’t had anything good to eat in the last two days. The food was delicious.
Once I filled my tummy, I got Mrs. Mabel to watch a couple of movies instead of watching shows with commercials running every seven to eight minutes. I felt like the less commercials we saw, the better my chances were that she wouldn’t see any news reports concerning Terrell’s murder case or anything with my name attached to it.
While the television was playing, I started thinking about my mother. To hear Detective Belle say that she wasn’t dead gave me the happiest feeling in the world, which was why I cried after coming back into Mrs. Mabel’s apartment. And even though I saw a light at the end of that tunnel, I now had to find out where my mother was. I had no idea how I was going to do it, but I would find a way, even if it meant putting my own life on the line.
* * *
On her way to bed, Mrs. Mabel suggested that I sleep in the guest bedroom this evening. I thanked her, but insisted that I’d rather sleep on the sofa again. That way, I could hear what was going on outside. She told me she understood and went to bed. “Let me know if you need something,” she said, and then she disappeared into her bedroom. I knew that it would be impossible for me to get a good night’s rest because of everything I had going on. When I knew for sure that Mrs. Mabel had gone to sleep, I turned the TV station to the local news so I could stay informed of what was going on arou
nd the city. For the first couple of hours, there was no breaking news, so I grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and found a good spot on the sofa to snuggle into.
I hadn’t realized it until I heard a noise that I had fallen asleep. At first, I thought it was Mrs. Mabel doing something in her bedroom, but when I muted the TV, I heard the shuffling sound again. After I listened for a minute or so, I realized that the sound was coming from outside, so I jumped into action. I powered off the television, and then I tiptoed to the window and peered through the blinds. I didn’t see anything on the sidewalk or the grass that led up to this apartment building, so I crept to the front door and looked through the peephole. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach when I saw two men creeping into my apartment. I couldn’t tell who it was because their backs were facing Mrs. Mabel’s front door. One part of me wanted to open the door and let them know that I saw them, but then I realized that if I did say something, I could be putting myself in danger or at risk of being caught. So I stood there and watched as those two guys entered into my personal domain. I felt so helpless and defeated to have no say-so or be able to take action against something that concerned me. As I continued to look at my apartment door from Mrs. Mabel’s apartment, my helplessness elevated to anger.
The feeling of hopelessness began to take over my entire body, and I felt like if I continued to stay there and did not do anything, then I might be allowing these guys to take things from my house that had sentimental value. And what they couldn’t take, they could possibly destroy. I knocked on Mrs. Mabel’s bedroom door and asked her if I could come in.
Swiftly she got up and opened her door in less than three seconds. She stood there with a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” she asked me.
“No. I just saw two guys break into my apartment and now they’re inside, probably stealing me blind.”
“How do you know two guys are in your apartment?”
“Because I heard a booming sound while I was lying on the sofa. So I got up and looked out the window, and when I didn’t see anything, I looked through your peephole, and that’s when I saw them going into my apartment.”
“Maybe it’s the police,” she suggested.
“The police are not going to break into my apartment. I heard them kicking my door, and then when I got up and looked at the peephole, they were going inside.”
“Think we oughta call the police?”
“By the time they’d get here, those guys would probably be gone.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
“If you could open the door and scare them, or let them know you see them, I’m sure they’ll run away.”
“I don’t know, Misty. That sounds a bit dangerous. I mean, what if it’s the men that killed your ex-boyfriend?” she asked me, her facial expression very grim-looking.
She went from this hard-ass lady that won’t take anyone’s shit to this meek and scared old woman. I guess that when I told her that Terrell probably was murdered at the hands of some men he owed money to, I must have terrified her. Damn! I really put my foot in my mouth. Now I had to think of another way to get her on board so I could find out who was in my apartment.
“Look, I’ll tell you what, we’ll do it together, okay?” I tried compromising with her.
She hesitated and then said, “I don’t know. I think it would be best to call the police.”
“Never mind,” I said, and stormed off.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked in a whisper-like tone.
I ignored her because I didn’t even know what I was going to do. So having her ask me irritated me, because all I needed her to do was open up her front door, yell to let them know what she knew—that they were inside my apartment—and that she was going to call the cops. And I really didn’t know if this tactic could possibly scare them away.
“Hey, what are you going to do?” she repeated, but I ignored her again. And before I knew it, she was down on my heels.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what I was going to do, and that’s when she said, “Why don’t you do it?”
I thought for a second and that’s when that same idea popped into my head. And without further thought, I opened her door, slightly ajar, and yelled, “I know you’re in there. Now you better leave before I call the cops.”
I stood there and nothing happened. I couldn’t tell you if they heard me and they were laying low to see if I was going to close the door. Or if while I was in the back of Mrs. Mabel’s apartment, trying to get her to do what I was doing now, they had already left.
I continued to stand there while Mrs. Mabel stood behind me. She and I both stood still to see or hear what was going to happen next. And then a minute had passed and we heard a little crackle sound coming from my apartment. It startled me because I knew that there was still someone inside my apartment.
“Did you hear that?” Mrs. Mabel whispered.
“I heard you in there. Now this is your last warning. If you don’t leave right now, I’m gonna call the cops,” I threatened, and then I stepped backward just in case the people in my apartment wanted to wave their guns at Mrs. Mabel’s apartment door.
“You heard her. We’re going to call the cops if you don’t leave right now,” Mrs. Mabel blurted out. I couldn’t believe that she opened her mouth. Just a few minutes ago, she didn’t like the idea of opening her front door and making her presence known. Now she’s all over the top of me, damn near breaking her neck to be heard. I looked back over my shoulder with a now you wanna open your mouth expression.
“Look, there they are!” she yelled, and startled the hell out of me.
I turned my attention back toward my apartment, and by the time I did, I could only see the backs of both men. I couldn’t tell if they were white or black or young or old. I did manage to see that they hadn’t had anything in their hands, so I felt a little better. “Did you get a chance to see their faces?” I asked her.
“I did.”
“What did they look like?”
“Two young guys with dark hair.”
“White or black?”
“White, I think,” she said.
I pushed the front door closed and ran to a nearby window. I opened the blind and peered out between them and didn’t see anything or anyone. “Fuck!” I spat. The frustration inside of me began to boil over.
“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Mrs. Mabel chastised me.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mabel, but two guys were just in my apartment,” I explained, trying to reason with her.
“They were probably some young punks that live in the neighborhood. They see the cops walking around this neighborhood, asking questions about you, and then running in and out of your apartment sends the message that you’re not home. And if you’re not home, your place is a breeding ground for robberies,” she pointed out. But I wasn’t trying to hear a word Mrs. Mabel was saying. It was bad enough that I had to deal with the fucking cops ransacking my place. Now here come more petty thieves. Why don’t these people just let me live in peace?
Seething on the inside and dealing with the many thoughts circulating in my head, I felt like I was about to have a nervous breakdown. Tell me what’s going to happen next? Ugh!
Without saying anything, Mrs. Mabel opened her front door and then she walked out of the apartment. I was too distraught to find out what she was doing. I knew I needed to calm myself down so I wouldn’t say or do anything that I might regret later.
“Those guys broke the lock on your door,” she announced.
“They did what?” I asked her, even though I already heard what she said.
“I closed your door, but it wouldn’t lock. The doorknob is slightly hanging off,” she explained.
“You have got to be kidding me?!” I said, and then I removed myself from the arm of the couch, sat down on the cushion, and then buried my face into the palms of my hands.
“I’m gonna call the cops,” she in
formed me, and reached for the cordless phone for her landline, which was on the end table beside her lamp.
I quickly looked up. “No, don’t do that.” I was totally against the idea of her calling the cops. What was she trying to do, get me arrested?
“Why not?”
“What are they going to do? I mean, it’s not like they’re gonna fix my door.”
“I think they will.”
“I don’t,” I said, and then I stood up on my feet. “When you closed my door, did it open back up?”
“No, it didn’t. It closes, but it doesn’t lock,” she replied, giving me a strange look.
“Okay, well, it’ll be all right. I’ll just stay in the living room and listen out for anyone else who tries to go into my apartment.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. What if someone else goes in there and comes back out and starts shooting at you this time?”
“That’s just a risk I’m gonna have to take,” I told her. And I was not backing down.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. You’ll be putting me at risk if someone fires their gun the next time.”
“I understand, Mrs. Mabel,” I said, because I really wanted her to be quiet. Just a couple of days ago, she was taking up for me when she saw the cops ransacking my apartment. But now, her constant worrying was straining my nerves. What I needed her to do was to be quiet until I figured out what to do next.
“Are you still against me calling the cops?” She was pressing this issue.
“Don’t call ’em. I’ll take care of it,” I said with finality, and then I fell silent. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I was done engaging with her.
“Well, if you don’t need me anymore, then I’m gonna head back into my bedroom. I got another doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning,” she announced, and then she went back into her bedroom.
I wanted to say, “Good riddance, you old bitch!” but I had to remind myself that she did open her house to me. So I needed to be patient and play by her rules.