No Home Training (4 page)

It was seven o'clock in the morning and Detective Malloy and Sergeant Kendrick were just getting in for the start of their ten-hour shift. The short-staffed police department had the team pulling double duty most of the time. When Malloy noticed the pile of new cases in the intake box, he couldn't believe all the disturbances that had taken place in the city since they were last there. The water for their first of many cups of coffee was just starting to heat up when Kendrick brought in his first prisoner that was in lock up.

“Tangelina Marie Gibson.”

“Yeah, that's me.” Tangy leaned back in the chair as far as the shackles would allow her.

“I see here you're charged with assault of a one Vanessa Sunderland as well as resisting arrest. You know you're in a lot of trouble don't you?”

“Yeah, well it ain't nothing I can't handle.”

“Well, tough girl. Your records show you just got released a short time ago and you're on parole.”

“Tell me something I don't know.” Tangy wasn't scared of jailing it again. She considered it her home away from home getting three free meals a day and all the pussy she could eat at night.

“Well if Ms. Sunderland decides to press charges that would violate your parole, which is a mandatory ninety days.”

“Oh, well.” As she watched the cop place the call to Vanessa, Tangy sat back mad as hell that O.T. was gonna be getting in her bitch's pussy once more while she was gone.

Meanwhile Detective Malloy carefully read over the paperwork on a missing persons report and felt like there was something bizarre going on. “Well, I'll be damned! That's strange.”

“What is it?” Kendrick asked waiting to get an answer on the phone line.

“You know Alley Cats?”

“Who doesn't?”

“Well somebody came in here last night claiming his girlfriend is missing. And get this. She works at the bar!”

“Damn, that makes two people supposedly missing.”

“What's going on at that club?”

Kendrick held up his hand when Vanessa picked up obviously saying she was definitely gonna sign the paperwork.

“Well?” Tangy was on the edge of her seat.

“Pack ya bags, honey! It's ninety days for you!”

“Whatever! Take me back to my cell! And if you and Columbo over there wanna find out some shady shit going on at Alley Cats get at the fool O.T., that's y'all's best bet. Nine outta ten he behind the bullshit!”

Having another officer escort Tangy back to her holding cell to await being bused out to county lockup, Malloy went to work pulling an old file out the cabinet. “Remember that old lady who came in here acting a fool?”

Kendrick poured his coffee in a bright yellow mug and set it on the desk. “How can I forget? She called both of us and the entire department incompetent because we didn't have any substantiating leads on her only grandson Deacon McKay's disappearance.”

“Yeah, that's her.” Malloy shuffled papers. “Well, with this Nicole Daniels being missing also, that might give us enough information to really go over there and put the heat on Tony Christian.”

“You might just have something there,” Kendrick eagerly agreed as he raised his mug. “Even though I haven't heard much about him personally in the past few months, it seems as if his little brother has taken over the reins and pissed somebody off.” He laughed referring to Tangy's last minute outburst.

“Whoever it takes for me to lock up to close a few cases, I'm doing it!” Malloy found Royce's number at the bottom of the page and went on somewhat of a fishing expedition. “Yes, hello. This is Detective Malloy with the police department.”

“Have you found her?” Royce perked up not having a minute's rest for hours.

“No, not yet, sir. I just got the case. I need to ask you some more questions for my notes.”

Grilling Royce, discovering his criminal record was as long as his right arm, he strategically played the namedropping game to see what kind of response he'd get. When he mentioned O.T.'s name to Royce you could hear a pin drop as the line grew temporary silent, raising several red flags to the detective. “Well if I hear anything pertaining to Ms. Daniels, I'll be in touch.”

“Yeah, all right.”

As Detective Malloy ended the conversation, he had a huge smile on his face foreseeing something big coming out of this case was in the near horizon, maybe a possible promotion. The rest of the day he'd eagerly devote to contacting Deacon's grandmother for additional information concerning her grandson's disappearance, running Nicole Daniels's name through the system for a background check, and then he and his partner Kendrick would take a special trip down to Alley Cats.

But Royce was left not smiling. Hearing O.T.'s name mentioned in connection with Nicole's untimely vanishing had him heated. Easing back in his favorite La-Z-Boy recliner, he thought about the words Marco put in his ear when he got back from filing the report the night before. The long list of things Marco repeated that had come directly out of O.T.'s mouth made Royce's blood pressure rise. He cracked his old knuckles going over and over them in his mind: Royce's days of being a boss were numbered; going to the police was a ho-ass move; he always wanted Nicole for himself; and if Marco wanted to jump ship and work for him the door was always open; plus a few other things Marco fabricated and threw in to make the shit sound better.

Royce was glad and felt secure in his position knowing he had such trustworthy people on his team like Marco that would pull his coattail to disloyalty. Hell, to make his lies seem even more official Marco even showed Royce O.T.'s personal cell phone number locked in his phone that he claimed was given to him to use when he was ready to make that move against his boss. Royce didn't want to believe it at first, but O.T. had been acting strange. And add that with the police saying his name, it became crystal clear.

 

 

 

Tuesday evening came and it was back to business as usual. It was now two hours before Alley Cats was due to reopen and things were hectic, which was typical. Storm, who hadn't been actively showing interest in the club, made the wise decision to come back. After all, he was the owner. Needless to say, he had to keep an eye on Kenya who was acting irrational. Although he didn't blame her one bit. She did commit murder and now had to contend with London having his baby.

Kenya and Storm decided, by her hand, to come in separate cars. Avoiding the kitchen area Kenya stayed busy signing for liquor deliveries and checking the schedule to see what dancers would be coming in when Storm entered from the rear doorway.

“Hey.”

“Whatever.” Kenya brushed passed him not even looking up.

“It's gonna be a long night. Now regardless of our personal shit that can be dealt with, we need to show everybody here that ain't nothing strange going on.”

“All right, Storm. I'll try.” She fixed herself a strong drink then disappeared in the girls' dressing room glass in hand.

“Good, that's all I'm asking!” he yelled out to her.

Boz and the rest of the security crew made their way in and got their detail assignments for the night. It had been months since they'd last seen Storm and were all glad to see him back. Twisting the caps off a few beers, taking them to the head, Storm and Boz sat in the corner booth discussing certain changes that needed to take place. Knowing that Boz was the last one to leave the club before Kenya killed Chocolate Bunny, Storm had to cover his bases.

“Dig this.” Storm rubbed his hands together. “Me and you go way back and you always held me down.”

“No question, dude,” Boz affirmed.

“Well, I need you to do me a solid.”

“Name it.”

“Well when you left Sunday night, who was here?”

“I think it was Kenya and Chocolate Bunny.” Boz thought back to that night. “Yeah, it was. I think some of the girls fucked up her tires. Her crazy-ass was waiting for a tow truck.”

“Well check it.” Storm leaned in sliding Boz an envelope with close to $5,000 in it. “If anybody asks, you and Kenya locked up and left together.”

“Not a problem.” Boz, who had a wife, six kids, and a girlfriend on the side, could definitely use the hush money.

“So remember, the last time you seen ol' girl, she was sitting in her car. Okay?”

“All right, Storm, but what about the cameras in the lot?”

“Don't worry. I got the tapes.”

They drank one more beer then opened the doors for that night to a small group of businessmen who were waiting along with a handful of others. Within an hour, Alley Cats was packed. One by one the dancers took their turns center stage, swinging on the pole, standing on their head, opening their legs and just about anything else they could do to entertain the rowdy crowd and make tips.

As a nervous Kenya sat at her usual spot at the end of the bar sipping on her third glass of white wine, she kept remembering the haunting look on Chocolate Bunny's face when the first bullet struck her. No matter how loud the music was, Kenya heard echoes of London saying she was keeping Storm's baby. Tonight wasn't her night and to make matters worse, the girls started arguing in the dressing room about one of them stealing the others regular customer.

Tipsy as shit, Kenya burst through the door yelling at all of them to shut the hell up and lower their voices.

“This needs to stop now!”

“She started it!” Jordan pointed her finger. “This ugly ho don't know about me!”

“Get your hand out my face, bitch, before I bite that motherfucker off!” the new girl promised.

“Kenya, I think it's about time you better tell this whore the rules around here! She green to this game!”

“Excuse me! What did you say?” Kenya placed both hands on her hips. “Please don't tell me what the fuck I need to be doing in my own club!”

“What?” Jordan, who was used to doing as she pleased, was shocked. “You talking to me?”

“Yes, I am! You seem to be the only one who's forgetting who the boss is!”

“No, I haven't!” Jordan bucked. “It's the same Negro who owned this son of a bitch before you came to town from Detroit thinking you all that, Storm!”

Kenya had just about enough of Jordan's sassy-ass gold-filled mouth. If it wasn't for her calling Paris in the middle of the night telling her about Chocolate Bunny being pregnant, most of the bullshit she went through wouldn't even have gone down. Now she had the audacity to get fly with her. It was time Kenya showed Jordan and any other nonbelievers who was truly running thangs.

“Okay, Jordan. That's it! You're really feeling yourself tonight, so I'll tell you what! You got about five minutes in total to grab that dirty G-string out your cottage cheese ass, get dressed, and raise the fuck up out of here before I smash your head into one of these lockers! I put that on everything I love in this world!”

Watching Kenya remove her earrings, all the dancers backed up against the wall making room just in case any blows were passed. Not one of them was in the mood to catch a black eye or beat down on the humble. Most of the girls remembered the class-A ass kicking Kenya put on Royce a few months earlier and hated the thought of being in Jordan's present position. Standing with a small wad of cash in her hands and a stupid expression on her face, Jordan looked in Kenya's face and decided it was in her best interest not to try her.

Instead, the always gossiping dancer got dressed, snatching her makeup case and bag and marched out the back room and up front onto the main floor where Storm was posted, taking her complaint about being fired to him. Blah, blah, blah! Unfortunately for her, it wasn't her lucky day. There wasn't no way on God's green earth he'd go against any decision Kenya made tonight! Jordan would have to suck this one up!

About midnight, when the club was at its wildest, Storm got called to the front door by Boz. It seemed that a small entourage of familiar faces wanted to come inside, but were being denied entry. With full knowledge that they were all banned from the premises, Royce initially asked for O.T., but was informed that he wasn't there yet. By the time Storm arrived at the front, a brazen, cocky Marco was trying to flex on Boz.

“Don't let me grab them nasty dreads and take you to school, youngster!” Boz promised with certainty. “And give you a nice haircut!”

“Try it!” Marco reacted not backing down with his homeboy by his side. “You don't want none!”

“Hey now!” Storm intervened. “What it do, Royce?”

Royce was weak, having not eaten for days, but had to come to Alley Cats and see if his woman showed up to work. He hadn't shaved in two days and his suit coat was wrinkled. “How you doing, Storm?” He extended his hand. “Long time no see.”

“I'm well.” Storm wanted to punch him dead in the mouth for all the dumb shit he was talking on the island, but sympathetically gave him a pass, especially after getting a good, long look at the shape Royce was in. He knew what was happening now was bigger than that so he played off his furious grudge for Kenya's sake. “How's life been treating you?”

“Not so good,” Royce confessed assuming O.T. had more than likely told his brother about Chocolate Bunny's sudden disappearance. “Have you seen or heard from Nicole?” he cut to the chase.

“Naw, this here my first night back at the club.” Storm threw up his hands. “But my manz been here. Boz, when the last time she was at work?”