Chapter
3
Pettiway drove back uptown the 47th Precinct in silence. His partner was brewing in the passenger seat over their slight confrontation, but Pettiway’s wheels were turning. He was concentrating on the murder at hand. He was working out the love triangle motive, which wouldn’t be the first excuse for someone to commit murder, but for some reason it just didn’t stick for him.
“Let me bounce something off you for a moment,” Pettiway told his partner. When he didn’t respond he took it as the go ahead. “Our vic find’s out his girl is sleeping around on him. He confront the girlfriend and guy friend. Words exchange and things get heated. Somewhere along the line shots is fired and our vic is killed. Does that seems like it fits?”
Parish put his attitude aside for a moment as he thought the motive over. “It’s plausible. Definitely plausible,” he said after a moment.
“Definitely is. But here’s the kicker. The father said he never took the subway anywhere. Always taxis. We know he had other options because he had a enough money on him to take a taxi from anywhere in the five boroughs.”
“True,” Parish agreed as he started to think harder.
“According to the vic’s father and pal, the girlfriend lives on 110th and Lenox. If he took a taxi from there that would be no more than ten, maybe fifteen bucks.”
“He definitely had enough for cab fare,” Parish said as his interest was piqued.
“Here’s the real kicker. Our vic goes to see the girlfriend. They argued. Go their separate ways. He hopes on the train. But the 6 Train runs down the East side not the West.”
Parish mulled it over for a second. “Maybe he needed to walk it off before he hop the subway. Too angry and needed to walk it off.” After a second he added, “Maybe the side guy lived on the East side, or at least closer to the 6 line.”
“Could be,” Pettiway agreed. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds he said, “This is Detective Pettiway from the 4-7, Homicide Division. Can you connect me to a supervisor please. Sure, I’ll hold.” He glanced over at the Parish’s confused look and told him, “I’m trying to find out who his P.O. is. If we’re lucky he’ll have the girlfriend in the system.”
“I get it. Maybe the vic was paroled to her residence.”
“Yeah. She can…” Pettiway stopped in mid-sentence as someone returned to the phone. “Yes. I’m Detective Pettiway. I was wondering if you can help me with a case. I’m trying to locate some information on one Ali Ricardo. He was released from prison a while back. I wanted to know if you had an address on him. Sure, I’ll hold.”
“While you’re doing that I’ll give one of my old buddies from the Gang Unit a call. Maybe they know something,” Parish said enthused as he pulled out his cell phone.
“Yes, I’m still here. 207? Yeah, I got that one. I was wondering if you had an address for a girlfriend. Okay, thank you. If it’s possible, can you have that information faxed to my office at the 4-7? Okay, thanks.” Pettiway hung up with a new sense of hope.
“You don’t say? Alright. Thanks, Hernandez. I owe you one!” Parish said excited.
“Show and tell time,” Pettiway said as he pulled over on a side street.
“My old partner Hernandez ran our vic through the computer. Just as I said, he’s in the upper echelon of Hell Bound. He’s their muscle. His name surfaced in three homicides a while back but there was no evidence. Recently, a fellow gang member reported to a E.R. doc that he was assaulted with a handgun by our vic. Left him bloody and needing seven stitches to close a gash over his eye. The E.R. doc reported the incident to the officer on hand. When the officer questioned the guy…”
“Let me guess, he recanted,” Pettiway said cutting him off.
“Exactly. But according to the doc the official report was the altercation was over a girl!”
Pettiway smiled. “Kisha.”
“The victim didn’t say who the girl was but it’s highly likely. What do you got?”
“The vic was paroled to the father’s place. But several months ago there was a domestic disturbance between our vic and his girlfriend Kisha. The girlfriend claimed our vic grabbed her by the shirt. Had her pretty shook up. She didn’t want to press charges but wanted his P.O. to enforce the don’t come back around rule. The next day the girlfriend calls back and says everything was just a miss understanding. He apologized and they were working things out for the sake of their daughter. The P.O. doesn’t buy it but the girlfriend pushed the issue and threatens to start making noise if the P.O. makes a big deal of it.”
“Let me guess, the chicken shit P.O. folded,” Parish said in disgust.
“Aye, new P.O. fresh on the job. Still on the probation himself. He doesn’t want any problems from a girlfriend who enjoys getting grabbed up at the collar.”
“Like I said, chicken shit.”
“But get this. The P.O. decides to cover his own ass.”
“Smart chicken shit.”
“Exactly. He get’s the girlfriend’s address and let her know he’ll be doing unannounced pop up visits just to make she was okay. The girlfriend gripes but the P.O. drills it in her head that it’s his job.”
“So we’re heading over to Harlem?” Parish asked enthused.
“As soon as run inside the store and get me something to drink. I’m a little parched,” Pettiway told him.
“Well partner, let’s quench that thirst and go talk to Kisha,” Parish said a little more upbeat.
Last Stop Page 3
