Darius stood over Tim and watched as Tyrone walked over and looked behind the overgrown hedges that lined the back fence. Tyrone’s flashlight beam bounced until it landed on a white plastic five-gallon bucket. Darius grinned as Tyrone carefully grabbed the handle of the bucket and walked back to the car. “Tim, it looks like we are gonna have to give you a little ‘act right’ juice.”
Thin Tim rolled away from the cops and the bucket and sat with his back against the rear wheel of the patrol car. He watched as Darius cautiously removed the lid from the bucket. “What you doin’ wit’ that?”
Darius studied the contents of the bucket with the beam of his flashlight as he spoke. “I’m sure you heard about the drums of acid they found in the basement.” He turned his gaze to Thin Tim. “We saved a little for our own use.”
As Thin Tim tried to scoot away, Tyrone stomped on his leg. “You try to move again, and I’ll shoot you in the ass!”
“Bring him over here,” Darius said as he stood over the bucket. “I think ol’ Tim looks kinda thirsty.”
Thin Tim’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “No! No! No! Help! Somebody help meeeeeeeeee!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tyrone said as he dragged Thin Tim by the collar and shoved him in front of the bucket.
Darius said, “You got one more chance to answer my question before I give you the strongest drink you ever had.”
Thin Tim froze with terror, eyes locked on the bucket, as his bottom lip shivered. “I-I-I don’t kn-kn-knoooooooow…”
Tyrone shined his light on the trembling man. “Think hard, Thin Man.”
This is takin’ way too long, Darius thought as he scanned the ground with his flashlight. His beam landed on the dead rat. He bent over and picked it up by its long skinny tail. “Hey, Tim, have you ever seen what acid does when it gets on you?”
The sheer horror of the question paralyzed Thin Tim’s vocal chords. He sat bug-eyed watching Darius.
Both Tyrone and Thin Tim watched as Darius took the rat by the tail and dunked it halfway into the industrial-strength acid.
A minute later, Darius pulled the rat out. “Oh shit!” Tyrone yelled as the acid- soaked rat dissolved and smoked. “I’m gonna fuckin’ throw up!”
Thin Tim shook with terror and slobber formed on the corners of his mouth as he watched the rat liquefy in front of his eyes. “P-p-please don’t acid m-m-me,” he said in a terrified whimper.
Darius watched as the skull of the rat became visible. He then dropped the remains of the rodent into the bucket. “Okay. How about you take another look at the picture?”
Tyrone picked up the picture off the hood and handed it to Tim. “Take a real good look.”
Darius winked at his partner as he shined his light on the picture. “Tell me what you know, Tim.”
Thin Tim studied the picture for a full minute as his gin-fogged brain searched for information. Trenda’s unforgettable green eyes jostled his memory. “I…I think I seen her before…I think I seen her at Griff’s junk yard.”
Darius grinned. “When?”
Tim licked his lips as he stared at the picture. “I was over there a couple nights ago lookin’ for work. She was talkin’ to Griff about her car…” He looked up at his captors. “I swear that’s all I know, I swear!”
Darius’s grin expanded as he put the lid back on the bucket. “See, Tim, that wasn’t that bad, now was it?”
Thin Tim sat in silence with his back against the rear door of the car. “Can I go now?”
“Sure!” Darius wiped his gloved hands on Thin Tim’s jacket. “Turn around so I can get the cuffs off.”
Tyrone made sure the lid was on securely, then took the bucket back to its hiding place. Once he returned, Darius handed him his cuffs. “Time to get back for shift change.”
Thin Tim stood and rubbed his wrist as the cops got into the car. “Ain’t y’all gonna gimme a ride back?”
Tyrone looked at Tim as he started the car and turned on the headlights. “Sorry, I ain’t got time.” He then went into his shirt pocket and pulled out the bag of crack and tossed it to Thin Tim. “Here you go. Have fun.”
Darius smiled as he took off his gloves and stuck them in the glove compartment. “Oh, yeah! That was all good! All we gotta do now is visit ol’ Griff.” He tapped Tyrone on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna have to find another dead rat just in case we need to bring Griff out here for a ‘private’ questioning.”
Tyrone laughed as he reversed out the driveway, then shifted to drive and headed for the freeway. “I gotta admit, I thought you was out ya damn mind when you told me about this crazy-ass plan with the rat and acid.”
“It’s called ‘Rat Soup.’ I got the idea from this old detective from the Bronx I met a few years ago. The hardest part was finding a big enough rat.”
Tyrone chuckled. “Shit, I bet you can find all the rats you want inside the ‘Lighthouse.’”
Darius continued to smile as he sat back in his seat. “I can’t wait to visit ol’ Griff tomorrow.”
Tyrone noted the time. “Man, it’s almost quittin’ time; let’s go grab a couple of hoes after work, go to my apartment and have a few drinks to celebrate?”
Darius grinned as he shook his head. “Nah, man; the hoes I’m down with, but drinkin’? You know I’m the first to admit I can’t hold my liquor. That shit always gets me in trouble. That’s how I ended up proposing to Beverly’s ass.”
Laughing hard, Tyrone slapped the steering wheel. “You a straight fool!”
After watching the car back down the driveway and disappear, Tim walked around to the side of the Lighthouse and removed a board from one of the downstairs windows. All the serious dope heads knew about this hidden entrance.
After entering the house and finding the battery-operated lantern he’d stolen from a hardware store and stashed it there, he looked at the bag of rocks. The two weeks prior to this night, he’d managed to fight off the temptation to smoke the Devil’s Candy in his hand.
Thanks to Darius, temptation won the battle. Tim found a soda can, which a previous visitor had used as a makeshift crack pipe, and smoked himself back into the grip of his hellish addiction.
Eleven
Trenda reached into her pants and caressed her pussy after witnessing Box pleasuring himself. Mmmmmm, shit… damn that turns me the fuck on! She was so worked up, her movements cause the bed to creak. She ceased her actions and listened. She heard the rustling below her stop also.
The sound of the train’s whistle filled the night, several cars in front of them. Trenda quietly slid out of her pants and tossed the covers off. The freaky diva inside her took over as she swung her legs over the edge and eased down onto the floor.
Box’s attempt to fake sleep almost made her laugh. She gazed at his tent pole as he lay on his back. Trenda steadied her feet to compensate for the rocking motion of the train. She then un-snapped the back of her bra, removed it and tossed it on her bunk. She rubbed the moist patch on her panties for a moment before grabbing his dark gray blanket and snatching it off of him.
He did a brilliant job of fluttering his eyes, pretending to be awakened from a deep sleep. “Mya? What the…” He rubbed his eyes as he focused on the image of her beautiful breasts. “What are you doing?”
Trenda played with one of her hard nipples. “I had a feelin’ you needed help with that.”
She pointed at his rigid, throbbing meat. Embarrassed at his hardness, he attempted to cover it with his hands. “I…I don’t know what—”
Trenda closed his mouth with her hand as she got on her knees. “You talk too much.” As she wrapped her hand around his stiffness, she thought, his dick ain’t all that long, but it’s thick as hell!
As he lay there, his face full of thrill and shock, Trenda sandwiched his meat between her soft mounds. Her freaky inner-child took over as her eyes closed with tingly satisfaction. “Mmmmmm… yesssssssss…nice fat dick,” she whispered.
Pleasure-fil
led moans escaped Box as he enjoyed his first tit fuck. Trenda’s passion for oral gratification kicked in as she licked the head of his dick each time it surfaced from between her sacks. Box began pumping his hips as he rushed toward Cum City. Trenda, sensing he was close to nutting, relaxed her throat muscles and took his entire joint into her mouth. His fuzzy pubic hairs tickled her cheeks.
Box muttered a string of unintelligible words as he stiffened up, ready to shoot. Trenda’s head bobbed furiously as she sucked him like the expert she was. She then stopped and held his dick. “I want you to watch this.” She slowly stroked him.
Box gazed at her with half-closed eyes and panted, “Don’t… stop…please…I want…you.”
She gave him a freaky look. “You wanna fuck my mouth, baby?”
He tried to fuck her fist. “Yessss…pleaseeeeeeeeee…”
She rubbed his dickhead on her lips. “Watch me.”
As Box tilted his head forward, Trenda sucked him as she looked him in the eyes. That was one of her big turn-ons; making her sex partner lose control. Once she tasted his pre-cum, he could no longer watch. His body was overcome with pleasure. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Myyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” She jacked his rod and let his spray of sperm cover her pink tongue.
She moaned as his hot sperm hit the roof of her mouth. As his stick twitched in her mouth, she gently massaged his balls as she sucked every drop of cream out of him.
“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” he repeated as the best blow job of his life came to an end. “Oh, Mya…wow! That was great!”
You damn right it was. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You liked that, Mr. Box?”
“Yesssssssss, yes!” He tried to catch his breath.
She stood up, picked up her bra and put it on. “I’m glad you did.”
He opened his eyes in time to see her reach for, and put on, her pants. “Hey, where are you going? I thought you were going to spend the night?”
She put on her jacket and sat down. “I was, but I really don’t like sleeping on a top bunk.”
He watched as she put on her shoes. “You can sleep down here with me.”
Trenda chuckled as she finished tying her shoes. “C’mon now. You know damned well we can’t both fit in that little-ass bed.” She then walked over and rubbed his sweaty forehead. “Maybe we’ll run into each other on another train ride one day.”
“But, Mya…wait.” He attempted to get up. “I don’t want you to leave.”
She smiled at him knowing her “oral magic” had worked once again. “I gotta go. Night, night.”
Twelve
The following day as Trenda’s train pulled into the Jack London Square station in Oakland, California, Darius got a briefing from Tyrone over a late lunch at the Cheesecake Factory at the Baltimore Harbor. “I just talked to Terrence and he told me shit is heatin’ up.”
Darius looked at him as he finished off his roast beef sandwich. “What’s goin’ on now?”
Tyrone sat back and burped into his fist. “You remember Trenda’s roommate they found the night Trenda disappeared?”
“Yeah. Ain’t she the one they found knocked out in her apartment?”
“Yup. Her parents are sweatin’ the department to find Trenda. They want her charged with attempted murder on their daughter.”
Darius knew that Piper’s family was wealthy and well connected politically. He also knew the police chief would do all he could to find Trenda since elections were coming up. “You had any luck findin’ Trenda?”
“Nope. I checked all my sources and it’s like she evaporated.” He picked a piece of beef brisket out of his teeth. “You tried askin’ Griff, yet?”
“No, but I’m gonna go check him out when I leave here.”
Tyrone looked around to be sure no one was in earshot. “You know they’re still investigatin’ you. Terrence told me the only reason they haven’t come after you yet is because they need to get Trenda’s testimony so they have a solid case against you.”
“Fuck them haters,” Darius drank the last of his lemonade. “I’m gonna find that bitch. She’ll turn up somewhere.”
“You might wanna do that, homeboy. He also said they’re gonna pull you in next week and most likely put you on administrative leave.”
Darius couldn’t stop worrying about what Tyrone had told him over lunch. He knew the chief would love to see him fired or put in jail. They hadn’t got along since Darius filed and won a discrimination suit against the department four years ago. He also knew that if they did put him on administrative leave, they would watch him closely and restrict his movements. He put those thoughts aside as he pulled into the driveway of “B-More Auto Salvage.” He needed to focus on getting the information on Trenda he needed from Griff.
As Darius got out of his car, grateful to see the late afternoon sun after the past few rainy days, Julio hopped off the large forklift he was driving and walked up to the pearl-white Escalade while wiping his oily hands on a red rag. “Can I help you wit’ somethin’?”
Darius picked up a photo off his seat then got out and removed his dark shades. “Yes, I need some information.”
Julio walked around the customized SUV. “What kinda information?”
Darius stepped between Julio and his vehicle then showed him the picture. “Have you seen this woman before?”
Julio glared at him. “Why the fuck you askin’ me?”
Darius brushed aside his black leather jacket, exposing the badge clipped to his belt. “Because I can, punk.” He then held the picture inches from Julio’s nose. “Now, answer the goddamn question.”
Annoyed, Julio glanced at the photo. “Nah…I ain’t seen her before.”
Darius then remembered that Thin Tim had seen her at the junkyard at night. “What time do you get off work?”
“In about an hour. I work from eight to five.” He then looked over at the beat-up Dodge sedan dangling from the forklift’s blades. “Hey, I gotta get back to work. I ain’t got no more info for you.”
Darius then looked over at the long, silver Airstream trailer across the yard. “Does anybody live in that trailer?”
Julio exhaled loudly. “That’s the owner’s. He lives in there.”
Darius recalled hearing about Griff’s shifty ways in precinct reports. It was rumored that he was involved with stolen cars and peddling bootleg movies and CD’s. “Where is Griff?”
Julio pointed across the yard as he walked back to his forklift. “He’s over there runnin’ the car crusher.”
Darius put his shades back on and walked over to the loud, giant machine. He looked up into the glass-enclosed operator’s booth, ten feet over his head. Inside, Griff smoked a fat cigar as he moved levers and pressed buttons. Darius waved his hands as he yelled, “Hey! Griff! Yo!”
Griff looked down at the waving man. He opened the window of the booth and yelled, “What you want?”
Darius removed the badge from his belt and held it up. “I need to talk to you.”
Griff shook his head as he shut down the car crusher. Darius watched the hefty man climb down the ladder of the machine. After getting on the ground, Griff looked at Darius’s badge, then into his shades. “What you need to talk to me about?”
Darius watched as a Griff’s old German Shepherd, Bluto, came from behind the mobile home and walked over to them. “I’ll make this quick.” He held up the photo of Trenda. “When’s the last time you saw her?”
Griff took two quick puffs off his cigar as Bluto sniffed Darius’s pant leg. “I don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout. Who the hell is she?”
Darius looked around and saw a few customers walking around the yard, inspecting the wrecked cars for parts. He needed a place to interrogate Woodsy in private. “Follow me,” Darius said as he walked around behind the flat bed truck Griff used to bring junk cars to his yard.
Reluctantly, Griff followed him. Once they got behind the truck, Griff said, “You wastin’ my time. I told—”
&
nbsp; Darius grabbed him by the lapels of his greasy coveralls. “I know all about your crooked-ass. If you don’t stop bullshittin’ me and tell me where this bitch is, I’m gonna have my boys come through here and see how many of these goddamned cars are stolen.”
Before Griff could speak, they both heard an angry growl. Bluto bared his teeth at Darius. “Easy, Bluto…easy,” Griff said. “He don’t like folks fuckin’ wit’ his master.”
Darius let go of Griff as the dog took a step toward him. “You better call him off before I put a hole in him.” Darius slowly reached for the pistol in his shoulder holster.
Griff looked at the dog. “Bluto! Go home!”
The dog gave Darius one last menacing glare, then turned and walked back toward the mobile home. Griff took a puff off his cigar, ground it out on the fender of the truck and put it in the breast pocket of his overalls. “I don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout. I run a legit business.”
The loud sound of an air chisel cutting through metal got Darius’s attention. He let go of Griff and looked over the hood of the truck. The sound came from behind the wooden, grease-stained doors of a large, ragged garage near the back of the junkyard. He looked at Griff. “What’s going on in that garage, Griff?”
The defiant look drained from his face. “Nothin’.”
Darius walked toward the garage. “Let’s go see what that, ‘nothin’ noise is.”
Griff hurried behind him. “You got a warrant?”
Darius continued walking. “For what?”
Griff hurried past and stood between the garage door and Darius. “I know my rights. You can’t just search my property without a warrant.”
Darius balled his fist and hit him in the stomach. He watched Griff fall to the wet, oily dirt. “How’s that for a warrant, fat man?” He pushed Griff to the side with his foot as he tried to catch his breath, and slid the garage door open. He grinned and shook his head. “Griff, Griff, Griff…now why would you have your men working on a vehicle out of sight of the public eye?”
The startled pair of workers stopped dismantling a fairly new Trooper SUV as Griff struggled to his feet. “Ain’t no law…” he fought to get his breath back, “against it.”
Sins of a Siren Page 5
