The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Arriving at Q’s door, he looked through the small window and saw Chass and another woman sitting by Q’s bedside.

  He opened the door and Chass turned around at the faint sound.

  “Hello, Detective,” she said, and stood up. He walked to her and gave her a friendly handshake. “How’s he doing?” Detective Thomas asked, looking at Q and the two women.

  “About the same.”

  Mrs. Carter looked up. “I’m Mrs. Carter, Quentin’s mother. Are you a friend of his?”

  “You can say that,” Detective Thomas told her. “Actually, I was the first one on the scene and called for help.”

  “Thank you so much, Detective.” Mrs. Carter’s words were sincere and he could tell she was grateful.

  Detective Thomas nodded.

  “Did you find anything at the apartment that could help determine what happened?” Chass asked.

  “Everything is being taken to the lab. If there’s anything out of the ordinary, they’ll find it.”

  “Detective, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Chass said. “What were you doing at Quentin’s place? I’m an attorney and I know that detectives just don’t show up for nothing, so please keep it real with me.”

  Mrs. Carter looked up at them. “What were you doing there, Detective?”

  “I needed to speak with Mr. Carter about his friend Ezekiel Morrison.”

  “Zeke? What about him?” Chass inquired.

  “Did you know Mr. Morrison as well?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I did.” Chass nodded. “We all grew up together and were very close. Zeke’s death is how we reconnected again.”

  “Oh.” Detective Thomas relaxed a bit. “Well, maybe you could help me.”

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  “Do you know of anyone who would want to murder Mr. Morrison?”

  “Murder?” both women exclaimed.

  “If you’re thinking my son murdered Zeke, you’re wrong!” Mrs. Carter raised her voice. “Those two were best friends . . . like brothers.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t making that type of statement. I was just asking if there was anyone who wanted him dead. Did he have any enemies? Did he owe anyone anything? Who would benefit from his death?”

  Both women looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief. “Nobody that I can think of,” Mrs. Carter answered. “He was quite the ladies’ man but I never heard anything about him doing something to anyone that would make them kill him, or want to.”

  “I needed to get some information from him about Ezekiel’s murder.”

  “Murder?” Chass stepped forward. “You’re saying Zeke was murdered?”

  “Excuse me, I meant death,” Thomas corrected, knowing that he had slipped up. “I meant to say Ezekiel Morrison’s death.”

  “What kind of questions?” Mrs. Carter asked, growing more suspicious. “Because I can tell you right now myself, my baby wouldn’t harm a fly. Especially Ezekiel. Those two were like two peas in a pod growing up. They were practically brothers.”

  “No, ma’am, that not what I’m saying,” Detective Thomas told her. “What I meant was, I know that the two of them were close.

  “Your son was the first one on the scene to find Mr. Morrison, so I was just trying to get more information from him.”

  “What kind of information?” Mrs. Carter asked.

  “I needed to talk to him about Mr. Morrison’s acquaintances,” Detective Thomas explained. He turned to Chass. “You were close with Mr. Morrison. When was the last time you two spoke?”

  “I don’t know.” Chass shrugged. “Maybe the day before his death.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  Again Chass shrugged. “I don’t remember. Nothing important. Just one of those ‘we all need to get together’ type of conversations.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me, him and Quentin,” she answered.

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to do any harm to Mr. Morrison?” Detective Thomas asked again. “Did he mention anything in passing about getting into it with anyone? Anyone at the club, the park, the movie theater? Perhaps over a woman? Anything, anything at all?”

  Chass paused and thought back to her and Zeke’s last conversation. She shook her head. “No, not that I recall. He seemed happy.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he have a new girlfriend?” Detective Thomas asked. “Did he come into some money recently? Anything change in his life that would make him overly joyful?”

  Chass smiled. “Not that I know of.” She had been to dozens and dozens of depositions and interrogations. This guy was thorough.

  “Ezekiel was always a happy young man,” Mrs. Carter added.

  “Any chance that he would have committed suicide?” Detective Thomas asked.

  “Oh God, no!” Mrs. Carter declared, pressing her hand to her chest.

  Chass shook her head in agreement with Mrs. Carter. “No, that’s not Zeke. He would never do that. He was way too cocky to take his own life.”

  “Do you know if he took any kind of drugs?” Detective Thomas asked. Knowing that Chass was an attorney, he had to put this bait question out there. She should bite, he figured.

  “I doubt it.” Chass shook her head. “Last I remembered, he was always about his money and wouldn’t throw it away on drugs. Not even weed. Was there a toxicology report?”

  Detective Thomas smiled. She’d taken the bait. “Why would you ask that?”

  “You’re asking if he did drugs; well, a toxicology report would have answered that question for you,” Chass told him. “You would know exactly what he had in his system.”

  “Was he on drugs?” Mrs. Carter asked. “Do you think that he took some drugs and killed himself?”

  “These are just standard questions, ma’am,” Detective Thomas explained.

  “Well, it sounds to me like that’s what you’re saying,” Mrs. Carter continued.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Are these the kind of questions that you wanted to ask Quentin?” Chass asked him, kicking into attorney mode.

  “Pretty much.” Detective Thomas nodded.

  “Is he a suspect in Zeke’s death?”

  “No, not at all. I have my theories, but they don’t point toward him at all.”

  Chass nodded and picked up her purse from a nearby table and rifled through it. She pulled out a business card and handed it to the detective. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for, Detective, but if Zeke’s case isn’t completely closed, please consider me Quentin’s attorney. I can help you with whatever you may need. Just please make sure that you get in touch with me before you question my client. I want to make sure that I’m present.”

  “I’ll make sure of that,” Detective Thomas told her. He turned toward Q. “So, what are the doctors saying?”

  “He’s in a coma,” Mrs. Carter told him. “He could wake up any minute, or not at all. He’s going back into surgery tomorrow morning to remove the bullet. If he wakes up, he may never walk again.”

  Detective Thomas shook his head in disbelief and mumbled, “Damn,” under his breath. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter . . . Ms. Reed.”

  “Don’t be sorry, just get whoever did this to my son.”

  “We’re working on it.” Just as he turned to walk toward the door, he looked at the two women and spoke again.

  “Before I go, I just have one last question. Do either of you know Raven Gomez?”

  None of them saw the blip on Q’s monitor.

  “Red?” Mrs. Carter asked.

  Again several blips shot across Q’s monitor.

  “Yes, ma’am, I believe that’s what people call her,” Detective Thomas told her.

  Q’s monitors all went off at the same time. The detective, Chass and Mrs. Carter looked on in shock.

  “What’s happening?” his mother yelled out. “Quick, go get someone!”

  Q’s heart rate accelerated, his blood pres
sure rose and his brain activity began to increase. The constant alarms brought several nurses rushing into the room.

  “I’m sorry, you’ll have to step out of the room!” one of the nurses told them as she ran to Q’s bedside.

  Another nurse hurriedly escorted them out of the room but before she could go back inside, Mrs. Carter asked, “What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll come out and let you know. Please go to the waiting room. I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.”

  Chass clasped Mrs. Carter’s arm and led her to the waiting room. Detective Thomas followed.

  Mrs. Carter began praying out loud.

  “Do either of you know where I can find Raven Gomez?” asked Detective Thomas suddenly.

  Mrs. Carter stopped praying and looked at Chass.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Chass saw a flurry of activity close to Q’s room. She darted out of the waiting room with Mrs. Carter and the detective close behind her. Hospital staff quickly rushed past them. “Get him to OR 2 stat!” someone yelled.

  With tears in their eyes, the women looked at each other. Neither understood what had just happened, or how Red fit into the equation, but the question was on all three of their minds: Why did Quentin react the way he had at the mere mention of Red’s name?

  • • •

  Hours later a tired-looking doctor appeared at the entrance to the waiting room. “Family of Carter,” he announced. Chass, Mrs. Carter and the detective looked up. Chass saw the expression on his face.

  “Oh God, Quentin . . . no!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bacon opened the door to the motel room. The rush of hot air and the smell of old urine and feces smacked him in the face immediately, forcing him to drop the bag that he held in his hand.

  “Goddamn!” he yelled when the stench wafted into his nostrils. The rats jumped off her body as Red sat naked, seemingly lifeless, in the chair he had tied her to.

  She was emaciated from her starvation and dehydration, and totally incoherent. Bacon shook his head and walked to where she was seated, stepping carefully to avoid the rats and the shit on the floor.

  “You surprised me, Red.” He shook his head. “I thought that you would be tougher than this.”

  Bacon pulled out a long switchblade and cut the extension cords and duct tape from around her hands and feet. Seeing Red like this disgusted him greatly. He had always envisioned her as being almost invincible. She was always feisty and strong and now she looked like a fragile little tattered, unkempt rag doll. She was a mere shell of her former self.

  “I just can’t believe you, Red,” Bacon continued. “All that shit you talked. All that bullshit you wrote in your letter while I was locked down. Let’s see.” Bacon pulled out the crumpled letter and read from it. “ ‘I hope with all the free time on your hands you now realize that I never loved you. As quiet as it was kept, I didn’t even like you. Before you got locked up I couldn’t even stand the sight of your ugly face, and let’s not discuss the revolting sound of your voice.’ ”

  “I can’t believe you’re the same bad-ass, shit-talking bitch who wrote this trash,” Bacon told her, “In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you of your words again.” He skipped down to the next paragraph and read, “ ‘Your partner Stan’s cum tastes like ice cream in my mouth.’ ” He skipped down further. “ ‘I got your loot, you took the case, now press that bunk and do that muthafuckin’ time.’ ”

  Bacon’s hand trembled with fury as he read some more. “ ‘My new man and I reap all the benefits . . . get you a boyfriend, let him suck your dick, and leave me the fuck alone.’ ”

  “Bacon,” Red mumbled.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” she said weakly.

  “You’re sorry?” Bacon laughed. “I’ll bet you are sorry now, Red. Who wouldn’t be sorry in your position?”

  Red’s head bobbed up and down, left and right. Her eyes rolled and she was on the verge of blacking out again.

  Bacon snapped his fingers, waking her up. “Hey! Wake the fuck up.”

  Red came back into semiconsciousness. “I’m sorry.”

  Bacon smiled. This bitch is totally broken, he thought. He was glad that she wasn’t as big of a bitch as he thought she was, or else breaking her down would have taken a lot longer. He was willing to leave her tied in the motel room for as long as it took to get her mind right.

  “Bacon, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, Red, you are sorry,” Bacon said coldly. “You’re a sorry, cold-hearted bitch. And you know what, Red? Nobody on the streets is even looking for you. Nobody is even asking about you. Nobody misses you, Red. You might as well have keeled over and died. No one cares.”

  “I know. Only you care,” she slurred softly.

  Bacon pulled her up but her weak legs caused her to fall to the floor. The stench of her armpits, her stinky pussy and her shitty bottom was overwhelming.

  “Goddamn, Red!” Bacon turned away and covered his mouth and nose for a moment. He grabbed her up by her arm and led her into the bathroom and shoved her into the shower then turned on the cold water full blast.

  “No!” Red screamed from the shock. She tried to get out when the water finally hit her, and her consciousness tried to kick in. She thought Bacon was going to beat her like he did before, or this time, possibly drown her.

  “Stay in there, baby,” he told her while holding her in the shower.

  The water began to feel good to her and she realized it was what she needed. It was cooling down her body temperature from the heat in the room. It was washing the filth off of her. She opened her mouth and drank incessantly, unable to quench her thirst.

  Bacon opened up a bar of motel soap and guided it into her hand. His dick started to rise as he watched her lather her body. The suds and water looked very exciting on Red’s skin. She continued to enjoy her shower. The water felt refreshing, revitalizing, rejuvenating. She almost felt alive again.

  Red drank more water. It was delicious to her but it did nothing to satisfy her deep hunger pangs. She needed food.

  Bacon reached inside the shower and turned off the faucet. It had been a while since Red had been totally naked in front of him. He grabbed the soiled threadbare towel and wrapped it around her body. He helped her out of the shower and she stood worn and broken in his face. Bacon loved what he saw. She was now his mentally. He led her out of the bathroom and to the bed.

  “I bought you some clothes.” He picked up the bag and pulled out a fresh set of panties and bra, a pair of jeans, a shirt and some sandals. He was certain that she wouldn’t be able to walk in heels once they left.

  “Thank you, Bacon.”

  He loved her submissiveness. He loved it so much that he couldn’t stop himself from what he was about to do. Bacon laid Red back on the bed and opened up her towel. Her body was a lot thinner but still beautiful.

  He unbuckled and unzipped his pants, allowing them to fall to his knees. Bacon pulled his underwear down and his dick sprang free. Stroking it, he kneeled on the bed over Red. He licked his fingers and rubbed her pussy. On the sly he brought his hand to his nose to smell it. He wanted to make sure that she’d washed her pussy really good. Lying on top of her, he began to kiss her face and her neck.

  “I want you to remember all of this,” he whispered in her ear. “I locked you down, and I freed you. I control your life, Red, remember that.”

  Red’s breathing became heavy. His weight was crushing her, but he took it differently. Bacon slipped his dick up and down the center of her vagina until he felt her opening. Easing himself inside her, he continued to kiss her face. Instinctively, Red’s lips met his.

  He pushed himself deeper into her pussy, enjoying the feeling of control it gave him. The more he stroked the more her pussy gripped him. Bacon loved that.

  “I can always bring you back here, and let you live with the rats. I can let you live sitting in shit and piss for the rest of your life. Is this how you want
to live your life, Red? Is this how you want to grow old?”

  He thrust deeper into her.

  “Answer me, baby,” Bacon whispered in her ear.

  “No. Not like this,” Red told him.

  Picking up his pace, Bacon reminded her, “I’m your lifeline. I’m your only hope for survival. It’s about choosing to live, or choosing to slowly die in this shithole. So now let me hear it again, Red. Let me hear your choice.” On the verge of cumming, he began to fuck her harder.

  The choice for Red was clear. The shower had invigorated her. Her mind could think again, but she couldn’t let Bacon know that. She had to keep acting incoherent. But he had hit the nail right on the head. She had chosen survival; survival in order to reap revenge on his sorry ass. She hated the fact that he was fucking her. She knew what he was trying to do, but she was going to get even and then some with Mr. Isadore Jefferies, only he didn’t know it. She was going to play the role, tell him what he wanted to hear and gain his trust. If she had to act like a bitch who was completely broken down, then that was what she would do. She was determined to get even and fuck his whole world up.

  “Let me hear it!” Bacon shouted, about to nut. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.

  “Yes,” Red cried out.

  “Yes, what?”

  “I choose you,” Red said. “I choose to survive.”

  Just then, Bacon let out the biggest wad of nut that he could produce.

  “Goddamn!” he panted as he continued to thrust into her. He wanted all that he had to shoot in Red. “Whew . . .” He exhaled and finally withdrew himself from her. “Go ahead and get dressed,” he told her.

  • • •

  Red did as she was told.

  She had just completed step one: get out of the motel room alive. And now, she would work on step two: she would play broken and get his trust. And that would open up the way to step three: she was going to make him wish that he were dead.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  An hour later, Bacon opened the door and led Red into the place that he had for Maria whenever she came to town, a small brownstone on the industrial side of town that he had purchased and had fixed up. He allowed Maria to stay there because he didn’t want her at his place, or even knowing where he really stayed. Bacon had pushed Maria away because he could tell that she had started catching feelings for him. Mixing business with pleasure proved too complicated so he relinquished her pleasure principles and kept everything strictly business.