“Boy, lay off that weed. Stop bugging out. Remember, act normal. Do everything you used to doing; don’t change nothing. Okay? They don’t suspect you. If it comes down to it I’m your alibi. You were with me all night, simple as that. I’ll stand up for you like you do and did for me, Bobby. I got you,” Rissa vowed as she walked back and forth on the sidewalk in front of Wanda’s house as she scanned the block feeling a little uneasy herself.
After talking to Rissa, Bobby loosened up and began to feel a little bit relaxed. He had smoked a whole blunt by the time they got off the phone. All he wanted to do now was lie back and munch on some junk food. And that’s just what he did as if he hadn’t committed a double homicide less than forty-eight hours ago.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two weeks had gone by since the investigation into the double homicide of Sara Ford and Mackey started. Detective Goodhouse, the lead on the case, was a veteran of the DPD and slated to retire in less than two years with full benefits and a pension. But for old Goodhouse that would not be enough to live off of. In his eyes it never was and never could be. For him, it was like for all the blood, sweat, and brain power he had put in all these years closing cases on some of Detroit’s most abhorrent murders, he deserved much more and he was going to get his fair share of money out of the mud, so to speak, by hook or by crook.
Detective Goodhouse casually drove the speed limit on Jefferson Avenue when he reached Van Dyke. He made a left then drove through the run-down section of the hood that, it seemed, the City of Detroit had forgotten long ago. Then the detective made a quick right; then, suddenly, the scenery went from run-down and ghetto to upscale in a blink of an eye. Yeah, I should be living like this. He marveled at the well-kept lawns and mansion-like homes that were located inside the area of town known as Indian Village.
Finally at his destination, he pulled into a driveway with an eight-foot-tall wrought-iron gate surrounding the house. The home was historic in appearance as if time had stood still. A camera sat atop a portion of the brick pillar connected to the gate. Goodhouse looked up at it, showing his face; and, just like magic, the gate slowly opened.
When there was room enough for the detective’s department-issued police car to pass through, he pressed the gas pedal gently and drove up the circular driveway to the front door and parked his car. She better have my cash on deck or she ain’t getting zilch. I’ll pass this on to the next suit and tie who’s thirsty for a case in homicide.
When he got to the door he didn’t have to knock. A middle-aged woman appeared, simply telling him, “Come right this way. The lady of the house has been waiting for you.” Goodhouse had seen the woman many times but still couldn’t get past the fact that she was creepy as fuck.
She showed him to the same office space she always did when he came to see none other than Detroit’s most notorious madam, Valerie Whiteside. Goodhouse was told to make himself comfortable, also as he always was told each time. A good ten minutes passed like always then Madam Valerie appeared as if she were some superstar.
“Hello, Valerie,” the detective greeted her, waiting for a response.
There was no return in pleasantries. She sat down behind her huge office desk and just looked at him with a blank face. “Look, I don’t want to hear no small talk or anything else. Now who killed my damn brother Mackey?”
The detective exhaled hard, dreading this meeting. “Well, I’ve done my homework. He’s a young nut, obviously, to commit a double murder on people sleeping in bed in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Look, Goodhouse, stop fucking around with me and give me what you told me you had for me,” Valerie shouted as she opened the top desk drawer. Reaching in, she took out a thick white envelope and tossed it to him. He caught it then opened the envelope, thumbing through the multiple twenty dollar bills.
“Okay, Valerie, how much is it?” the detective asked, not looking up at her and still focused on the currency.
“It’s five thousand dollars. Now, run what I’ve got coming, Detective. Playtime’s over,” Valerie said harshly. She meant nothing but business.
Sliding his hand into his pocket, the detective pulled out what he found at the crime scene—Bobby’s identification card—and looked at it one last time before handing it over.
“Are you sure you don’t just want to let DPD catch up with the piece of shit and lock him up for good?” the detective questioned her. “I mean, I’ve seen Mackey’s jacket. He wasn’t no angel by far either.” Goodhouse went on to name the crimes Mackey had done time for: sentenced four to ten years for first-degree criminal sexual conduct when he was younger than thirteen years old; sentenced five to fifteen years for armed robbery. Goodhouse was about to name another case he did time for when Madam Valerie snapped.
Standing up in a rage, she swiped everything off the desk to the floor. “I don’t give a goddamn if he murdered Jesus Himself and took a shit on the cross he carried. He’s still my fucking brother, you son of a bitch. I want his murderer dead, do you hear me? Do you want the job or not? It pays twenty-five thousand dollars. Half of it now, and the other half when he’s zipped up in a body bag,” Madam Valerie shouted in a murderous tone.
“I would, but it’s not conducive to my pension plan. So I’m good and will pass,” Goodhouse said, cowering in front of the madam.
“You’re useless. Get the fuck out before I really lose my temper with your pussy ass,” Valerie snarled, meaning every word she spat.
Throwing his hands up in defeat, he quickly backed out of her office, not wanting a problem. Keeping each step quiet, he ran to his vehicle. As soon as Detective Goodhouse slid in, he got tough again and sounded off to himself. “Fuck that cunt! I would put a case on her conniving ass if she didn’t have dirt on half of the top city officials.”
His hands were tied because she had his number as well. Goodhouse thought back to how he became Madam Valerie’s flunky in the first place. Drunk at a hole in the wall one night, he struck gold with a young woman and got off into some young pussy. Taking her to a short-stay she’d already rented, shorty was all about business from the first step through the door. She hit her knees, sucked him off ’til he quivered, and then fucked him ’til he busted back-to-back nuts.
Goodhouse’s dick got hard at the thought of ol’ girl, though it shouldn’t have. Her suburban sex game was the reason he and his wife of ten years divorced. After fucking li’l ma that night, Goodhouse didn’t go home to his wife. And, making matters worse, he found out the whole thing was a setup from the jump.
Shortly after the incident, a package with no return address arrived to him with pictures inside of it of him fucking the underage girl. He damn near pissed his pants. Having sex with a minor carried a heavy sentence and bad reputation that Goodhouse didn’t want to carry or own up to. Wrapped around the pictures was a note instructing him of when and where to meet the sender. Madam Valerie told him face to face that she’d expose his dirty secret if he refused to play by her rules.
Pounding his fist on the side of his head, disgusted and pissed, he headed toward the DPD headquarters trying to get a game face on. Madam Valerie had just pulled Detective Goodhouse’s ho card. She was straight. She had what she needed in her hand: the address of the man who had murdered her brother.
Staring at Bobby’s picture on the ID, she made a vow to herself and him to deal with the killer swiftly. Opening the top desk drawer, she removed a cell phone. Wanting to avoid ever getting caught up, she only used it when she needed to have some dirt done. And today was a good day to have some dirt done. Dialing the digits from memory, she hit call and tapped Bobby’s ID on the desk, waiting for the person’s voice she so desperately wanted to hear.
Hearing a few knocks on the door, Valerie looked up with agitation in her eyes at Kimmy barging into the room without being welcomed or okayed. As she kneeled down to pick up the small stack of papers and the few other things that were scattered on the floor from Valerie’s earlier tantrum, Valerie snapped on Kimmy as w
ell.
“Leave all of that and go. I don’t care to be bothered at the moment so come back later. Please,” Valerie ordered Kimmy, uncaring of how her attitude had come across.
“Yes, Madam, I’m sorry. Can I get anything for you?” Kimmy apologized and questioned sincerely.
“No, Kimmy. I’m fine. Now, please go,” Madam said, looking away with watery eyes.
Only coming into the room in the first place because she’d heard Madam and the detective having a disagreement, Kimmy had wanted to be nosey. She hadn’t been able to make out the argument word for word, but she knew something was going on that was serious. However, seeing that Valerie was highly agitated and emotional, Kimmy didn’t want to push the limit. Leaving the room without another word, she closed the door behind herself, then made sure the coast was clear for her to glue her ear up to the door.
Kimmy was Valerie’s number one girl. Not only did she bring in major money, but Kimmy was down for setting up dudes whenever asked to, no questions asked. The two of them met when Kimmy was seventeen and out turning tricks on the dangerous strip of Woodward Avenue. Madam Valerie showed Kimmy a safer way to get money, and put her up for sale to a better clientele. That was years ago. Kimmy was twenty-five now.
Kimmy had the looks and the body thirsty men paid top dollar to get a taste of. She was just the type Madam Valerie sponsored: the perfect prototype of a bad bitch willing to get down and dirty. She had grown fond of Kimmy because she could deal with any type of client, in any arena. Whether it was an athlete, a Wall Street worker, or a big business mogul, just to name a few, Kimmy could work their dick and the money from their wallets with ease. Madam Valerie had schooled all of her girls to be pros, but Kimmy had surpassed all of her expectations.
What the madam didn’t know, however, was that she had trained Kimmy all too well. When the moneymaker with no morals wasn’t busting it wide open for whatever bidder she was called to trick for, Kimmy kept her lips sealed and paid close attention to everything about the business that went on around her. While Madam Valerie thought she was manipulating Kimmy and getting rich off of her, Kimmy had figured out how to become more powerful than her teacher.
* * *
Rolling Earl was laid back in his pickup truck at Lakewood Park getting his dick voraciously sucked when his phone began to ring. The no-gag-reflex head he was getting from Lady Lips was so good that he chose to ignore the sound of his ringing phone. All he could focus on was Ms. LL’s lips sliding up and down his shaft.
Calling back to back, the more Rolling Earl’s phone continued to ring without an answer, the more infuriated Madame Valerie got. She hated not getting instant reactions from people. Tapping Bobby’s identification card harder and faster on her desktop, she mumbled obscene words underneath her breath, reaching a point of infuriation.
Praising and degrading LL at the same time, Rolling Earl gripped the top of her head to the point of his fingertips hurting. “Bless this slab of meat like it’s ordained by Jesus Himself. Only blessings can come to you from all walks of life with head this fucking good. You hear me, bitch?”
Rolling Earl was on the brink of one hell of a nut when his phone started sounding off again. Holding LL’s head still with one hand, he swooped his phone up and answered it, yelling at the caller not knowing who it was. His mind was too wrapped up in his dick sliding down shorty’s throat. “Whoever this is, don’t call my phone back for at least ten mo’ minutes. I’m trying to get this nut off.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.
Hearing Rolling Earl hang up on her, Madam Valerie held the phone in her hand in pure disbelief. Almost surprised, she had to remind herself of what type of thug she was dealing with, who was a lowlife who was out for himself with no home training, and disrespectful. He was a backstabbing snake who would dead his own mother for the right price. Yet and still, knowing where the bodies he’d killed were buried around Detroit, Madam Valerie had him under her thumb and she knew it.
Rolling Earl’s cell phone started dancing across the dashboard. Instead of LL being distracted, she started sucking to the tune, putting on a super head show. Rolling Earl was mesmerized. With his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his body shaking, LL hummed on his hardness and made him lose his cool. Her skills were so off the chart that Rolling Earl couldn’t hold back a second longer, and he finally busted the nut he so desperately needed and wanted. It wasn’t until LL licked and swallowed every drop of his thick white cream did he put his dick back in his drawers, pull up his pants, and tend to his hotbox phone.
“Yeah, damn. Obviously you’ve got a problem with following fuckin’ directions, but fuck it. How can I fucking help you?” He spoke recklessly into the phone, again not caring who was on the receiving end.
“That’s why you stay broke. You can’t keep yo’ dick in your fucking pants, you two-bit, wannabe-ass pimp.” She laughed sarcastically. “Money calling you, but you’d rather get a blow job by a ho who couldn’t pay your cell phone bill if she strolled the strip day and night. I guess you don’t need this work,” Madam Valerie fussed and grunted.
Rolling Earl recognized Valerie’s voice as soon as the first syllable escaped her mouth. He knew how she got down and he knew a big payday was in his reach if she was calling on him to put in work. He got right to the point. “How much does it pay?”
“Twenty-five grand. Half now, and the other half when the job is done. How do you want your money? In small bills or all hundreds?” She spoke with confidence, knowing he wouldn’t turn the offer down.
“You already know how I like mines. In small bills and in a brown paper bag.” He agreed to the deal, already making plans for the cash. Rolling Earl had it bad for clothes, hoes, and powder cocaine for his nose.
Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he dismissed LL from his car, whispering he’d hit her up later. Rolling Earl might have been reckless, but he wasn’t about to talk money in front of a trick. As soon as she was out of his ride, he tuned back into the conversation with Madam Valerie.
“Tomorrow, be at my house at noon,” she told Rolling Earl with ice in her voice.
“I’ll be there. Be sure to have my money on deck,” Rolling Earl snapped into the phone.
Madam Valerie hung up the phone disrespectfully before he could get another word in.
Rolling Earl laughed when he heard the phone line go dead, knowing he’d hit a nerve when he demanded that she have his money ready. Valerie wasn’t the type of woman who liked to be nor took kindly to being bossed around.
* * *
Noon the next day, he sat across from Valerie in her home office, listening to her run down the job she needed him to carry out. On the other side of her home office door was Kimmy, ear hustling once again.
“Who’s the mark?” Rolling Earl asked, ready to make the luck of whoever it was go bad real fast.
Handing him an envelope containing half of $25,000, she then stared hard into his eyes without blinking and responded, “I’ll tell you like I always do. Don’t fuck me over. Don’t play with my money, Earl.”
Rolling Earl stared right back into her eyes, not feeling the least bit intimidated. In fact, he felt the urge to pull his trusty 9 mm out of his waistband and plaster her brains all over the wall. The idea lingered on his mind for a few seconds when he thought about how much money he’d probably find stashed. No high-class ho of his knowledge regularly made bank deposits. “Save all that tough-titty bullshit for the next nigga, lady. You’re paying me for a job to be done. The job gon’ be done,” he said, looking at Bobby’s ID card. Without another word, he abruptly ended the meeting and went to exit the room.
Madam Valerie burned a hole in the back of his head as he walked away toward the door. As soon as he hit the door and turned right, he ran right into Kimmy, almost knocking her down to the floor. She’d been slipping on her pimping and moving too slow.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going,” Rolling Earl barked, glaring down at the five foot tall and visi
bly shaken Kimmy. As he kept walking, he looked back at her with disdain.
Kimmy apologized repeatedly as her heart raced uncontrollably. She knew he wasn’t up for no games. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him at the house. Whenever he came up, whoever Madam Valerie had problems with came up dead or missing. So she didn’t want no part of Rolling Earl.
CHAPTER SIX
Three weeks had passed and Rolling Earl had finally caught up with Bobby in the wrong place at the right time. Bobby had been going about his life like he was a normal young nigga about to go off to Job Corps. He and Rissa had become inseparable. She had even moved in with him and his mother. It was agreed that she would help Bobby’s mom out with bills and the house until he was done learning a trade in welding at Job Corps. They were beyond happy and vowed to get married as soon as they could. But today, their whole lives changed unexpectedly.
After watching Bobby for weeks off and on, Rolling Earl was finally confident enough to make his move. And, besides all that, it was time for him to kill and collect his cash. Having already spent a few thousand of the initial half, he was itching to dead Bobby to collect the rest of his payout. Once, he had followed Bobby from a pickup basketball game at the YMCA to the gas station. He was even brazen enough to ask Bobby for a light for his blunt. At one point, Rolling Earl was seconds from taking him out of the game, but a carful of Bobby’s boys pulled up on him with that young nigga rah-rah shit, drawing attention. The assassin was forced to pull back that day; but the perfect time had finally presented itself.
Today, Bobby was going off to Job Corps. He and Rissa were ecstatic for the change and the opportunity. Even Bobby’s mother was overjoyed. Cooking him a feast featuring all of his favorite dishes, Bobby was able to invite all of his friends and family over for one big shindig. Everyone showed up and out, including Wanda and Chad. They ate like kings, celebrated Bobby’s new journey, and wished him well every second until they all parted ways.
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