Killing Them Softly

by Glenn, Roy

  "You ready?"

  "No," she said. "I need you to help me with something." While I was upstairs, she had gone through the house and had a pile of stuff sittin’ by the door. In addition to lamps and paintings, there was a microwave, a nice espresso machine, a Bose acoustic wave music system, a MAC computer, and a couple of nineteen-inch TVs. "I need your help with the big screen," Cutie said, and stood up.

  "How we gonna get all this shit outta here without being seen?"

  "The garage is behind that door. We could back the Jeep in the garage and load up."

  "Won’t the light attract attention?"

  "Ain’t no lights on in any of the houses I can see from here. And just to be sure, I already unscrewed the bulb for the garage door, so it don’t go on and stay on."

  "Smart girl," I said, and kissed her.

  We went and got the big screen, and then she went for the Jeep. After we had it loaded, Cutie got in and drove out of there. I closed the garage door and left the house the way I came in.

  As much shit as I talk, I was glad it was done.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Devin

  When it came time for me to make my phone call, I called the house. If Qianna didn’t do it, Taye would be up by now. The phone rang, and eventually went to voice mail. The next person I called was Winston. "Hello."

  "Winston, it’s Devin. Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I need a big favor." After I explained where I was and how I got there, Winston said he would call around and get me a bail bondsman. "Don’t worry, Devin. I’ll have you out of there in no time," Winston promised. By lunchtime, we were walking out of the jail toward his car.

  "Thanks for putting that together for me. I really appreciate it."

  "You don’t have to thank me, Devin. Just be there for me next time I get drunk."

  "What did you tell them at the office?"

  "The truth."

  "What?"

  "I told them the truth. I told them that you and Taye have been having problems, and you went out and got drunk. You had a fight at a bar, and when the police came, you fought with them too, so they locked you up."

  "Couldn’t you come up with anything better than that?"

  "I could have," he said as we got in his car. "But they were gonna find out the truth sooner or later, anyway. Better they hear the truth from me now, than for you to have to explain the lie later."

  "I guess you’re right. Who you tell?"

  "McNamara."

  "Good choice."

  "Thank you."

  "What Mac say?"

  "He laughed and said he’d see both of us tomorrow. So I thank you for the day off."

  "Not a problem. Glad I could help you out."

  "So where’s your car?"

  "Just take me home," I said, knowing that I wanted him to come in with me, and at least be in the house when I found the body. "I’ll get my car later. Right now I just wanna go home and take a shower."

  "I hear you, dude. Home it is."

  When we pulled up in front of the house, I asked Winston to come in with me to have a drink.

  He laughed. "No thank you. First of all, you don’t need anything else to drink for a good while and two, you just want me in there to lessen the drama you’re gonna get from staying out all night."

  "I didn’t stay out all night. I was locked up in jail all night. There’s a difference."

  "I used to be married. Out is out. But since I did bail you out, all I can do is to verify that I arranged bail, and then I’m out."

  "Good enough," I said quickly. "Come on."

  We went in the house and the first thing I noticed was that my 42-inch wide screen was gone. For some reason, I knew Qianna wouldn’t be satisfied with just the jewelry.

  "Something’s not right," I said, and walked in the living room.

  "What?"

  "TV is gone," I said. "Taye, Taye. Are you here?"

  I went to the garage and looked in. "Her car is still here." I began wandering around the house. "Taye, Taye!"

  I stuck my head in the office and saw that she had taken my MAC and my Bose entertainment system. "I think we’ve been robbed."

  Winston began looking around, and joined me in calling her name. "Taye, Taye!" he yelled, as I walked quickly up the steps with Winston on my heels.

  I burst into the bedroom and looked at the bed. I dropped to my knees when I saw her tied to the bed in a pool of blood.

  It was one thing to talk about it, plan it, but seeing her there like that, was still hard for me to take.

  Winston pulled me up by my shoulders and dragged me out of the room. We walked downstairs to the kitchen, and he literally put me in a chair. My mind was racing while he picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  "I’d like to report a murder and a robbery," I heard Winston say, but it still didn’t seem real to me. Qianna had really done it.

  She killed Taye.

  I got up and went outside, trying to push the image of her lying on the bed with her throat cut, out of my mind.

  I made it as far as the driveway before I threw up what seemed like, every ounce of liquor that I had drank the night before.

  I was still sitting outside when the police got there. Since I couldn’t go back inside the house, Winston took the police inside and showed them where the body was. I sat there dumbfounded, wondering why I felt so bad about it now. Wasn’t this what I wanted?

  It was.

  But I still couldn’t move.

  Maybe I was just worried about getting caught, and that’s what had me feeling this way. I couldn’t hide from the fact that no matter what I had done, there was still a part of me that recognized that I once loved Taye very much. And now I had killed her. So maybe what I was feeling was guilt and disgust with myself.

  After a while, I don’t know how long it had been, one of the detectives started coming toward me. Along the way he stopped to talk to another cop.

  "You think he did it?" the cop asked.

  "Not unless he could be in two places at the same time. I verified that he was in jail at the TOD," I heard the detective say. Then he approached me.

  "Mr. James. My name is Detective Clinton. I am truly sorry for your loss. I know this isn’t the best time, but I need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?"

  I looked up at him and nodded my head.

  "Your friend said that before you found the body, that you noticed that some things were missing?"

  I nodded my head again.

  "Can you tell me what is missing?"

  "TV, computer, stereo, I don’t know what else. I really didn’t—I just went upstairs and I found her like that," I said, and buried my head in my hands.

  "Okay, Mr. James. We can do this another time." He handed me his card. "Why don’t you give me a call in a day or two."

  I nodded my head and he walked away. When I looked up again, Winston was standing in front of me. "Come on, buddy, no need for you to hang around here."

  "Right."

  Winston held out his hand to help me up. "Can I take you somewhere? You’re welcome to stay with me if you want."

  "No, Winston. Thanks. Just take me to a hotel. I’ll be all right." As we were walking toward his car, I stopped and looked back at the house, and thought one more time about what I had done. I got in the car and a sense of relief washed over me.

  All I had to do now was get away with it.

  I waited a couple of days before I called Detective Clinton back. He asked me to meet him at the house, so I could tell him what was taken. I agreed, and two hours later, we standing outside of the house, and he was going over the list of things Qianna had stolen. When we were done, he asked if I would come to the station and answer some questions for him.

  When we got there, he sat me down in an office instead of the interrogation room, which to me meant that I still wasn’t a suspect. But I didn’t relax. I understood fully that how I answered his questions would impact my status.
One suspicious answer and that all could change quickly.

  Detective Clinton came back in the room with another man who he introduced as Detective Minter. After he apologized again for my loss, he got to his work.

  "I know that you were arrested for disorderly conduct that night," Minter began. "So let’s start there. Why don’t you tell me what happened that night?"

  "I left the house about ten, ten-thirty maybe, and I went to The Sport Spot and had a few too many drinks."

  "Do you usually go out drinking like that at night, or did something happen at home?" Clinton asked.

  "What he’s askin’ is; how were things with you and your wife?" Minter asked bluntly.

  "Not that good. My wife had had two miscarriages, and after the last one, she went into a manic depression," I began slowly. "Recently, she had stopped going to treatment and refused to take her medication, so her depression was getting worse."

  "Why’d she stop?" Minter asked.

  "She didn’t like the way they made her feel."

  "How was that?" Clinton needed to know.

  "She said they made her feel weak and slow. She said it was hard for her to concentrate, like she couldn’t focus on anything without getting confused."

  "Go on, Mr. James, what happened that night?" Minter asked.

  "I tried to talk to her about getting back into treatment with a new doctor, that maybe they could find something that could help her, and not make her feel that way."

  "What did she say?"

  "Nothing. Unless she needed to speak to me, she didn’t."

  "That must’ve been hard on you?" Clinton followed.

  I didn’t answer him. I just dropped my head and shook it.

  "When was the last time you had sex with your wife, Mr. James?" Minter asked.

  I didn’t answer him either, but I looked him in the eyes.

  "I know it’s a very personal question, and I wouldn’t ask unless it was important."

  "I don’t understand why, but—" I paused. "I can’t tell you exactly, but I can tell you it’s been a long time."

  "A week? A month?" Clinton asked.

  "It’s been over a year now, detective."

  "I see," he said.

  "What happened after you tried to talk to her about treatment, Mr. James?" Minter asked.

  "I went to The Sport Spot, I woke up in jail, I came home and Winston and I found her body." I dropped my head again. "You have any idea who did this?" I asked him.

  "As near as we can tell, this was a robbery that went way wrong. There are signs of forced entry at the back door. The robbers came in through there, found your wife home alone."

  "She takes sleeping pills at night, so she wouldn’t have heard them come in."

  "Yes, we found the pills by the bed," Detective Clinton said, and then he paused. "Mr. James, your wife was raped before she was murdered."

  "I figured that when I saw her tied up that way," I said, and looked away.

  "The good news is that we were able to get a sperm sample," Clinton said.

  "What?" I interrupted quickly. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"

  "Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it that way, Mr. James. I mean the part about good news, I mean. There is nothing good about any of this. What I said was that we were able to get a sperm sample, and we’re running that DNA against our database. Hopefully, we’ll find a match."

  The detectives only had a few more questions for me before they let me go. They did ask me if I would mind giving them a sample of my DNA to help with the investigation. I took that to mean to eliminate me as a suspect. "That’s no problem. Anything I can do it help you catch the guy." I was glad to be getting out of there.

  I drove away mad as hell with Qianna, and wondered if I hadn’t made a mistake by getting her to kill Taye. I paid her to kill her. I didn’t say anything about bringing some guy along to rape her before they killed her. I thought about not paying her, but that would be the worse thing I could do. Just give Qianna what we agreed on, and be done with her.

  How could she be that damn stupid? If they found a DNA match to the sperm sample they had, and they caught the guy, he could turn on her. And I was sure if it came down to it that Qianna would give me up, and testify that I’d paid her to kill Taye.

  So the real question was: How could I be so stupid?

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Avonte

  I guess I’ve always been attracted to girls. I remember having a crush on this girl in the third grade. Back then, I didn’t even know what a lesbian was. When I became a teenager and became aware of my sexual feelings, I was physically attracted to men, but I was turned on by women, too. When me and my friends were checking out the guys, I found myself checking out women too.

  After my relationship with Amy began, I felt confused and unsure about whether or not I was a lesbian. I felt confused because I was still attracted to both men and women. When Amy didn’t come back to school sophomore year, I started dating Tyrone, and I thought that it was just a phase I was going through, and that’s all it was. But I still had those feelings. I just figured it was natural for me because of my involvement with Amy, and never gave in to those feelings. It was easy for the most part, because I never found myself in a situation where I was forced to confront those desires—until I met Qianna.

  She finally called me on Friday afternoon with some excuse about leaving her cell in a friend’s car, and not being able to get in touch with them to get it back until just that moment.

  Whatever.

  What does that have to do with her calling me?

  Absolutely nothing. But I truly didn’t care as long as she said she was on her way. I didn’t care where she’d been for those two days. She showed up here on Friday night, and she gave this junkie her fix.

  Everything was right with the world until that Monday morning, after Qianna left. On the first Monday of every month at ten o’clock, a courier comes by to drop off my money from Tyrone. Ten o’clock came, no courier. I tried not to panic though. My first thought was that it was some kind of Jewish holiday I knew nothing about, and I would have my money the next day.

  No biggie; it wasn’t like I was pressed for the money. When Qianna came back later that afternoon, we went out to dinner, did some shopping, and then we caught a movie. After which, we went back to my place and she ravaged my body, in ways I can’t even describe.

  After she finished me off, Qianna got out of bed and went in the bathroom. Before long, I heard the water running for the shower. I got up and went in the bathroom, just as she stepped in the shower. Qianna pushed the door open, and I accepted her invitation. I felt her tender lips touch mine. Nibbling softly at first; then she got rough with it, tugging on my bottom lip and holding it between hers. She grabbed my breasts and squeezed them. She used her tongue to lick around my nipples. It was driving me crazy and my juices started flowing. As Qianna bit at my nipples, she used her fingers to stroke and caress my clit. "This feels so fuckin’ good!"

  It didn’t take long before she was kneeling down between my legs. "You taste so damn good," she pulled back to say, as she gazed into my eyes as the water rained down on her head. I spread my legs wider and she parted my lips. Her tongue flickered back and forth across my button. When I got her just where I wanted her; "Oh shit!" I screamed.

  By Tuesday afternoon I was tired of waiting, so I called Albert Weinstein, Tyrone’s lawyer, to see what was going on. His secretary advised me that Weinstein was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed, but she would give him the message and have him call me. When I asked her about the money, she said she didn’t know anything about it, and I would have to wait and speak with Weinstein about the matter.

  Lying bitch.

  Don’t shit go on in that office that she doesn’t know about. But instead of calling her on it, I said in my most lady-like tone, "Okay, well, thank you. I’ll just wait to hear from Mr. Weinstein."

  It was late on Wednesday afternoon before Weinste
in finally called me back. "Good afternoon, Avonte. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you."

  "It’s all right, Mr. Weinstein. Thank you for getting back to me."

  "What can I do for you, my dear?"

  "Well," I said, and took a deep breath. "It’s the first of the month, and I haven’t received my check from Tyrone yet."

  There was silence for a second or two before Weinstein spoke, and when he did, all he said was, "I see."

  I waited to see if he was going to saying anything more. When he didn’t, I did. "I was wondering if you could tell me why I haven’t received it yet."

  Once again, there was silence for a second or two before Weinstein answered me. "The simple answer, my dear, is that Tyrone asked me not to make anymore maintenance payments to you, until he advised me otherwise."

  "What did you say?" I asked, even though I heard what he said, and was just having problems believing what he said was what I heard.

  "Tyrone was in the office two weeks ago, and he instructed me to discontinue making maintenance payments to you until he gave me instructions to the contrary."

  Even though I had heard him say it twice, I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "I understand," I forced out, but I didn’t. "Did he give you a reason?"

  "I’m sorry, my dear, he didn’t."

  "Did you ask him?"

  "Yes, of course I did."

  "Would you mind sharing what his reason was?"

  "When I asked him why he was taking this action, he said that he had his reasons, and he would speak with you about it. That’s why I was somewhat surprised when you asked that question. I had assumed that by now he would have spoken with you. As I said, it was two weeks ago."

  "No, Mr. Weinstein, I haven’t spoken with Tyrone in months."

  "I’m sorry I can’t be of anymore help than that, my dear. Perhaps it would be prudent of you to speak with Tyrone."

  "I guess I have no choice if I want to know what’s going on, do I?"