by Glenn, Roy
When Detective Jensen pulled back the cover, I looked at Tyrone. All the color was gone from his face. I looked away and shook my head. "Thank you, Mrs. Petrocelli," Jensen said, and pulled the cover back over his face.
Thinking that we were done, I started to walk away, but Jensen stopped me. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Petrocelli." Jensen turned to the table next to the one Tyrone was on. "But would you mind taking a look at this body?"
Jensen pulled back the cover and I looked at the woman on the table. She was a white woman with long blonde hair. At first, I thought it could be the bitch he left me for, so I took a closer look. "Do you know her?"
"No," I said, and looked again. "I’ve never seen her before."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never seen her before."
"Thank you." Jensen covered the woman’s body and asked me if I would mind coming with her. "I have a few questions that I’d like to ask you."
When we got to her office she offered me a seat. "Once again, Mrs. Petrocelli, I’m sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," I said, more because I didn’t know what else to say. "Could you tell me what happened?"
Jensen opened her notes. "Your husband’s housekeeper, a Carmen Wilson, found the body when she came to work this morning. He had been stabbed in the chest with a kitchen knife." Jensen pushed a picture of the body in front of me. Tyrone was lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. The knife was still lodged in his chest.
"You and your husband are separated, is that correct?"
"Yes, that’s right."
"And you maintain a separate residence in Manhattan, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"About eight months now."
"Your idea; his idea?"
"His. My husband began seeing another woman and told me he was filing for divorce. I moved out after that."
"How were things between the two of you since then?"
"We really hadn’t spoken much since then. For the most part, we communicate through our lawyers."
"I know that must have been tough on you."
"It was. You don’t know what hurt is until you come home and find another woman in your house."
"I read the report."
"You did?"
"Yes." Jensen flipped a few more pages. "She thought you broke in, and called the police on you. She must have looked pretty foolish when the officers told her that you were his wife, and she had to leave."
I laughed a little when I thought about it. "She did look pretty stupid."
"It says here that you hit her."
"To be honest with you, I knew who she was, and I knew I wouldn’t get another chance, so I tried to slap the taste out of her mouth."
Jensen laughed. "I wish I could have done that to the bitch my prick husband left me for."
"Every woman’s dream."
"And you say that was eight months ago. When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Petrocelli?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"What did you talk about?"
It was only when she asked me that question, and I thought about the fact that we argued because he had cut me off from the money, did I realize that I could be a suspect in his murder. "We talked about the divorce," I said, without going into any more detail.
"How’s that going?"
"The divorce?"
"Yes."
"The lawyers were working out the details."
"But you did talk to him yesterday. Did you see him?"
"No, we spoke by phone."
"So you didn’t go to the house?"
"No. I haven’t gone there since that day I caught her there and I moved out."
"You mind telling me where you were last night about eleven-thirty?"
"I was at home."
"Were you alone?"
"Yes."
"Can anybody verify that?"
"No, not really."
"What were you doing?"
"I was on the phone talking to my Mom and Dad most of the night, and then I went to bed."
"What time was that?"
"That I went to bed; or that I was talking to my parents?"
"Both."
"I called them about nine, and we talked for a couple of hours, I guess. Then I went to bed."
"About what time was that?"
"It was some time after eleven. Am I a suspect, detective?"
"To be honest with you, Mrs. Petrocelli," Jensen said, and then she paused. "I’m just trying to rule you out."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Of course we’re still investigating, but we think your husband’s murder was a crime of passion."
"What do you mean by that?"
"When the body was discovered by the housekeeper, Mr. Petrocelli was naked on the kitchen floor. The woman I asked you if you knew . . ."
"Yes."
"She was naked too. The housekeeper found her in the living room with her throat cut."
"Oh my God."
"We think that the killer came in and found them having sex, and killed them both."
"And you think I did that?"
"Like I said, Mrs. Petrocelli, I’m just asking questions; trying to eliminate you as a suspect. About the woman I asked if you could identify."
"Yes."
"Was that the woman you saw that day at your house?"
"No, it wasn’t."
"Are you sure? I only ask because of the way you were looking at her."
"At first, I wondered if it was. I had only seen her the one time, so I took a second look to be sure that it wasn’t her."
"And you’re sure?"
"Yes, detective, I’m sure. What happens now?"
"Well, right now, I’m going to check out your story. If what you told me is the truth, that you were home last night and on the phone, you’ll be free to go."
"I understand. I assure you, detective; I had nothing to do with any of this."
Jensen pushed a pen and paper at me. "Would you mind writing down your parent’s names, and their number for me?"
I wrote down the information she requested, and handed it back to her. "I promise it won’t take long to verify what you told me," she said, and left me alone in her office. Left me thinking who could have done this to Tyrone, and hoping that it wouldn’t touch me.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-eight
Qianna
Okay, things didn’t go like I planned with Avonte’s husband. I swear ’fore God that I didn’t plan on killing him. The only thing I wanted to do was make shit even. It wasn’t right for him to be fuckin’ around on Avonte, but when she does the same shit, he cuts her off from the money. That shit ain’t right.
So, my plan was simple. After Avonte told me where he wanted her to meet him, I went out there. Avonte had shown me a picture of him, so I knew him as soon as I saw him. When I got there, he was standing at the bar, talking with some little blonde cutie. I watched them for a while, thinking about how I was gonna get to him, when she pulled out a cigarette. I got up from my spot and followed her outside.
"Can I get a light from you?" I asked.
"No problem. We smokers have got to stick together, you know," she said, and handed me her lighter. "Pretty soon they’ll be telling us that we can’t even smoke in our own houses."
"I know that’s right." I took a drag off my cigarette, and gave her back her lighter. "That’s how the system works, honey. Government got to be in control of every part of your life."
We talked while we smoked our cigarettes. Funny how smokers can always find something to talk about. "I’m Iris," I lied and smiled.
"Laurie. Nice to meet you, Iris."
"That’s a very nice outline you have on," I said, even though it wasn’t. The shit looked like she bought it at Kmart.
"Thank you," Laurie said, and smiled.
"It suits you. You’re very pretty too," I said, and Laurie blushed. By the time we finished our cigarettes a
nd went back inside, Laurie and me were like the best of friends. It always has cracked me up how some bitches will tell a complete stranger all their business over a cigarette. Laurie was one of them bitches.
Laurie told me she was from Kansas. "I had to get away from Jeff; that was my boyfriend. He was one crazy mother fucker." She told me how her boyfriend used to beat her, and about her drug and alcohol issues. "I got it under control now. But for a while there, I thought I was gonna die." And then she told me that her tits were fake. She even let me feel them. "Go ahead, I don’t mind." Them shits was hard as rocks.
"Go ahead, feel mine. I don’t mind," I said. Laurie giggled, but it didn’t take long before she was smiling and squeezing.
When we got back inside, we went to the bar to join Tyrone at the bar. Laurie introduced us. "Tyrone, this is my friend Iris."
Judging by the way that his eyes bulged out of his head when he turned and looked at me, I knew I could get him to go with me.
The only question now was whether I was going to bring Laurie along for the fun.
Tyrone ordered a round of drinks, and the three of us talked. I told them that I was there to meet somebody, but they hadn’t gotten there yet. But I made it obvious that I was down for whatever.
After a lot of me flirting with the two of them, plenty of sexual innuendo and three more drinks, Tyrone and Laurie were ready to go and take their thing to the next level. "We’re gonna head to my place, keep this party going. Why don’t you come with us?"
"What’s happenin’ at your place?" I asked innocently.
Tyrone leaned closer. "Have some drinks, do a few lines," he said in my ear. "Then, you know, whatever."
I looked at Laurie and then back to Tyrone. "Yeah, whatever sounds good," I told them, and we left the bar.
It didn’t take long to get to the house. When we pulled up in front of the house, I was shocked by how fuckin’ big the place was. Tyrone was ballin’ for real. I see why Avonte was trippin’ about losin’ this money.
Shit, I see why I was trippin’.
All it took was a glass of wine and a few of lines of coke, before Laurie came outta her Kmart dress and was paradin’ around in her pumps and panties.
When Tyrone took off his clothes, and they both started encouraging me to get comfortable, I knew it was time for the next part of my plan. I was gonna get this whole set on camera.
Me and Avonte were out shoppin’ one day, Avonte loves to shop, but that day I told her that I wanted to get a digital camera so I could take pictures of her. Maybe even make a movie of us fuckin’. So Avonte bought me a Sony Cybershot 10 megapixel digital camera.
I got up and looked around the room for a good spot to setup the camera. There was a credenza over by the staircase that was the perfect height, and wasn’t too far away. While I got naked I set the camera on the table, and put my clothes around it for cover.
"What are you doing over there?" Tyrone asked and started coming toward me.
"Nothin’. Just gettin’ comfortable."
"What’s that you got there?" He pushed me out of the way and knocked the clothes off the camera. It didn’t take him long to figure out what the camera was for.
Tyrone grabbed me and demanded to know who I was, and who sent me. "Avonte sent you, didn’t she? You’re the bitch she’s fucking, aren’t you?" he started shaking me.
"I don’t know who you talkin’ ’bout! Take your mutha fuckin’ hands off me!" I yelled, and tried to get free.
"Who sent you?"
Tyrone reached back and slapped the fuck outta me. He hit me so hard that I fell to the floor. I got up and tried to run, but he grabbed me and hit me again. I swung at him and scratched his face. "You fucking bitch."
Tyrone came at me and I ran. While Tyrone chased me around the living room, that bitch Laurie, sipped her drink and did another line.
I ran into the kitchen looking for something to throw at him. I picked up the bottle of wine we were drinking, and threw it at him, but I missed and he kept comin’. Then I threw a frying pan at him, but he ducked. The only thing that saved me was that he was off balance when he did that. He slipped on the wine and hit the floor hard.
I grabbed a knife from the counter and dove on top of him. I pushed the knife into his chest as hard as I could. "I got your bitch."
I went back into the living room. Laurie was still powdering her nose, like nothin’ else was goin’ on around her. I went to the credenza and got my knife from my purse.
"Where’s Tyrone?" Laurie asked when she finally looked up.
"He’s on the floor in the kitchen," I said, and walked around behind her.
"What’s he doing on the floor?" her dumb-ass asked, and laughed a little.
"Waitin’ for you." I grabbed a handful of her hair, and slid my blade across her throat.
I got dressed as fast as I could, and looked around the house to see if I could find whatever he had on Avonte. I found what I was looking for on the desk in his office.
It was in a large manila envelope, and it had a lot of pictures of Avonte with me, and then there were two shots of her and Devin having dinner at some restaurant. There was also a written report of the places that Avonte and I had gone together, and the same for Devin.
Whoever made this report knew everything about Devin, but they didn’t know much about me, other than my first name. All they had on me was bad pictures of us eating, shopping, and getting in and out of her car. I took the envelope and got outta there.
Then I wiped down everything that I thought I might have touched. Then I thought about the bottle of wine I threw at Tyrone. If the cops got even a partial print off a piece of that broken glass, I’d be fucked. I went in the kitchen and picked up every piece I could find, and then got a broom to sweep up.
I left there walking, and called a cab to pick me up at the first place I got to. From there, I got a room at a motel and laid low for a couple of days; and hoped I had dodged another bid.
After a couple of days in that room, I was gettin’ bored and lonely. I needed to get out, see some people, maybe even get some dick.
And if I was gonna try and get some dick, I might as well try to get with Devin. I knew if I called him, he would probably hang up on me. So, I caught a cab and went to a bar that wasn’t too far from where he worked, to see if he was there.
When I got there, the first person I saw was Devin. He was at a table close to the bar talking to some white guy. I had started walking toward them when I got the feeling that I knew the white boy he was with. I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that he was the white boy that I saw that night, coming out of Devin’s house.
I couldn’t be sure if he saw me and Cutie that night, and I was in no mood to find out. The last thing I needed was for him to recognize me. I started to go to the bar, but when I turned to walk away, I heard Devin call me.
"Shit."
I turned around and Devin was waving me over to their table.
"Shit," I mumbled, and went to the table.
Both men stood up when I got to the table. "What are you doing here, Qianna?"
"Maybe I was lookin’ for you."
"Winston, this is my friend Qianna," Devin said, and I waved to him.
"Nice to meet you, Qianna," Winston said, and we all sat down. It didn’t seem like the white boy recognized me. I wondered if Devin even suspected that this boy was fuckin’ his wife.
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Devin?"
"Sure. I was just getting ready get out of here anyway. Winston, I’ll see you in the morning."
"Not if I see you first," Winston said, and laughed. Neither me nor Devin got the joke, and we walked away.
Once we were far enough from the table, I turned to Devin. "You remember I told you that I saw a white boy comin’ out of your house that night?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"That’s him."
"Winston? Are you sure?"
"Does he drive a sweet dark blue Benz?"
De
vin looked at me. "He does."
"Then I’m sure that’s the same guy."
"Damn. He always did have a thing for Taye. I can’t believe he was fuckin’ her." Devin started to go back to the table, but I stopped him.
"Where you goin’?"
"Where you think I’m goin’?"
"No, there’s a better way to deal with him."
"How’s that?"
"He was fuckin’ her, right?"
"Right."
"Cops told you they had DNA and were lookin’ to find a match, right?"
"Yeah, you’re right, they do."
"You go on and get outta here. I’ll make sure he’s our guy."
I stood and watched Devin until he left the bar, before I went and joined Winston at the table. "Hi."
"Welcome back," he said, and looked surprised when I sat down next to him. "I thought since you came here looking for Devin, that you were leaving too."
"No, I’m lookin’ for somebody to play with me." I ran my hand slowly across his face. "You wanna play with me?"
"Yes," Winston said quickly, and started trying to flag down his waitress to get the check. "I don’t live too far from here."
While he waited for his waitress, I told him that I was going to the ladies room, and that I would meet him outside.
When he came out, we went to his car and he drove me to his apartment. The minute we made it to the bedroom, this mutha fucka was all over me. I pushed him off of me and he fell on the bed. He sat there quietly with a big smile on his face, while I took off my clothes. "Now stand up," I demanded, and he did what I asked. "Take off your clothes."
* * *
Chapter Twenty-nine
Winston
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I started pulling off clothes so fast that she started laughing. She could laugh all she wanted, as long as she gave me some of that pussy. Qianna was fine as hell. I would have to thank Devin for this one in the morning.
Fact of the matter was that I owed Devin for more than just walking away and leaving me with Qianna, but for being such an asshole and leaving Taye at home alone every night.
