Ghetto Girls 3

by Anthony Whyte

  “Hey man, be easy now. You can’t be just going around making racial slurs…” Hall cautioned.

  “I could give a rat’s ass about race. We are here to catch criminals.”

  “But she’s not a criminal,” Hall said trying to no avail to step between his partner and Coco.

  Kowalski was so close to Coco that the spatter of his saliva sprinkled her face. She turned to wipe it off.

  “I’m going to prove that you’re nothing but a liar Coco. You break the damn law, you smoke your weed, drink your alcohol, you think that is so cool. You and your friends were probably coming back here to smoke this,” he said holding a bag of weed close to her surprised face. “Someone lost the bag when a fight broke out. I am here investigating a crime and found a bag laying in plain view inside your apartment. Marijuana is illegal. Your ass is grass, Coco. I’m gonna be that lawnmower and cut you down.”

  Coco glanced at it and smirked. It was a dub sack, the type she never bought. This incident made her remember the social workers; they had found another bag of weed a couple weeks ago.

  “If your jail-bait-ass does not come clean right here and now, the sounds you’re gonna hear is cling-cling on your way down to the poky.” Kowalski roared as if he had won.

  Coco shook her head. She opened her mouth but nothing came. In the back of her mind, she could hear her mother’s voice screaming: ‘You were smoking weed in my apartment? ’

  “What other lies do you have for us, Coco?”

  “That isn’t mine,” she said trying to convince herself more so than the detectives. “You both know that it’s not. You did not smell any marijuana in here. What’re you trying to do?” Coco screamed. “You’re trying to frame me for sump’n I ain’t do. I never fired no gun. I don’t even own a gun. Why y’all don’t go harass the person who fired the gun? And stop tryin’ to plant weed on me.”

  “What’s her name, Coco?” Kowalski asked hypnotically shaking the bag side to side in Coco’s face.

  “I don’t know. Why you fuckin’ with me? I ain’t no rat. I ain’t gonna be snitching out anyone I don’t know.”

  “Oh well, lil’ sis it’s gonna be your behind. There won’t be a lot that I can do to stop this racist cop from arresting you and sending you to jail for a long time.” Hall said.

  “She’s wasting my time. Let’s go!” Kowalski said gruffly shaking his handcuffs. He approached Coco with his handcuffs undone.

  “You can’t arrest me! Why you gonna?” Coco was outraged.

  “Because we represent the law and you’ve broken it, Coco. You’re under arrest for possession of marijuana,” Kowalski said. Coco shoved him when he tried to put the handcuffs on her wrists. “Now you’re resisting arrest. I’ll gladly add that to your charges.”

  “Coco, don’t make things any worse,” Hall stated.

  “Bitch, put your hands behind you,” Kowalski ordered. “Do you have anything in your pockets that is gonna stab me, any pointed objects or a knife?” He yelled slapping the handcuffs onto Coco’s wrists.

  She was on the floor with Kowalski’s knees on her neck.

  “Ugh… No,” Coco said barely audible. Suddenly she felt Hall hands rifling through the pockets of her jeans. Coco bit her lips and tears welled in her eyes as she allowed him to frisk her. She shifted her hands and felt the handcuffs tightened on her wrists when Kowalski jerked her to her feet.

  “Let’s go. This bag of weed is going to send your black ass directly to jail,” Kowalski growled. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may and will be used against you…”

  Coco tried to erase the words from her mind. She walked in front, her head low as the detectives led her through the hallway and out of the building.

  “Coco, please watch your head.” Hall ordered as he neatly stuffed Coco in the back seat of the black Caprice.

  “All aboard!” Kowalski humorously announced from the driver’s seat. “Here’s your free ride to jail, bitch.” Kowalski laughed.

  “Take it easy you crazy cop!” Hall said to Kowalski.

  FIVE

  That evening in the recreation area of the correctional facility, Lil’ Long was one of the many onlookers watching a game of chess between Ernesto and one of his muscled Russian comrades. They were all from Eastern Europe and all had flying dragons tattooed on their huge chests. Sensing that they were waiting to cheer for the big Russian, Lil’ Long chuckled when Nesto fell to a simple but well executed move by the Russian champ.

  “Ah, it’s this Russian blood I tell you Nesto. I cannot be defeated,” the Russian laughed and hugged Ernesto. “That’s about two cartons of Marlboro, my boy.”

  “I got next,” Lil’ Long shouted. The Russian looked up, smiled and with a wave of his muscular arm welcomed Lil’ Long to sit as the next challenger at the table. Ernesto got up and slapped Lil’ Long a dap.

  “Lil’ Long this man is good. Good luck, the loser pays for a bottle of Vodka and two cartons. It’s some expensive shit.” Ernesto whispered to Lil’ Long who was now in the process of taking the vacated seat.

  “You understand the rules of the game? Think before you give your answer. I want you to know that I’m playing to win,” the Russian said.

  “I ain’t played in a minute, but me an’ my man…” Lil’ Long’s voice trailed off.

  “But you can play, can’t you?” The Russian asked eagerly. “Ha, ha, surely you remember something about the game? I don’t wanna keep beating novices.”

  “I got your novice right here,” Lil’ Long stared at the pieces and smiled.

  “In a short while, we drink some real Vodka,” he bragged to a small crowd made large by their muscles. “I will have this win in a couple of quick moves. Friends watch carefully and learn. This is a brave man.”

  “I wish my man Vulcha was here to witness this,” Lil’ Long said glancing at the confused faces around him. “You da champ make your move.” Lil’ Long said.

  Lil’ Long stared in the Russian’s eyes and quickly realized his strategy was to use a pawn to make way for his queen. Then put the opposition’s king in check. Trapped, the king would be forced into checkmate by the opposing bishop or rook. Lil’ Long moved a pawn to block the Russian’s attempt at ending the chess match early.

  “Oh I see, you have understanding of game,” the Russian smiled as he moved his bishop into attack mode.

  Lil’ Long countered with a knight neutralizing the Russians move and putting him on the defensive. As the match wore on, themes of strategy became blurred and for the most part the direction of the game seemed obscured. Lil’ Long thrived in the confusion.

  The boastful Russian realized that the young street thug had a sophisticated defense strategy, which lulled him in a false sense of security. Before he was conceitedly finished with his explanation of Sputnik, Lil’ Long had gained the upper hand.

  The defending champion dodged and hid his pieces in a vain attempt at retreat. His execution was less than flawless. He had failed to connect Lil’ Long’s tactic from the opening to the middle of the match. The street warrior threw chaotic planned attacks. He sent a message that made his opponent pay for his aggressive beginning by sacrificing pawns to disguise his attacks on the ultimate prize.

  They traded and counter-traded unimportant pieces and neither backed down. Black faces were now prominent in the crowd that gathered. Everyone fell silent and held their collective breaths when they heard Lil’ Long confidently make a decisive call.

  “Check,” he barked. It came like a jolt of electricity and made the Russian sit up straight. His proud mind attempted to fathom the depth of his trouble. He scanned the chessboard analyzing his next move. He had none. The street thug had outplayed him. Since coming to this correctional facility ten years ago, he had never lost a chess match.

  “That makes it checkmate, my sputnik,” Lil’ Long laughed. Everyone in the recreation area breathed with a collective sigh.

  The Russian did not look up.

  “What’s your
name? Beginners luck? I want a rematch,” he demanded and looked at Lil’ Long. “I’ll double any wager.”

  “I’ll grant you that rematch but what if you lose. We ain’t gonna be playin’ all muthafuckin’ night, is we?”

  “Everywhere I go, the people around know me as Igor. I’m a very fair man and a man of my word,” the Russian said reaching his hand to shake Lil’ Long’s. “Go ahead, it’s your move.”

  The buzz of the audience ceased when Lil’ Long made his move. The Russian studied the board while sweating with intensity. He realized that Lil’ Long was on the offense from the jump. He countered.

  There were additional inmates taking bets. As the betting pool widened the Russian was odds-on favorite to win. Most figured Lil’ Long would be unable to beat the Russian a second time. All eyes stayed glued to the movement of the chess pieces on the board.

  Both players tested each other’s defenses. Lil’ Long knew a big moment had arrived as he held the king in position and made the call. His opponent realized too late that Lil’ Long had set this attack as far back as his first move.

  “Check,” Lil’ Long said with fierceness.

  “Check,” the big Russian countered after vigorously moving pieces around. Igor knew his king was in trouble and needed to buy time. He attempted a routine blocking move, but the Lil’ Long was undaunted in his efforts and relentlessly attacked until there was hush along the sidelines.

  “Checkmate, muthafucka!”

  A loud roar erupted from the crowd. The brothers gathered threw high fives all the way around as Lil’ Long snickered in his victory. This brought smiles to the faces of even the meanest correction officers. Igor stared in astonishment at the board.

  “I’m a man of my word, Lil’ Long. I ‘ll pay tribute with some of the finest vodka in the world,” the Russian said.

  He directed Lil’ Long away from the table and the other inmates who had gathered. “Come with me. Let’s go. We will play again, soon.”

  “No doubt you’ll have another rematch.” Lil’ Long said as he walked along side the Russian.

  “Tell me where did you learn to play so well?”

  “What, it’s been about like six years ago when I was first locked down. This CO showed me how to move the pieces around, you know? Long story short, I just kept playin’, developin’ my own muthafuckin’ strategies. Ya feel me?”

  “Ha, ha, and here you are, new champion.” Igor handed Lil’ Long a large glass. “So the CO’s do have some use, huh?”

  There was an echo of laughter and it was then that Lil’ Long realized all the others who were in tow. The entire Russian posse consisted of three body builders plus Ernesto was sticking close.

  “I hope your country have tha good shit…” Lil’ Long offered but the Russian held his hand to stop him.

  “I assure you it’s absolutely the best,” the Russian said and they all moved on. His cell was well kept. It even had carpet and a Phillips LCD monitor to watch cable television.

  “Y’all muthafuckas sick wit it in here, dogs,” Lil’ Long announced surveying the space.

  The Russian whispered and with a snap of his fingers, cigars and vodka appeared. They raised their glasses, drank and toasted a couple rounds. Lil’ Long glad-handed with the Russians.

  He understood this type of protection and knew it came with a huge price tag attached.

  “Something tells me you want to leave here. You don’t like it here at our facility?” Igor asked.

  “In here is all good for y’all but I got things, I got some BI I gotta handle back on da street. You feel me?” Lil’ Long said.

  “This ah, BI is it enough to make you want to cooperate with the law?” Igor asked.

  Lil’ Long stared at the muscular Russian who was wearing a smile. Then lunged at him, but a large boot tripped him. He fell to the rug. Before Lil’ Long could recover, three other muscular bodies dove on top of him. They smothered him. One pulled out a shank.

  “Nyet, not yet, comrade. Let’s work with this man. He has spunk and despite the odds, he would rather die than give up. Am I correct with the assessment, Mr. Long?”

  When Lil’ Long was dragged to his feet, he stood face to face with the Russian. Lil’ Long bit his lips.

  “So what’s your beef bout, man? I don’t care what ‘cha know, ma-m-m-man!” Lil’ Long said.

  Nesto kept a close eye on him. He whispered something to the Russian.

  “Listen and you’re gonna have to learn to do exactly what you’re told to do. Or else…” Igor started.

  “Or else what man?” Lil’ Long challenged. The Russian lit a cigar and puffed before he answered.

  “Or else nothing goes on. You’re going to come to understand that nothing goes on without my say so. Not a family visit, a walk to the yard, use of the recreation room. Nothing goes down unless I okay it. You will pay tribute for the privilege of leaving here.”

  “What da fuck are you going on about, man?” Lil’ Long asked. “Who da fuck you think you are?” He wondered aloud.

  “My name is Igor Daks and everyone reports to me. I have connections on the inside and the outside wherever you go.” Igor paused puffing on his cigar. He exhaled in Lil’ Long’s face, looked the street thug up and down before continuing.

  “I want you to handle your so-called BI, Mr. Long but I’ve got a proposal for you. You’ll see it’s quite a simple one with lots and lots of returns for both of us.”

  Igor smiled and puffed on his cigar then exhaled. Lil’ Long looked around the well-furnished prison cell, exhaled then sat down on a sofa. He smoked, sipped and listened while trying to contain his rage.

  SIX

  Coco sat uneasy on the hard bench. She rubbed her back, which ached from sitting in the same position for over three hours. She turned her head toward the ceiling and whispered a prayer for Miss Katie. She was distracted by the parade of usual suspects in central booking, as white officers of the law hauled young Blacks and Latinos in.

  She watched fiends squabbled for the disgustingly stale bologna and cheese sandwiches.

  “You come with me,” a uniformed officer ordered.

  Coco struggled to her feet, stretched, and walked away with him. He led her to a room and sat her down alone. Moments later the door swung open. Kowalski and Hall strolled in.

  “Coco my girl, how’re you doing yo?” Kowalski asked in mocking tones.

  He had a huge smile waiting to pop like a zit on his face. Hall laughed. Coco scowled and with a frown, Kowalski began baiting Coco. Hall got between them.

  “Why don’t you want to cooperate with the law? You see us as being weak?” Hall demanded.

  “I wanna speak to a lawyer. Are you gonna deny me my rights?” Coco asked.

  Kowalski paced, fuming, pointing and yelling at Coco.

  “Rights? You have no rights. You’re better off throwing yourself on the mercy of the court. A bag of weed and you gave up all your so-called rights. It looks like you’re going to meet big mama, girlfriend.”

  Hall pleaded with Coco. “Maybe you should reconsider. Any information that you provide us with may help someone from being murdered again. Ascot’s involvement is the key to this investigation. You’re going to save yourself and your mother a lot of headaches of dealing with the system. I mean the simplest thing for you to do is help us solve these murders and you’re free.”

  “You’re gonna be locked away for a while. You’re going to do some time. Time you can rap about,” Kowalski said pointing his finger at her. “My partner, he thinks your life may just be worth a French flying rat’s ass. Frankly, I don’t care. It doesn’t make a difference. I know if you don’t cooperate then you’re going down with all of them, Eric Ascot and all his mob cronies.”

  “I’m not saying one more thing until y’all let me speak to a lawyer. I know my rights,” she said and began humming softly.

  The detectives looked quizzically at each other.

  “Coco, if you don’t stop behaving like a retard
right now, your ass will go to jail and your mother…” Kowalski started.

  Coco hummed loud enough to drown out his voice.

  The detectives walked out the room and left the teenager alone for a brief period. Coco was still humming when they returned. This time they were accompanied by a uniformed officer.

  “All right this officer is here to process you unless you got something to share with us,” Kowalski announced. “You can go to jail for up to eighteen months on a charge of possession of narcotics.”

  “Maybe I can speak to her alone,” Hall said and took a notepad from the uniformed officer. The others exited the room. “Let me tell you that I have children, your age even. My son is just two years older than you are.”

  “Then you should understand that I don’t wanna be here, I wanted to visit with someone who’s close to me. She’s in the hospital and y’all got…”

  “Coco, first thing first, there was a bag of marijuana found in a place you occupied. Now the fact is we could just stick you in a jail cell. We’re trying to help you open your eyes. You have information on a case involving the death of a police officer. In addition, well, my crazy partner thinks you’re holding back on key info. Now I told him you’re not. He’s dreaming. The fact is Coco, I’m trying to prevent you from going to jail and he’s trying to send you there as an accessory to murder. You’ll be guaranteed to live the rest of your life locked up behind bars because the lives of two police officers were taken.”

  “I don’t know about anything like that, yo. Y’all are tryin’ to pin sump’n I ain’t do. I ain’t scared.”

  “Now, now the simplest thing would be, if you have anything you might want to say, just tell him what you know and… If you don’t want to speak with either of us, then I’m begging you, urging you, encouraging you to write down what you know on this notepad and I’ll witness your signature,” Hall said handing a notepad to Coco.

  She glanced at it with disdain.

  “If you’re not comfortable,” Hall continued. “I mean if for some reason you don’t want to write…”