Philadelphia Page 2

  “Here you are. You’ll do nicely,” she said to herself after a half hour of reading files. She clicked the print button. She snatched the paper from the printer, eased back in her chair, and reread the file.

  “Why aren’t you out celebrating another victory, Powell?”

  Billie jumped a little in her seat. Stanley Lewis, the district attorney, had materialized in her doorway from out of nowhere. Billie swore sometimes that this guy was a ghost.

  “No reason to celebrate, sir.” As she responded to him, she discreetly reached for her mouse and closed the file on her computer.

  “Nonsense. You should always celebrate a victory.”

  “These drug dealers, thieves, and murderers deserve worse than a few years behind bars.”

  “Well, I agree, but the laws say we can only do so much.”

  “And I prosecute them to the max, but it still isn’t satisfying to know that they will most likely be released at some point.”

  “You can’t dwell on that.” The DA changed the subject. “Anyway, nice job, Powell. You keep racking up these wins and you’ll be in line for my job. I better watch my back.” He smiled wickedly.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir,” Billie replied politely, but she was thinking, You damn right I should have your job. Even though personally they never had any problems, Billie thought that Stanley Lewis was too soft on criminals. She always thought if she had his position she would start cracking the whip and demanding more from the ADAs.

  “Go home, Powell. You deserve the rest of the day off.”

  “You’re right. I think I will take some personal time.” Billie pushed her chair back from her desk.

  “Good.” DA Lewis winked and walked away.

  Billie couldn’t figure her boss out. He was definitely happy that she kept winning her cases, but she felt that maybe he really was getting nervous she would take his job. Billie figured that his job was important to him because he spent so much time rubbing shoulders with politicians to get in their good graces. She always saw him kissing up to someone in the city government. Billie wouldn’t put it past him to be paranoid that someone would be gunning for his job. Although she never had to be careful before, she made a mental note to keep her guard up with her boss. Billie’s motto: never trust people with two first names.

  She stuffed the single sheet of paper into her briefcase, shut down her computer, and was out the door.

  While driving home, she began planning out her evening. The more she thought about it, the more she became filled with excitement and anticipation: the same feelings she would get the night before she knew she was going to win a case.

  She was planning on a late night and probably wouldn’t be eating later, so when she got home, she cooked herself a quick bite to eat. As she sat at her kitchen table eating her meal, she studied the paper she had printed from her computer. Billie had a wicked grin on her face as she read the file.

  “Time to party.” She wiped her mouth, rose from the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

  Billie showered and got fresh for her night out. She applied more makeup than she usually wore. Some heavy purple eye shadow with extra eyeliner complemented the dark cherry lipstick on her succulent lips. The blush she applied accented her high cheekbones to perfection.

  She opened her closet and flipped through the hanging clothes. She found a nice, slightly sheer black top so that in the right light you could see she wore no bra. She matched the top with some skin-tight Gucci jeans. The Louboutin heels she wore elongated her muscular legs.

  She stood in front of her full-length mirror and admired herself. Along with her long, muscular legs, she was stacked in all the right places—booty that wouldn’t quit, small waist, and nice, firm breasts.

  It excited Billie to get dressed in her “going out” clothes. When she changed into these clothes, she was a different person. It meant that she was going out to blow off some steam and satisfy her needs.

  Happy with her outfit choice, Billie jumped in her car and drove from her West Oak Lane neighborhood to the Fairhill section of Philadelphia. She parked her car on North Front Street and pulled out the paper she had printed earlier. Billie double-checked the address, picture, and name of the man she was about to meet.

  “It’s on.” She was ready for action.

  Billie got out of her car and walked down the block. North Front Street was dark and deserted. The lone streetlight on the block had been shot out, and the little sliver of moon was not illuminating anything. She passed a beauty salon, two Spanish restaurants, a Laundromat, and an auto supply store. All of their smells blended together: the chemicals of the beauty salon, the spicy Spanish food, laundry detergent, and car oil. All had their iron gates pulled down to keep the thieves out for the night. She was disgusted that honest business owners had to fear their own neighborhood. As anxious as she was about being here, she almost dared the city to put her face to face with a scumbag who might feel like breaking into one of these establishments.

  Billie stopped in front of the dilapidated two-story building and took a deep breath to calm herself. She walked up the three small, broken concrete steps to the front door and knocked. There was some rustling on the other side of the door, and her heart began to speed up with anticipation.

  The door opened slightly; the chain lock stopped it from opening wider.

  “Hello?” a man said through the small opening.

  “Hey, I’m Crystal. Your man sent me over. Said you just been released and needed a good time.”

  Billie watched through the crack in the door as the man looked to her left and right then behind her. Convinced that no one was waiting to jump him, he finally took the time to check out the fine woman standing at his door.

  Billie could see the smile spread on the man’s face.

  “Hell yeah,” he said. He closed the door and unlatched the chain to let Billie in.

  Billie stepped through the door and entered a mostly empty living room. To Billie’s right there was one recliner with a TV tray next to it. Sitting in front of that was a small television atop a milk crate, and that was it; no more furniture, nothing on the walls except a layer of dirt. She focused on the recliner. It was vinyl, with rips and tears revealing whatever stuffing was left inside. Her father used to have a recliner, she remembered. They would cuddle there together sometimes in its warm fabric.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Billie said sarcastically.

  “The fuck you expect, bitch? I just got out the pen two days ago.” The man snarled with irritation.

  She turned to him. “I know, baby. I’m just playin’.” She stroked his cheek softly. This calmed him down immediately.

  She continued, “You’re Ramon, right?”

  “Yeah, baby. That’s right.”

  “Well, Ramon, since there is no place to sit in this room, why don’t you show me to the bedroom.”

  “I like the way you thinkin’, girl.” He led her toward the back of the house. “Yo, who you say sent you? Phareed?”

  “Don’t worry about who sent me. Just know you’ve earned my visit.”

  “Hell yeah, it’s Phareed. That nigga is payin’ me back for not snitchin’. You know I had to dead a nigga for Phareed? Well, I deaded more than that, but I only got caught for one. I coulda snitched that nigga out and saved my ass, but I ain’t like that. I’m a loyal nigga. Did a fifteen-year bid off that shit—well, I only did seven of those fifteen.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I know all about you,” Billie purred.

  Ramon smiled. “Yeah, I’m pro’ly kinda famous up in the hood.”

  “Something like that.”

  The bedroom was just as barren as the living room. The only thing in the room was a dirty-ass twin bed and a nightstand with an alarm clock sitting on it.

  “I know my place don’t look nice now, but I’ma get back on my feet. I’ma call Phareed, tell him it’s time start working for him again. Yo, believe me, you
work for him, you make mad duckets.”

  “Don’t you worry ’bout all that right now. You just need to make sure this kitty is going to purr.” She seductively slid her hand between her thighs.

  “I’m gonna tear that shit up.”

  “Then sit down and let this bitch do her thang.” She pushed Ramon softly in the chest, guiding him back toward the bed.

  He plopped down on the edge of the bed and quickly started unbuckling his belt. Billie got on her knees, set her purse on the floor next to her, and helped Ramon out of his pants. She pulled his jeans down to his knees, exposing his erect, thick penis.

  “Mmmm. You got more than enough for me to break off a little somethin’. Lie back, daddy.” Again, she softly pushed his chest. He obeyed. She grabbed hold of his dick with her left hand and began to stroke it slowly. With her right hand she reached into her purse.

  Ramon heard her open the purse and looked up from his prone position. “What you doing?”

  “I’m looking for a condom, daddy. Lie back and close those eyes.”

  Again, Ramon obeyed. He liked the way this bitch was taking charge. He hadn’t fucked a woman or gotten his dick sucked in a minute, and he wasn’t about to fuck that shit up. First some head, and then he was planning on tearing that pussy to pieces.

  “Do your thang, girl.” He closed his eyes.

  Billie found what she was looking for. With her left hand she grabbed on to the head of Ramon’s dick; with her right she grabbed a pair of pruning shears. With one swift motion, she pulled the shears from her purse and cut Ramon’s dick off at the base.

  Ramon immediately shot up, and as he did, Billie plunged the shears up and into the underside of his chin. The tip of the shears tore through the skin and into his mouth, puncturing Ramon’s tongue.

  Billie jumped up from her knees to avoid the blood that was now spewing from Ramon’s groin and neck. She dropped his penis, grabbed her purse, pulled out a hunting knife, and slit Ramon’s throat.

  He was rendered silent. He struggled to try to stop the bleeding from his neck with one hand as he pulled the shears from his chin with the other. His attempts were useless. After a few moments of struggling, he went into shock and passed out from the loss of blood.

  Billie took out some baby wipes from her purse, picked up Ramon’s penis, washed off any trace of fingerprints, and then did the same with the pruning shears.

  “Unlucky for you, you only did seven years. If you did fifteen, I wouldn’t have found you today in the files of released criminals. There’s your payback for past crimes, motherfucker.” Billie calmly walked out of the house and back to her car a satisfied woman.

  When Billie promised her mother that someone would pay for her father’s death, this was what she meant. It just took her twenty years to realize it.

  Chapter 2

  Detective Walter Peterson stood over the bloody body with his notepad in hand. “Jesus. They chopped his dick off. That’s some coldhearted shit.” He scribbled a few notes. “We need to find out if this guy had any girlfriends, or who his exes are,” he said to his new partner, D’Angelo Martin.

  “Maybe one who works at a flower shop.” D’Angelo nodded to the pruning shears on the bed.

  “Did we dust for prints on these?” Walter asked the forensics guy.

  “Yeah, came back clean,” he answered.

  “Figures.”

  “You know this is the third guy in the last two months who’s been released then murdered,” D’Angelo said to Walter.

  “I was thinking the same thing. We need to start looking at the similarities between them,” Walter answered.

  Walter liked his new partner. He was skeptical at first because the kid had just been promoted to detective, but Walter had to remind himself that he was once in the same position as D’Angelo. When Walter got promoted to detective, he was paired with Detective Jerrod Jefferson.

  Jerrod was a veteran of the force and didn’t like having to work with anyone. Needless to say, when he was paired with a rookie, he wasn’t too happy. Jerrod made life for Walter as difficult as he could and made him prove himself every step of the way. Walter hated Jerrod at first and almost requested a transfer, but his pride won out and he vowed to show his mentor that he was a damn good detective.

  “Why don’t you let me do anything, Jefferson?” a young Walter asked his partner and mentor as they headed to the crime scene.

  “’Cause you don’t know shit.” Jerrod kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

  “Then teach me,” Walter answered

  “Just keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

  “How the fuck am I going to learn anything by doing that?”

  “Watch your tongue, boy,” Jerrod warned.

  “I’m not watching shit. I’m sick of your grumpy ass treating me like dirt. You need to start letting me work these cases.”

  “I’m warning you, boy.”

  “I ain’t your boy. I’m warning you. Stop calling me that shit.”

  “Or what?” Jerrod chuckled.

  “I’ll fuck you up.”

  Jerrod pulled the car over immediately. “I’d like to see you try.” He stepped out of the car and on to the busy sidewalk. Walter did the same.

  As soon as Walter stepped on the sidewalk, Jerrod sucker-punched him. Walter’s instincts took over. He swung right back and hit Jerrod in the mouth. The fight was on. The two men traded blows and wrestled as a crowd gathered around them. People were watching and cheering like they were at an MMA fight. Neither man would surrender, and the fight continued until a police cruiser pulled up. At the sound of the siren, the men broke apart, although they still eyed each other like they were ready to pounce again at any moment.

  The men both pulled out their badges as the officers approached.

  “Detectives,” one of the officers greeted them uncertainly. The officers were not expecting two detectives to be fighting each other. They hesitated, not really knowing how to approach the situation.

  “What’s going on?” the other officer asked.

  “Just a misunderstanding. We’re good now,” Jerrod answered.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” Walter said.

  “Okay, Detectives, if you say so.” The first officer turned to the crowd. “All right, nothing more to see. Keep it moving.”

  Walter and Jerrod had gotten back in the car bloody and bruised. From that point on, Jerrod changed his attitude toward the rookie detective. Walter had stepped up and shown that he was a man and Jerrod respected that. Their relationship became strong, and they stayed partners until Jerrod retired last month.

  Now Walter was the veteran mentoring the rookie. His approach was going to be different than his old partner’s. There would be no fighting with his partner to prove his manhood. Walter was going to make sure this partnership started off much smoother.

  “Any cameras in the area?” Walter asked one of the officers on the scene. “That might give us a look at who did this.”

  “No, sir. Checked with all the businesses. No one has security cameras.”

  “Anyone see anything?” Walter asked.

  “We’re in the process of interviewing neighbors. Nothing yet.”

  Walter flipped through his notepad, hoping that a magic answer might appear. “You got anything?” he asked D’Angelo.

  “I could almost guarantee this guy is connected to the other two.”

  Walter nodded in agreement. “Get back to us after you finish up the interviews.”

  “Will do, Detective,” the officer responded.

  D’Angelo handed the officer his card.

  “All right, let’s get back to the station and start putting these pieces together,” Walter said.

  “Let’s do it.” D’Angelo followed Walter out of the house.

  There was a crowd gathered around the police tape roping off the entrance to the house. Walter saw officers questioning people in the crowd, but he wasn’t hopeful that anyone would give them information. There
was a code in the hood that was rarely broken: even if you know something, don’t tell the police shit.

  Walter ducked under the tape and held it for D’Angelo as the crowd moved out of their way.

  “Yo, what happened?” one of the girls from the beauty salon asked.

  “You tell me,” Walter answered and kept walking to the car.

  “So we got three bodies, all released from lockup, and within days they are murdered. Seems like too much of a coincidence. What’s the connection?” D’Angelo said as Walter drove them back to the station.

  “They’re all grimy-ass dudes.” Both men chuckled at Walter’s little joke.

  Walter pulled the car into their parking space in front of the station. D’Angelo’s cell phone rang.

  “Detective Martin,” he answered the call.

  Walter could hear a male voice on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  “Hold on, Officer Greene.” D’Angelo pulled out his notepad and raised his eyebrows at Walter. “Okay, go on.”

  D’Angelo jotted down notes as Officer Greene spoke. When the officer finished, D’Angelo said, “Great work, Greene. If we need anything else, I’ll get back to you.” D’Angelo hung up the phone.

  He turned to his partner and said, “We got a partial description of a woman who was seen leaving the victim’s house last night.” D’Angelo’s voice was laced with optimism.

  “Let me see.” Walter took the notepad from D’Angelo and read the description.

  When he was finished, he handed the notepad back to D’Angelo. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  “Okay. This is good, right?” D’Angelo was surprised that his partner didn’t seem more excited about the potential break in the case.