Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (10 page)

“Christian Hall,” I said in a professional voice.

“Chris, it's Bob,” the caller said. ”I hate to call you with business
on Thanksgiving Day, but this couldn't wait. We finally got the evidence we need to hand down the indictment on Melvin Jones for the murder of John Simpson.”

“What? Are you serious?” I asked excitedly. “Did they find the body?”

“No body yet,” Bob said. “But we are getting a search warrant right now to go out to his house. We have an eyewitness who said he saw Jones force Simpson into his car on the day of his disappearance. The eyewitness said he also followed the car to Jones's house, where he's sure Simpson was murdered, because he heard gunshots while there.”

“This is unbelievable!” I said, banging my hand on the steering wheel. “Where has this moron of a witness been all this time?” I asked.

“He said that he feared for his life, so he went away until things cooled down. Now he's willing to testify.”

“This is great. Keep me posted. Try not to work too hard today. If you need me for anything, give me a call,” I said, and hung up.

“I can't believe this. We are finally going to bring that thug down,” I shouted, shaking my head, still not believing my ears. “He thinks he's living high on the hog with his mansion out in New Kent, and his restaurant. Thought he was going to get away with it. Not today, Mr. Jones, not today.” I forgot for a minute that Renée was in the seat beside me.

“Who? What?” she asked.

“Oh, I'm sorry, baby. We promised no business today, right?”

“Yes, we did,” she agreed, but she continued asking about my business. “Who is Mr. Jones?”

“Some big-time heroin dealer we've been trying to get for years but couldn't touch because he stays so clean,” I answered her. ”He
thinks we're not onto him, but we've been on him for a long time. He has guys planted all over the city, hustling heroin for him. We want to make sure we have everything we need before taking him down. A search warrant is in the works, so now we'll be able to pin a murder on him on top of the drug case we've been building against him. His ass is going down.”

Renée had no response. I looked over at her, and she looked a bit uneasy. “What's wrong? Nervous about meeting Grandma Lucy?” I teased.

“No, it's not that.” Renée hesitated. “We'll talk about it later.”

“No, if something's bothering you, let's talk about it now.”

“Chris, right now is not the time. We'll have to talk about it later.”

I shifted the car back into park, hoping not to get ticketed for being in a no-parking zone for so long.

“Baby, what is it?”

“It's nothing. I'm okay, really. Actually, I think I feel a headache coming on. Let me run into the apartment real quick to get something before it gets too bad. I'll be right back.”

Renée ran back into her apartment building, looking as beautiful from the back as she did from the front. I hoped she was not having second thoughts about spending Thanksgiving with my family. That would mess up everything I had planned.

I ran to the elevator so fast that I almost fell. I hadn't lied to Chris—a headache was really coming on. My head was throbbing uncontrollably from what I had just heard. I needed to talk to Tank to get some clarification, because right now it seemed to me
that he'd been a wanted man for a while, and not just for murder, either. By the time I reached my apartment my heart was racing and my armpits were sweating. I used my house phone to dial Tank.

“What's up?” he answered.

“Tank?” I said, almost out of breath.

“Naw, this Chuck. Who dis?”

I was a little thrown off that I hadn't recognized the voice on the other end as someone's other than Tank's. “I need to talk to Tank.”

“Hold on,” Chuck said.

I heard a couple of female voices in the background before Chuck hit mute. After what seemed like an eternity, Tank came to the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Oh, hey, baby,” Tank said. “Nothing, we was just, umm, kicking it at Chuck's crib. His girl cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I thought you were gone with that nigga by now.”

Thoughts of Tank's past infidelities suddenly came to mind, overriding the reason I had initially phoned him.

“Sounds like more than Thanksgiving to me,” I said jealously.

“Come on, now. It's not like that.”

“Where were you that you couldn't answer your own phone?”

“I was in the bathroom.”

“That's bullshit, Tank. The only time you take your phone off your hip is when you're fucking. Is that what you were doing? Huh?”

“Baby, look—”

“Fuck that, Tank. I've been playing this game for four months now with Chris, and this is the thanks I get? You out there sticking your dick where it don't belong?”

“Baby, I told you, I was in the bathroom washing my hands,” Tank tried to reassure me.

“Stop fucking calling me baby!” I snapped.

“Okay, look, I'm at this nigga's crib. He got people here. I don't know some of these people. I can't use your name. Somebody might overhear.”

“Tank, go outside
now.
This is important.”

“This can't wait?”

I sucked my teeth in disgust. “Hell, no, this can't wait. Hurry up, because Chris is downstairs waiting for me in the car, and I don't want him to come up here looking for me.”

“Okay, let me grab my jacket.”

I could hear Tank say something to Chuck. I assumed he was telling him that he had to step outside. I could hear his footsteps as he made his way to the door. He was probably wearing the gators I bought for him last month. He said the shoes were given to him out of guilt because I seemed to be having fun hanging out with Chris. He made the mistake of asking me who was better in bed, and because there was a slight pause in my answer, I think he assumed that my answer was Chris. Not that I would ever have told Tank, but Chris
was
better. He was more passionate, and gentler. Right about now he was more trustworthy than Tank, too, but all of that didn't matter. Chris was business. What was important was that I needed to warn Tank. Besides, I was positive that I knew the reason Tank didn't answer his phone.

“Okay, talk to me,” Tank said.

“Tank, they're getting a search warrant right now as we speak to go out to your house,” I said. “Chris said they have enough evidence to pin that murder on you.”

“A search warrant?” Tank nervously questioned.

“Yes, and he mentioned your house out in New Kent. They know where you live, Tank.”

“Fuck!” he shouted.

“That's not all. He said they've been after you for years. They know all about you dealing heroin. They've been trying to build a big case against you. It sounds like they know about your whole operation.”

Tank got silent. I guess he was trying to process everything so he could plan his next step.

“You need to get out to the house and clean up,” I said. “I don't know how quick they can come up with a search warrant on a holiday, but I know they're working on it. Tank, this is more serious than I thought.”

“Look, go ahead to dinner and keep your ears open. I need to figure something out.”

“What do you want me to do? Chris is adamant about bringing you down. I don't think I can change his mind.”

“Stick to the plan. Did you leave the key like I asked?”

“Yes, I did it last night.”

“Cool. I'll call you later. If something else comes up, try to call me back as soon as you can.”

“Tell me you love me,” I said, but he just hung up the phone in my ear. This entire situation was getting out of control. For one thing, I never thought the police were onto Tank and his drug-dealing operation. This was only supposed to be about Li'l John's disappearance. It was a whole lot bigger than I was led to believe. I wondered if Tank knew about the drug case but only told me about the murder case to get me to go along with the plan? Maybe he knew they didn't have enough evidence for a solid drug case, so if I could thwart the murder case, it would buy him enough time to get out of the drug game, as planned.

A knock at the door startled me, bringing me out of my whole train of thought. I still had my house phone in my hand, so I quickly hung it up before opening the door. When I did, Chris
was standing there with a look of anxiety. He was probably worried that I had changed my mind about Thanksgiving.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked.

“I'm fine, Chris. I just needed to take something for this headache. Maybe I shouldn't go to the Thanksgiving dinner after all. I'm not in a festive mood right now.”

“Renée, baby, you have to. Please?” Chris begged.

Under the circumstances I didn't really want to, but I knew I had to. Otherwise, Chris would become suspicious, and Tank needed me to be his eyes and ears.

His grandmother lived in a small brick ranch-style home in an older subdivision off West Broad Street. Either we were the first ones there or this was not going to be as big a family dinner as I thought. There were only three cars in the driveway, including Chris's. Before we reached the door, a short, heavyset, light-skinned elderly woman opened the door. Chris hugged her, so I assumed she must be his grandmother.

“Grandma Lucy, this is Renée. Renée, this is Grandma Lucy,” Chris said, introducing us.

“Hello,” I said, filling her open arms that she had spread out to hug me. I suppose it was customary, but it felt awkward as hell.

“I'm so glad to finally meet you, Renée,” Grandma Lucy said, hugging me tightly. “Chris has told me all about you. Come on in; make yourself at home.”

We followed behind Grandma Lucy through a small living room as the smell of corn bread surrounded us. Her house was cozy with knickknacks and pictures all over the place. The dining room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, had an oversize oak table with eight chairs.

“Hey, Uncle Junie,” Chris said to an older gentleman who was fumbling with the table leaf.

“Lucy, I believe somebody done broke dis leaf, ‘cuz it don't fit,” Uncle Junie said without acknowledging me or Chris.

“Hey, Uncle Junie,” Chris said louder, this time causing Uncle Junie to turn around to see us.

“Oh, hey! There's my big-shot great-nephew. How you doing, boy? And who is this pretty fox you got with you?” Uncle Junie said.

“This is Renée, Uncle Junie,” Chris replied.

“How are you doing?” I said, feeling more awkward by the minute. Just then I felt my cell phone vibrating in my purse.

“Where's the bathroom?” I asked anybody who could answer.

“Chris, show that pretty Indian girl to the bathroom. I can tell she Indian; look at her hair,” said Uncle Junie.

“Shut up, Junie, you old fool,” Grandma Lucy said. “Chris, I'll show Renée to the bathroom. Help your uncle with that table. I swear, we can't never start nothing on time. Come on here, sugar,” said Grandma Lucy. I followed her through a small, stuffy kitchen to a family room. “The bathroom is over there,” she said, pointing across the paneled room. Two older ladies sat on the sofa, watching a movie, and didn't move their eyes from the TV when I walked in.

“Hello,” I said, but there was no response. I made it to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and pulled out my cell phone. I checked my missed calls. They were all from Tank. Something must be wrong, so I called him back.

“Hey, what's wrong?” I asked Tank.

“They just got to the crib, but I was able to leave a little dirt before they got here.”

“Chris?” I said.

“Yeah. That nigga Chris should be getting a call real soon. I'll holla at you later.” Tank hung up quickly

I flushed the toilet and ran the water in the sink to act as if I
had used the bathroom and was washing my hands. I walked into the family room, where Chris had just come in and was now hugging one of the two ladies who was watching TV. He was about to introduce them when his cell phone rang.

“Chris Hall,” he answered his phone. “Tell me something good, Bob.”

My heart was racing as I listened to his side of the conversation.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Chris said as he nodded. Then he paused. “What?!”

I watched Chris's facial expressions change. The police must have been at Tank's house now, and I was pretty sure that they'd found the fake evidence Tank had planted. Bob was probably telling him they needed to talk to him right away to discuss what they found.

“What are you talking about? Are you crazy? Okay, okay, listen, meet me at the corner of Libbie and Broad. How quickly can you get there? Okay, I'll see you then,” Chris said, hanging up the phone in a panic.

“What's the matter?” I asked, trying not to appear guilty.

“I don't know, but I need to find out. Listen, I have to go. Can you stay here until I get back? I need to go and meet Bob about something he says is very important.”

“But, Chris, I don't feel comfortable, I mean …”

“It's okay; you'll be fine. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

He kissed me and then literally ran out of the house. I was left standing in the family room with the two old hags, who were now staring me up and down.

“I'm sorry, I'm Renée,” I said, extending my hand. Both of them sucked their teeth and turned back toward the TV. I guess I must've offended them when I said I didn't feel comfortable staying
without Chris, but I was telling the truth. I didn't know these people. I took a seat on a slightly worn sofa and waited. Some time went by, and then my phone vibrated again. After checking the number and seeing the call wasn't from Chris or Tank, I let it go to voice mail.

I was doing about eighty-five in a fifty-five, but I didn't care. Bob, one of the primary detectives assigned to the Melvin Jones case, had me a little worried. Whatever he found when they searched Melvin's house was of some interest to me. At least, that was what Bob said. I couldn't possibly figure out what it could be, but he told me to meet him to find out exactly what it was. I pulled into the parking lot of the Amoco gas station on the corner of Libbie and Broad Streets, which was closed because of the holiday. It would take Bob a little while longer to get over to this side of town, since he had to come from New Kent, so I pumped up the heat in the car and waited. I hated that I had to leave Renée at the house with people she didn't even know, but it was better this way. I still had no idea what this was all about. Maybe that drug dealer was somehow affiliated with my mother.
That's it,
I thought. He probably found some information on my mother. Maybe she'd been arrested for buying drugs from one of his boys or something.
What a piece of crap this Melvin Jones is,
I thought. When we were finished with him and his whole crew, the projects’ drug supply was going to be hit hard.