Ghetto Girls 3. Anthony Whyte

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Any idea? You were close enough,” Hall said.

      “Yeah, but understand, you in the hood, and ain’t nobody sticking around trying to see if someone pulled out a gun. You be out, running, or you ducking, man,” Coco added with a shrug.

      “If it was all running and ducking, how do you know someone had a gun?” Hall asked.

      “One of them did. Sump’n went bang. Someone let off but I’m damn Skippy, it wasn’t me. And that’s what’s really up.”

      “Is that your story?”

      “My story? That’s what happened.”

      “We spoke to several people who suggested that maybe you also had a gun. Or…” Hall began to say.

      Coco walked to the door and opened it. She stuck her head out and yelled:

      “People round here need to learn to mind their damn BI and stop giving po-po wrong info, yo.” She slammed the door then returned to face Hall.

      “You’re being straight with us, Coco? You are aware that you can go to jail for a very long time for lying to the police.” Hall said.

      “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout, yo.”

      “C’mon Coco give us a name. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you know one name,” Hall pleaded.

      Kowalski walked over closer to them. His face bore an agitated look of impatience. He stood in front of Coco trying to intimidate her.

      “Yeah, why won’t you give us the right info, huh?” He asked. Before Coco could give an answer, Kowalski moved closer. He continued yelling in her face. “You lied about your involvement in Ascot’s shooting. I’ll bet anything that you’re lying about your attackers and who had the guns. You’re covering up your involvement in each of these instances and I don’t like it one bit.”

      “She told us whatever she knew,” Hall offered weakly in Coco’s defense. “We can’t blame her, she had to duck. Bullets have no names on them. You know, you got to get out the way…”

      “I don’t believe a thing this lying Black bitch has said so far!” Kowalski screamed. Coco bit her lips and clenched her fist.

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ