Ghetto Girls IV. Anthony Whyte

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      CHAPTER 2

      Detective Kowalski was profusely perspiring, pacing back and forth. His swagger slowed and he rubbed his nose, thinking. The detective wanted to wrap this case up fast.

      “Your protections are all gone. Your mob associates were all wiped out. Now level with me! Are you leading a criminal enterprise?” he asked, staring at Eric’s nonchalant face. “Am I right? You took care of Maruichi and his boys so you can be a drug kingpin?”

      “What the hell are you talking ‘bout, man?” Eric snorted.

      Kowalski was in the hunt for a suspect and possibly a promotion if he could crack this case open. Eric sat at a desk in the detective’s office, his arms folded. He watched as the detective paced in front of him.

      Eric was contemplating his next move and glanced at the presidential Rolex on his wrist. It was five after eight in the morning. His lawyers would arrive soon to get him out of this jam. Having already spent six hours being interrogated by the police, Eric was a little frustrated, but in control.

      “Look dick, I ain’t stupid so why don’t we cut the fun and games. You’ve got nothing on me. I don’t have to say anything until my lawyers walk up in here. Then I’m out. You understand, don’t you?” Eric was tired and his voice sounded strained.

      “Don’t forget, I got a weapon used in the commission of a crime with your prints all over it.”

      “That’s bullshit! I got witnesses. I didn’t commit any crimes, dick. My lawyer walks up in here, I walk out. That’s what’s up!”

      “You fucking screwball, you’re not going anywhere. This is your gun and it was used in killing a man.”

      Detective Kowalski discharged the magazine and slammed a black Glock 37 on the desk. The sound of the weapon making contact with the empty desk reverberated through the tiny office. Eric was unshaken but Kowalski’s breath was coming fast. He leaned closer and yelled.

      “I could make it real bad for you if you don’t cooperate!”

      Kowalski’s tone was menacing but Eric remained unfazed. He folded his arms and smirked at the sweating detective.

      “Oh yeah, that’s your story, dick. I ain’t gotta say no more. My lawyer will be here soon and you’re going to have to let me go. Stop the games. You’re trying to plant that on me. You and I know it’s not working.”

      Kowalski stared at Eric and shook his head. The brass would back him if he could break the case open. He needed something corroborating. Detective Kowalski thought for a minute. An officer walked into the room and handed Kowalski a note.

      “I’m saying this now Ascot. It’s cheaper for you to play ball with us,” Kowalski warned and stared at the piece of paper.

      Then he smiled.

      “It seems like your man Lil’ Long was planning ahead. He’ll be haunting you even in death.” Kowalski stood and watched Eric’s reaction.

      Eric stared at the smiling detective, wondering what was written on the piece of paper.

      “What do you mean, dick?”

      “Here, read this for yourself,” Kowalski said, shoving the note at Eric.

      Eric hesitated but took the note. His face contorted when he saw his name and beneath it the (800) BODY-HIT grim reaper signature. Blood rushed to his head, making him woozy. Eric steadied himself and turned the note over as if expecting something other than the dollar amount. He held the paper as if he was weighing it in his hand.

      “I mean, your friend, or should I say ex-friend, put out a flat one hundred grand on your head.” Kowalski laughed, snapping his fingers like he was rolling dice. “How’d you like that turn of events, huh? Just when you thought you were home free. Now you’re gonna have to be looking over your shoulders all the time.” The detective paused and snickered. “Now, do you want to cooperate? Remember your good friend, Busta had been marked for such a hit, before you answer. Busta told us a few things about your arrangement before his brain was blown out.”

      Eric didn’t know what to say. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his chin and rubbed the stubble on his face. Busta would never snitch. Lil’ Long had killed him, he was sure, but Eric didn’t know why. Busta stayed connected to the street and had beef with a lot of people.

      The detective reached into his bag of tricks and placed a ring on the desk. Eric’s mind froze for a beat. He stared at the familiar canary yellow diamond on the ring Busta used to wear on his right pinky finger.

      It was as if the detective had found the right bullet for the empty gun on the desk. He smiled wryly when he saw Eric’s brow wrinkled and a notable grimace clouding his expression. Eric was pondering all his options. The number one priority was to get out and make sure his niece was okay. Second he needed added security. Eric summed it up in his mind. He looked at the detective sweating him through a heated stare.

      “Cooperate…? C’mon man, I already told you I don’t know anything. You’re barking up the wrong tree!”

      “Now you’re sounding like Eric Ascot, Mr. Big Time Music Producer, but you’re going down one way or the other. There are people out there who killed my partner and I wanna know why and I wanna know it quickly. You can start by telling us all about how you and Busta conspired to murder four people.”

      Eric looked at the notepaper again and then at the detective. This was a trick to get him to talk. He shoved the note at the befuddled detective.

      “When my legal team gets here, you’re gonna have to release me, dick. You and I know none of the things you’re saying is true. You’re just trying to shake me down for info I know nothing about. Do us both a favor and fall back. You’ve kept me here too long already, wasting my fucking time.”

      “Yeah, you’re gonna probably get your release. But I’m telling you, you’re a slime ball and you’ll be back crawling and begging once those bullets start coming at you. The bullet only nicked you this time. Next time you might not be so lucky.”

      “There isn’t going to be a next time,” Eric said.

      “They’re all dead, Eric. Busta, Maruichi and his boys, we’re all you’ve got left. Come straight and we can work out a deal,” the detective offered.

      “Deal? You cannot be serious?”

      “We’ll see. You’re brave now. Next time you won’t be able to fucking make up a song about it because you’ll be a dead cocksucker!” Kowalski screamed in Eric’s face.

      “Yeah, I don’t care about your theories,” Eric said.

      “I’m gonna give them to you anyhow,” Kowalski said, leaning closer. “You and your former friend, Busta, have been in contact with a hit squad, an organization which goes by some kind of code. Now we can СКАЧАТЬ