Teri Woods - True To The Game III

Terrell seemed to not even notice her leaving. He was too deep in thought of all the things he planned to do to seek his revenge against Gena.

Once Champagne was a safe distance away, she turned and hurried to her car. Bitch, ain’t you glad you didn’t say “bananas”!

Lieutenant Mark Ratzinger lifted his hand calling for a round of beer. The bartender nodded, and Mark turned back to his associates.

“Where are we at on this?” Ratzinger asked.

“We’re tracking her.” Dick Davis told him. “She’s made some big purchases, but she hasn’t led us to the money yet.”

Letoya Ellington shrugged. “She’s smarter than we thought. She must’ve kept an extremely large sum out to spend. The rest, she must’ve hid. And besides the car, and some jewelry, she hasn’t really spent big.”

“She could not touch that stash for months,” Dick added. “Hell, maybe even years.”

Ratzinger shook his head. “Well, it’s getter harder and harder to justify the money and man hours we’re spending tracking her. Pretty soon, somebody is gonna wanna know why we’re on her, and why we haven’t produced anything.”

Cornell Cleaver nodded. “He’s right, guys. This thing can’t go on too much longer. We’re going to have to come up with something, and soon.”

“Like what?” Ellington asked.

Ratzinger shrugged. “Is she dirty in any kinda way? Can we swoop on her and press her?”

The drinks arrived at the table. The detectives sat in silence as the waitress passed their beers around the table. The conversation resumed as soon as she left.

“As far as we can tell?” Ellington shook her head. “Other than spending drug money, no. She’s clean.”

“Can we plant something on her, bring her in, and then pressure her?” Cleaver asked.

Ratzinger shook his head. “That means we would have to bring in a black and white.”

“So? There’s enough money to go around.” Cleaver replied.

“The fewer people we have involved in this, the better,” Ratzinger told him.

“I’m Internal Affairs. I can get us a couple of dirty patrolmen to pull her ass over and plant the shit. That’s nothing; we do it every day,” Cleaver told them.

“I can break her in the confession room,” Ellington added.

“Break her? She hasn’t committed a crime. Police 101, guys, remember your first day at the academy. An innocent person isn’t going to confess,” Ratzinger pointed out.

Cleaver leaned forward. “I say we get her in the room, let her know how much time she’s facing, and we get her to trade her freedom for the goddamn money.”

“And if she doesn’t confess?” Ratzinger asked. “What if she doesn’t break? What if she requests an attorney? What if some hotshot lawyer walks her ass out of the station and is on the phone with Internal Affairs the next day? What happens then? Anybody thought about that shit? Jesus Christ, guys! Think! We can do better than that shit!”

Davis leaned back in his chair. “What about a boyfriend? You think she’d give it up to a lover?”

Ellington smiled. “I don’t think you’re her type, Dickie.”

“Not me, asshole. I’m talking about bringing in a young detective friend of mine to seduce her ass.”

“And you think he looks hot enough to seduce her?” Ellington laughed. “Dickie, I’m going to have to watch you.”

“Fuck you, Toya!” Davies groped himself. “This is all dick, and it loves nothing but pussy.”

“Okay, at least you guys are thinking,” Ratzinger told them.

“Hey what about the big fish you caught, what was that guy’s name, umm… Rick or Rik,” Cleaver said. “What about him?”

Ellington shrugged. “What about him?”

“She offered to help him once, didn’t she? Maybe she’d be willing to offer it to him again.”

Ellington nodded. “Maybe.”

“We just have to make him need it.” Davis smiled.

“We’ll bust his ass, as soon as he jaywalks.” Cleaver added. “We can plant some shit on him, juice things up for the judge so his bond is through the roof, and put the word out on the street.”

“How can we guarantee that she’ll get the word, or even give a shit?” Davis asked. “And how can we be sure that she’ll even make the offer again, or that he’ll accept it?”

“Look, we just need to come up with a way to get her to lead us to wherever she’s got it stashed,” Ratzinger told them. “What about the grandmother? Any medical bills? Any creditors? Anybody close to her that she would loan a large sum of money to? That’s what we need to start looking for, see who she’s close to. Start tracking friends and family. See who she hangs out with and calls all the time. Real police work, ladies and gentlemen, time to show why each of you made detective.”

Ellington lifted her beer into the air. “To making detective.”

“Detective!” The others lifted their glasses to toast.

“Let’s hurry up and put this bitch in the poorhouse,” Cleaver added.

The others around the table laughed.

Terrell walked to the door and pounded on it forcefully. He hated being in Richard Allen, especially on a day like today, when he had business to take care of. There was always some stupid-ass niggas wanting to stare you down or eyeball you like they’re hard. And when you played the game with them, it almost always led to a gunfight. He had no time for that kind of bullshit today. No, today he was on a mission. He needed to handle his business and keep it moving. Gah Git opened the front door.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for her.” Terrell held up the photo that he had of Gena.

“Her?” Gah Git eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Your granddaughter.”

“I don’t have my glasses on. You got a name?”

Terrell smiled. “Gena. I’m looking for Gena.”

“Oh, well, Gena don’t live here no more. What’s your name? If she calls I’ll tell her you came by. If you want you can leave me your phone number for her.”

“I heard that she does live here.”

“Well, you heard wrong, son.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to play games with me, would you?” Terrell asked. “She’s not inside hiding or anything like that, right?”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Now, I said she ain’t here and she don’t live here, and don’t you come back here no more,” Gah Git said, trying to slam the door in his face, but Terrell stuck his foot in the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gah Git shouted. “Gary! Gary!”

Terrell shoved the door open, knocking Gah Git onto the floor. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Get the hell outta my house!” Gah Git shouted. “Gary!”

Gary ran down the stairs. “What the fuck is going on?” He leaned forward and helped his grandmother up. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Where’s Gena?” Terrell demanded. “Is she here?”

“Nigga, you better get the fuck outta here!” Gary told him.

Terrell shoved Gary out of the way and walked into the kitchen.

“Nigga, I said get the fuck outta my grandmom’s house!” Gary shouted. He charged Terrell.

Terrell backhanded Gary, and then clasped his hand around Gary’s throat. Gary gripped Terrell’s hand and struggled to free himself. Terrell tossed Gary aside like a rag doll, sending him flying over the living-room coffee table.

“Oh, my God, Gary! Gary, you okay?” asked Gah Git, running to her grandson’s side. “Get the hell outta here!” Gah Git shouted.

Gary rose and charged Terrell again. Terrell punched Gary in his stomach, dropping him to the floor. He kicked Gary in his stomach, and then pulled out his pistol.