ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) (17 page)

              One of the paramedics was a pretty brunette. She reached her gloved hand into the dumpster and placed two fingers on the Jane Doe’s neck. “We got a pulse! It’s faint, but it’s there. We’ve got to get her out of here, and to a hospital! Fast!”

    With help from the police officers, the paramedics slowly lifted the body out of the filthy dumpster. They placed the woman on the stretcher, and into the waiting ambulance. The driver hit the siren and the emergency lights, and sped away to the nearest hospital, which was Greenville Memorial.

              Once at the hospital, the trauma unit medical staff did everything within their power to keep the young woman alive, which was no small feat in the condition she was in. But with some of the best medical attention the state of South Carolina had to offer, the young woman’s life was saved. Though she remained in a coma from the severe head trauma she’d sustained.

             Detective Daniel Patterson walked into the intensive care unit at Memorial Hospital, where the newly admitted Jane Doe was being held. He looked around the room at all of the equipment which was being used to keep the woman alive. She had tubes in her mouth and both of her nostrils, not to mention the machine that was breathing for her.

              Detective Patterson was a slightly overweight red neck with stained teeth, bad breath, and a raspy voice that he’d acquired over the years from the numerous packs of Marlboros that he smoked daily. He’d been with the department now for over 20 years, and had pretty much seen and heard it all.

   Patterson stood at the foot of the bed and took in the sight of the young woman lying motionless on the hospital bed. But for some reason, the savageness of the crime didn’t seem to bother him. “Probably another goddamn Black crack whore,” the detective said to himself. “Seems like their asses gettin’ younger and younger.”

    What he saw in front of him was not a defenseless, badly beaten human being that deserved empathy. Instead he saw a prime opportunity that he planned to take full advantage of. He was determined to find out exactly who the animals responsible for that atrocious act were, and bring the perpetrators to justice. Then hopefully they would spend the rest of their worthless lives rotting in a cell somewhere. Not because he cared anything about the young Black girl lying in front of him comatose in the hospital bed, but because he wanted that promotion to captain that had eluded him for so many years. As far as he was concerned, the Black bitch had gotten what she deserved. But that was just the type of case he needed to solve to rise in the ranks! He could see the headlines all over the news already:
“Detective Daniel Patterson heroically solves gruesome crime and is promoted to Captain.”

    It was probably some more dumb, cracked out niggers who did it, so finding them should be easy. But before he could do that, he had to first find out exactly who the little young Black whore was. He walked over to her bed and began fingerprinting her left hand. Since she was Black, and more than likely a prostitute, Patterson reasoned that she had probably been picked up at some point in time.

  
Shit, most of these goddamn niggers got some type of fucking record somewhere anyway
, thought Detective Patterson. If she had a record then the department would have her prints on file, which would save him a lot of time in trying to determine who she was.

              After fingerprinting her right hand, Detective Patterson contemplated taking some pictures of the woman’s face to also possibly aid him in identifying who she was. But he immediately dismissed the idea. The whore’s face was so badly disfigured and swollen, any picture he took of her right then wouldn’t even come close to resembling what she normally looked like. So instead he headed back to the department, and hoped that he’d have some luck with the prints.

              Once back at the department, Detective Patterson turned the prints into forensics, and was told that it would be about thirty minutes to an hour before they had anything for him. That was a lot less time than it took back when he had first started on the force. Due to the new technology of having every criminal’s prints in a statewide database, it made it possible for a tedious process that would have taken weeks twenty years ago to now be completed within an hour.

              Detective Patterson took the opportunity to grab himself a much needed cup of coffee to help wake him up. It looked like it was going to be a long Monday, so he made his coffee cowboy style, which was straight black. He walked down the hall and lit up one of his Marlboros, ignoring the NO SMOKING signs that were posted throughout the hallway.

              Twenty minutes later, he got a call from the forensics department. “Patterson, those prints you gave us a little while ago? We’ve got a match. Her name is Tameka Davis, 20 years of age. She was arrested on July the 4
^th
outside of a night club for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest.”

             “You got an address and telephone number on her?”

             “Yeah, hold on a sec,” said the forensic specialist, as he scanned the computer for the additional information. “We’ve got a number, but no address in the system.”

             “Alright, let me get the number.”

   The specialist recited the seven digits, and Patterson jotted down the pertinent information in his spiral notepad. He wrote the number, along with the girl’s name, and what she’d been arrested for. Unfortunately that’s all he had for the time being.

              Back in his office, Patterson dialed the number he’d been given. After several rings, somebody finally answered.

   “Hello,” said a tired, disoriented female’s voice.

             “Uh, yes ma’am, I’m trying to get in contact with a Ms. Davis?” said Patterson in his rough, gravely voice.

            “Look, it’s too early in the goddamn morning for you people to be calling my house with this bullshit harassing me! I told y’all muh’fuckas when I get the money…”

             “Look, Ms. Davis,” said Patterson, cutting her off in the middle of her tirade. “I’m not a bill collector.”
Goddamn, people think everybody calling their house is a bill collector
, thought Patterson. “My name is Detective Daniel Patterson, from the Greenville County Sheriff’s Department. Do you have a daughter by the name of Tameka?”

              Gloria immediately sensed that something was amiss. She sat up in her bed and gripped the phone tightly. “Yeah, my daughter’s name is Tameka, why? What’s wrong? Is she in some type of trouble? Is she alright?”

   Patterson hesitated for a second, trying to get his words together.

   In the silence Gloria began to panic. “Officer, is my daughter alright?!”

   Patterson cleared his throat.  “Ms. Davis, your daughter is alive, but she’s been beaten up pretty badly, and she sustained severe head trauma. At approximately 6:30 A.M. we received a call from a Greenville County garbage man, who said that he’d discovered a body in a dumpster that was on his route. An ambulance was dispatched to the scene along with some officers to investigate. Once it was determined that she was still alive, your daughter was transported to Memorial Hospital, where she was treated, and is currently being held in ICU.” Patterson relayed all of this information without any type of compassion or regards for the effect his words might have on Gloria.

             “How do you know it’s my Tameka,” asked Gloria, hoping that maybe this had happened to somebody else’s daughter, and not hers.

   The detective told her how he had fingerprinted Meka, and that the computer showed that she’d been arrested back on the 4
^th
of July. He explained that based on that arrest, he was able to ascertain her identity and phone number.

              Gloria’s worse fears were confirmed. She knew it was her baby girl because she was the one who bailed Meka out the morning after that incident at the club back in July.

              Not wanting to hear anymore secondhand information, Gloria abruptly hung up the phone on the detective while he was still talking. She hurriedly threw on some clothes. Without even bothering to brush her teeth or wash her face, she ran outside to Meka’s Chrysler 300c, jumped in, and screeched off towards the hospital.

Chapter 17

   Ant D awoke Monday morning with a thick, brown skinned PYT’s juicy lips wrapped around his dick, slowly sucking him off. After Jeezy performed at the club the night before, he left with those two freaks from Spartanburg who’d been upstairs at the table with him. They had jumped into the Vette and broke out. Since it was only a two-seater, one of the girls had to sit in the other’s lap while he drunkenly swerved in and out of lanes on his way downtown to the Marriott.

              He’d had every intention on fucking the shit out of both of them as soon as they got to the room, but his body had plans of its own. As soon as he walked through the door, he fell face first onto the bed and passed out. The combination of liquor, coke, and exotic weed he’d been consuming all night finally caught up with him and left him incapacitated.

              While Ant was unconscious, the two girls began taking off his clothes until he was lying on the bed completely naked. Then they took turns kissing and licking all over his body, in an attempt to wake him up. Seeing that he was completely out of it, the two girls discussed whether or not to rob Ant, but they decided against it. Instead they spent the rest of the night and early morning kissing, licking, and sucking on each other until they came, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

              The hot, wet sensation of the girl’s mouth working up and down and back and forth on his dick was enough to finally bring Ant D out of his slumber. He opened his eyes and glanced at the brown skinned freak that was on her knees between his legs with her thick lips locked around his meat. He couldn’t remember her name, but her head game was sick enough to give Karrine “Superhead” Steffans a run for her money.

              When she noticed that he was awake and looking at her, she took his erect penis out of her mouth and kissed the head affectionately. She acted like there was absolutely nothing on the earth she’d rather be doing than sucking on his dick.

              Her homegirl, who was lying beside Ant D completely naked, pulled her legs back and began rubbing on her own pussy while she watched her friend give him head. The first girl took Ant’s cock all the way down her throat, until her nose was buried in his pubic hairs. All the while she kept her eyes locked on his. She gagged and pulled her mouth off of Ant’s dick, and left slobber and spit all over it. She spit on his dick again, and used that lubrication to work his rock hard shaft back and forth with her hand.

              After a few minutes of the freak giving him head, Ant couldn’t hold back any longer. He closed his eyes, curled his toes, and violently let go inside of the girl’s steaming, waiting mouth, while gripping her head with both hands. She swallowed every single drop of his cum like it was her favorite flavored milkshake.

              Just then, the new Lil’ Scrappy ring tone went off on Ant’s phone.
“I got money in the bank – shawty, what you thank? I got money in the bank, shawty, what you thank?”

  
Ant D leaned over the side of the bed in order to retrieve his phone out of his jeans. Once he got it out, he flipped it open and said, “Yeah?”

             “Anthony?!!” The shrill sound of his mama’s voice calling him by his full birth name got Ant D’s attention immediately. The only time she ever called him Anthony was when shit was seriously wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

             “Yeah mama, what’s up?”

             “They got Meka! Somebody tried to kill Meka! The police done called. They found her in the trash,” screamed Gloria incoherently. She kept talking, but she was speaking so fast and loud that Ant only caught bits and pieces of what she said.

             “Hold up, mama, hold up! Slow down. I can’t understand what you sayin’ with you talkin’ all fast like that. Calm down so I can understand you.”

              Gloria took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as she could, given the circumstances. She said, “Somebody tried to kill Meka. A detective called me a few hours ago. They found her in a…in a…dumpster.” Gloria broke down sobbing.