Gutta Mamis (2 page)

“Let Detrick know we are charging double—no less than forty for this job.”

“Forty g's?

“No doubt.”

“If you say so, mamacita.” Lenora continued removing the squares of folded plastic that they normally used to cover furniture while they painted.

Tandra glanced over her shoulder. “You might as well save those. The furniture has to go.”

Lenora looked at the mess around them. “You're right.”

Tandra counted fourteen steps to the bathroom and glanced in. “All the walls have to be painted. Gonna have to call in Breeze.” The bathroom was empty. Relieved, she took nine more steps to the small bedroom in the back.

“Gotdamn, I don't want to deal with Breeze's ass tonight. She always got some smart shit to say. I don't want to hear nothing about her, her women or her damn dildos.”

Tandra laughed, a quiet chuckle. She moved silently into the bedroom, careful not to touch the walls or any of the furniture. Blood was everywhere. She had on the same black bodysuit that Lenora wore. Its tight fit came in handy, minimized the risk of her touching anything or leaving fabric residue of any kind. A man lay with his throat slit against the open closet door. “How much acetone did we bring?”

“A gallon,” Lenora softly called.

Another body lay at the foot of the bed, a bullet hole through his forehead. This was the largest job Tandra had been given. “Tell Breeze we need more acetone, more
Burner
, more paint, more paint thinner. She gonna have to bring the van, too. Black dropcloths for the windows. Ten of them. Tacks. Two more boxes of
garbage bags. One box of Ziploc gallon bags. Two fluorescent flashlights—there's gonna be a million prints up in here and we got to get them all. A Shop-Vac. Tell her a new one is in the back of the warehouse, by the shelves.” Burner was the special mix of chemicals that Seth had created years ago, which ate away flesh and weakened bone. Tandra mixed it—she was the only other person who knew the formula.

“Anything else, ma?”

“Tell her ass to open and put the Shop-Vac together
before
she gets here.” Dealing with Breeze, the instructions had to be detailed. “I don't want no big-ass boxes left in the Dumpster here.”

“No doubt.”

Tandra never had to worry about Lenora forgetting anything. Her mind was like a tape recorder—another reason that Tandra never said anything to her that might be sensitive. Lenora stored everything in that computer brain of hers.

Tandra listened as Lenora spoke softly into the phone, placing the call to Breeze on the disposable cell phone. Text messages were out; anything written was forbidden. The phones had been purchased and distributed that morning, a weekly routine among Tandra's employees. She was careful with her people, with their careers, with their lives.

As careful as she could be.

Tandra observed the lumpy, king-size bed. It was pushed against the far wall; its footboard faced the door. Tandra clicked her tongue. “These folks obviously don't know a damn thing about feng shui.”

“Huh?”

“Feng shui. They got the feet of the bed facing the door.”

Lenora laughed. “Here you go with your karma shit. Feet can't face the door, because…?”

“You surely don't listen—I told you this before. The dead are carried out feet first. So you don't sleep in that position with your feet toward the door. Horrible for your energy and alignment.”

“Tandy, I am sure the idiot who lived here ain't thinking about that right now. He's trying to get his soul into heaven, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Tandra whispered as she approached the bed. Either her eyes were playing tricks on her, or the end of the sheet, on the other side of the bed had moved. The movement was slight, like the tickle of a breeze. But there was no breeze in this cold-ass apartment.

“Lenora…”

“Tandy, I already called Breeze. Don't start fussing, with your impatient ass. She was already on her way, but she is going to stop by the warehouse.”

“Lenora, come here.” Tandra tried to keep her voice calm. Her steady eyes counted four more steps between the dresser and the bed.

Tandra could hear Lenora moving quickly as she changed for the gruesome task ahead. “I am not about to call Detrick. You the one always pressing me about not using a cell on the job. Always worried about our location being tracked. So I damn sure ain't calling Detrick on his for real cell from this spot.”

The sheet moved again; it lifted just a hair of an inch. Tandra snatched the Beretta that was strapped to the leather band around her thigh. She aimed at the sheet. The lump wasn't undefined anymore. Now Tandra made out the outline of a person, lying among the bundled mess, under the sheets.

Asleep?

Fear hadn't etched its way into her mind yet. She didn't know what to expect, but her first instinct of shoot first, question later, hadn't taken over yet. Tandra trained her gun on the bed as she slowly
backtracked to the bedroom door; her eyes locked on the bed. “Nora.”

Lenora stopped talking. Their eyes met. Lenora tilted her head, questioning. Tandra nodded forward to the room, confirming. Lenora snatched off her wig, threw it in the box in front of her, and trotted quickly to the other side of the doorframe as she snatched the Glocks that were strapped to either of her thighs.

The two women waited in thick silence. Seconds clicked by. Tandra nodded her head at Lenora, who stepped back into the room. Tandra followed. Both ladies had the bed covered, three fully loaded barrels ready to rain hell down upon whatever lay beneath the sheet. They stood on either side of the bed. Lenora took careful aim at center mass. Tandra yanked at the blanket and sheet from the foot of the bed. The mess tumbled to the side.

Handcuffed to the side of the bed frame was a young woman; blood was splattered across her forehead, smeared on her chin and sprinkled across her naked body.

The victim's wide eyes blinked with fear.

“Shit—,” Tandra whispered.

“—she's alive,” Lenora said, completing Tandra's thought and speaking aloud their worst fear.

“This is unfucking believable.” Lenora dropped both her guns at her sides. “How is she alive?”

Tandra didn't answer, her mind was reeling. A witness. She had never had a witness before. She had said Lenora's name out loud, called out Breeze, had responded to the name “Tandy.” The woman's eyes were locked on Lenora's guns right now, taking in the slope of the narrow barrels against Lenora's manicured fingers. Their cover was compromised.

“Tandy, what the fuck?”

Tandra shook her head. There was nothing to discuss. The answer was clear and obvious.

Lenora took a step closer to the woman. The woman's breathing increased; she whimpered and shrunk into a tight ball. The dead bastards around them, or the filth that worked for Crown, had ravaged her; that much was obvious. “What the hell did these motherfuckers do to you?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak. “Please …” Her thin frame trembled.

“What happened?”

“Nora, stop asking her questions.” Tandra took a step back. She was trying to piece together the mess in front of her.

“Naw, this don't make no damn sense. Watchu do that got you tied up in this shit, ma?”

Tandra glanced at the woman's hands. Both were empty. Tandra's eyes traveled up her wrists to the woman's arms. The track marks along her light-brown skin were unmistakable.

The girl squinted at them. She focused on Tandra as Lenora took a step closer, her mouth open.

“What the fuck?” Lenora tapped the side of her thigh with one of the Glocks, a nervous habit.

Tandra immediately noticed it. “Calm the fuck down, Nora, before you shoot your damn self.”

Lenora looked at her with a blank expression, fear flooded her eyes.

“Look at me, Nora. Calm down. Breathe.” Tandra glanced at the woman's long, black, tousled weave, which clung to her face and neck. She noticed the woman wasn't offering up any information or explanation, wasn't crying or screaming or asking to be released. Either she was in shock, or she was deeply involved in what had gone down.

“Shit.” Lenora took a step back. They hadn't seen this before, hadn't ever walked up on some type of weird rape scene where the victim was still alive in the middle of dead bodies. “What the hell happened?”

Tears finally poured down the girl's face, mixing with the already smeared mascara and blood. “Oh, thank God. I thought y'all was going to do more. I thought y'all was with them.”

“Nora, don't ask this bitch shit.” Tandra's voice was low, barely audible. “For all we know, she's a part of this mess for a reason. Or she here to do us.”

“What?” Lenora's innocent eyes reminded Tandra of her youngest son's. Deer eyes. “Look at her, Tandy.” Lenora moved a step closer to the bed. “And why would anyone want to do us?”

“Nora…”

“I can't move my arm; it's numb.” The woman twisted in anguish. “Please let me loose.”

Lenora raised her gun to shoot at the cuffs.

“Hell no,” Tandra's sharp voice tore through the room. “Nora, she could have cuffed herself. Think about it. Don't touch her.”

“Please,” the woman shouted, “you can't leave me like this. I was hiding cuz I thought y'all was them.”

“Who is them? Who did this?” Lenora stooped lower, closer to the woman.

Tandra's gut twisted violently. Something was dead ass wrong about this. “Back the fuck up, Nora.”

The woman's free hand slid under the pillow lying near her waist. Nora didn't notice; her eyes were locked on Tandra in confusion. Tandra's eyes widened in panic, her worst nightmare was taking place right before her eyes.

“Noo!” The scream ripped from her essence as Tandra fired her Beretta. The silencer minimized the explosion down to a dull, slapping sound.

It took Nora a moment before she realized what was happening. In her surprise, she fell backward, knocking her head against the dresser as she ducked.

Tandra's bullets pelted the woman in her mouth, forehead and throat.

Then there was nothing but silence.

Tandra's heart beat so fast she thought it was going to explode. She was a Cleaner, not a damn murderer.
Shit!

“Gotdamn, Tandy, what the fuck did you just do?”

“That bitch was moving for a gun.” Tandra's fury was thick. “I told you to move back from her. Fuck. Why the fuck did you get so close to her?”

“You ain't have to kill her. She ain't been through enough?”
Lenora stepped back from the body, still clenching her guns, one hand over her mouth, the other at her waist. “Look at her body, Tandra. Look at what the fuck they did to her.”

“She's a fucking fiend, Nora.” Tandra pointed her finger at the woman's arms. “You can't trust shit a fiend say or do. You think I'ma put me or you at risk over a fiend?”

“But Tandra—”

“Fuck that. She was a plant, Nora. Read it—look at the scene for what it is. An apartment full of dead folks, but she up in here alive? Ain't nobody in here with their pants off, they shirts off—who was fucking her when they got killed? No damn body. She was a plant, Lenora.”

Lenora stood quiet for a few minutes, her hands shaking. “What does that mean, Tandra?”

“It means that this scene might be a setup. I could have been a target. We could have been the targets.”

“Or, she could have been a victim that happened to survive.” Lenora stepped away from the bed. “Why isn't that an option?”

“Then what was she reaching for under the pillow?”

Lenora shrugged.

Tandy yanked the pillow off the tattered sheets and threw it on the floor. A sharp blade lay on the mattress.

“That don't make no fucking sense.” Lenora stomped back to the main room. “What the fuck was she going to do with a knife?”

“Hell if I know. But I wasn't waiting to see.”

“Do we finish the job, or run for our lives, Miss Paranoid?”

Tandra sighed. She was half a heartbeat away from cussing Lenora out. “Drop the sarcastic bullshit. We finish the job, cuz we don't know for sure. And cuz your stupid ass bumped all into the dresser and your DNA is up in here, now.”

The front door opened. Both Tandra and Lenora trained their guns at the door. Tandra was ready to kill anyone who moved wrong.

“What's up, hoes?” Breeze's broad body filled the doorway, rolling a huge black suitcase full of supplies. The suitcase matched Tandra's and Lenora's.

Tandra breathed. “Anybody see you?”

“Who you asking—what the hell you think?” Breeze snorted, then glanced at Lenora and winked. “What's up, Scrawny?”

“Not now, Breeze.” Lenora shook her head. “I don't have patience for your shit tonight.”

“Daaamn, what the fuck is up with you two?” No one bothered to answer her. Breeze surveyed the room. “Someone got it in up in here—gotdamn!”

More silence as Tandra stared toward the bedroom and Lenora fidgeted near the supplies.

“Hello?” Breeze clapped her broad hands together; her gray eyes sparkled. She wore her hair in a short soft fro, having cut her long locs once she became a full-time Cleaner. Her broad frame was tone, she kept her body fit—but she refused to wear the tight-fitted cat suit, which didn't fit her demeanor at all. Black hoodie over a black, fitted T-shirt, resting on top of black jeans neatly laid on and black Nikes were her preferred uniform. “Y'all ain't did shit up in here. Damn. Talk about wasting time—y'all been here for damn near half an hour, right?”

No answer.

Breeze pulled at the black wristband she wore, which covered her tattoo. “Somebody gonna answer me, I know that much.”

Breeze stepped into the bathroom. “At least one room is clean.” She hedged around toward the bedroom. “Three more bodies in here? Whose set is this?”