Sins of a Siren (25 page)

Halfway between the hotel and Momma's Café where she was going for breakfast, Trenda slowed her pace as she approached one-hundred-and-ten-year-old St. Augustine's church. She adjusted her dark shades and watched the last folks trickle in trying to make the eleven-thirty service.
This looks like daddy's church.
The huge, brick church boasted of the largest congregation of Episcopalians in the city. The modern digital marquee, erected above the twelve-foot-high solid oak doors, displaying service times and upcoming events was a blemish on the magnificent ancient architecture.

A wave of melancholy washed over her. She recalled how she actually used to love going to church. Each Sunday she looked forward to the feeling of comfort in God's house. That was before puberty hit and the devil in her hormones took over. At the age of twelve, her development began. By the time she was a teen, the looks she received from men had changed from “she's a cute kid” to “mmmmmm, shit, she is sexy!”

Her regular skirmishes with her parents also began. She recalled her father's favorite Bible quote: Revelation 22:12:

Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done.

She had heard that quote more times than she cared to remember.
My period must be getting ready to come down,
she thought as her somber mood encased her. She rubbed the spot on her arm where her contraceptive implant was located.
It's almost time for me to get a new dose
. Bitchiness and extreme horniness were warnings that her monthly was on the way. After passing through the shadow of the church, the sunlight made her feel a little better.

The pancakes, bacon and scrambled egg breakfast she enjoyed at Momma's Café worked a miracle on her mood. After pushing back from the scraps of her meal, she took her cell phone out of her purse. After returning her many, many voicemails and missed calls from her most important clients, she set the phone on her table.
Fuck…I have turned down almost five grand worth of work since I left.

The sun beaming through the café window warmed the side of her face.
Oh well, I gotta get used to that anyway if I'm really serious about tryin' to live a square lifestyle. Even though running that briefcase of coke from B-more to South Carolina would have paid for a couple months of bills for me, I can't let that big money tempt me.

A husky man, in his finest church suit, walking past the window, reminded her of Box. She smiled and picked up her phone.
I wonder what my big-boo is up to this fine Sunday morning?

After three rings, his familiar voice sounded. “Hey, Mya! How are you? I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Well, today is the day. What you up to, Box?”

“Not much. I just got back from visiting my mother's church in Vallejo. What's on your agenda? Did you go to church today?”

What's with all these religious messages today? I know it's Sunday but damn!
“No, I didn't make church today. I'm just tryin' to enjoy
my day off before I have to go back to the plantation tomorrow. I was kinda wondering if you wanna hang out or somethin'.”

“That sounds real good to me!”

Trenda grinned and waved to the waitress to bring her check. “Are you sure about that? Did you get permission from Meagan to get out the house?”

“Don't tell me you are still on that ‘needing permission' kick. I told you I answer to no one but God.”

Trenda accepted the bill from the waitress, reached into her wallet and placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table next to the bill. “Anyway, I'm out and about; do you want to meet at the Starbucks where we met when I went to the DMV?”

“Yes, let's do that. What time?”

She glanced at the clock on the café wall. “About twenty minutes.”

“Okay, I'll see you then!”

After ending the call, Trenda stood, stretched and smiled. The warmth building in her pelvic area pepped up her mood.
Let's go see what Box is all about…

As Trenda walked back to the hotel, got her car and drove to El Cerrito, Officer Kain was busy in his hotel room looking up information on Walter Secrease. The phone book ad for “Secrease Funeral Homes” laid open before him, on his hotel room's tiny desk. “Looks like this brotha has a few bucks,” Darius said as he looked at the full-page ad. “At least I know where I can find him if need be.”

The ad featured the business hours, location and the fact that they performed traditional burials at their four-acre cemetery.
They also did cremations in their onsite crematory as well. After entering all the pertinent information about the funeral home into his BlackBerry, he went into his bag and got the second of two cell phones he and Tyrone used when they needed an anonymous conversation and dialed. “What's good, partner?”

“Well, besides having to worry about the possibility of losing my job
and
ending up in jail, everything is pretty goddamn good.”

“Easy, homeboy. Hold on to ya panties. Have you heard anything from Internal Affairs?”

“Not a word. They just ‘requested' I be available in case they need to contact me. I wish I had thought of goin' on vacation right before all this shit went down like you did. How the fuck you get so lucky?”

Darius stood in front of the mirror next to the TV, picked up his brush off the desk and gave his hair a few strokes. “It's called handling your business.” He put the brush down and rubbed his eyes. “Anyway, I was just callin' to get your status. For the time being, we'll only talk on these phones; I don't wanna take any chances. They might have our regular phone lines tapped.”

“I wish you would quit talkin' to me like I am some new-booty rookie! If you think about it, I have been on the force a year longer than
you
, homeboy.”

Darius furrowed his brow. “
What
? I just
know
you ain't goin' there! You are the one that was always cryin' about how broke you were when we first became partners almost ten years ago. Did you forget about that stripper you fucked from Savannah who got pregnant and is suing your ass for child support and your other baby momma that is collectin' from you? It was
me
that hipped you to the game and helped you make enough extra money to dig your ass out of bankruptcy and get your ex-wife's lawyers out your ass!”

“Yeah, well—”

“Yeah well my ass! Don't forget it was
you
that begged
me
to bring you into my side hustle. Besides bein' a rapper or ball player, where the hell else could a broke and horny muthafucka like you make an extra ten grand a month and free-fuck every prostitute in Baltimore?”

“Man, this is different; it's not like some upset gang member wanting to get revenge on us shakin' him down. We can't just drop Internal Affairs in a tub of acid to get rid of them…and all this drama is behind
you
chasing that redheaded bitch's pussy.”

The unaccustomed feel of losing control of a situation caused his words to dry up in his mouth. He'd watched Tyrone dispose of many bodies over the years without nearly this much concern.
Maybe I am taking this situation too lightly.
“You're talkin' too much…way too much.”

“Whatever. I gotta go; handle
your
business and get rid of this problem
quick
.”

Darius shook his head after hearing his stressed-out partner end the call.
That fool is comin' loose at the seams. I can't afford to have his ass freakin' out on me now.
He sat at the desk and looked at the ad for Secrease Funeral Homes again.
Fuck waitin' for Piper to do all the work. I'm gonna go do some recon work on my own.

I
nside her car, just outside the El Cerrito Department of Motor Vehicles, Trenda smiled at the sight of the thick man standing near the entrance of the closed building. He stood in the shadow of the entryway looking up and down the sidewalk. “I bet he ain't ever been late for an appointment in his life.”

Outside the car, it took mere seconds for the watchful Box to spot his desire. Trenda put a lil' extra sway in her already lethal sexy walk as she approached him. Leaving his spot in the shade, his smile grew with each step. “Hello, gorgeous one!” He opened his thick arms and offered her a hug. “Come here, you!”

A genuine smile curved her mouth as she walked into his arms. “Hey, big fella! Did you miss me?”

“More than the deserts miss the rain.”

The smell of his cologne was pleasant. She smirked. “Okay… now I know you stole that line from a song I heard a long time ago.”

“Guilty as charged.” He gently released her. “But it fits! You sure have been on my mind.”

A pair of teen-aged boys on skateboards whizzed past them. A rogue cool breeze briefly visited the smiling couple. Trenda adjusted her shades and watched the skateboarders use pedestrians, the DMV stairs and the curb as their personal obstacle course. “Now why in the world would you be thinking about me? I'm sure Meagan gets all your attention.”

He rolled his eyes, then pushed the sleeves of his topaz-colored
shirt up to the middle of his forearms. “Why do you have to bring her up? This is
our
time.”

He is so thick
! she thought as she ran her eyes over his body while putting her shades back on. “I'm just sayin'…I don't need you callin' out the wrong name one night. I'd hate to think of her doing an ‘Al Green' and throwing hot grits on your ass.”

Laughter erupted from him. “Oh my God! I cannot believe you went there!” He wiped sweat off his forehead. “Are you always this suspicious?”

She chuckled to herself as she watched him struggle with not looking at her tits. “I am a woman…suspicion is in our nature. Besides,” she unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and gave his throat some air, “if we are gonna be the kind of friends I believe you wanna be, I need to know what kind of situation I'm workin' with.”

It took a few moments for him to formulate his words. The unusually warm spring afternoon didn't account for all the heat he was feeling. His body language told Trenda all she needed to know; seducing him would be as easy as drawing a breath. “What do you mean when you say ‘the kind of friends I want to be'?”

Smiling behind her shades, she walked up and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. “The kind that fuck…”

A nervous grin took shape on his face. “What…what did you say?”

She glanced at her watch. “Look. Enough of this drama. I saw a few motels on San Pablo Avenue on the way here. We are going to go to one, book a room and fuck.” She crossed her arms and looked in his face. “Is there a problem with that?”

Licking his lips, he ran his hand over his head. “Wow! Boy…I uhhh…” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “God, you have no idea how long I have waited for this, Mya.”

She took his large hand in hers. “Where did you park, sexy?”

“Right down the street.” He walked her halfway down the block and stopped at a blue Prius. “Here we are.”

Trenda lifted her shades and studied the car. “Is this one of those cars that gets a million miles a gallon?”

“Close.” He opened her door and let her in. “It gets me from here to there a lot cheaper than most cars.”

Reaching between his legs before closing the door, she squeezed his chunk. “Just make sure it gets us to the motel, baby.”

“S
o this is the place,” Darius said as the beacon on his GPS showed he was in front of Secrease Funeral Home. He pulled into the large, empty parking lot next to the sparkling white building. Tall Italian Cypress trees, standing like twenty-foot-tall missiles and well-trimmed hedges encircled the facility. It reminded Darius more of a Southern-style plantation mansion than a building of death.

The crematorium portion of the building was tastefully placed behind the building, hidden from view. The only giveaway was the chimney from the furnace, which peeked over the rooftop of the main building. He looked at the eaves of the building and at the lamppost in the parking lot. “Cool…I don't see any kind of security cameras in place.”

After taking a second look around, he walked up to the large double doors and read the sign giving the business hours. He checked the door locks. “These are easy enough to break into… but then I doubt Mr. Funeral-man never had much need to worry about anybody breakin' into a fuckin' funeral home.”

He made his way to the back of the building and checked out the crematorium. It, just like the main building, had minimum security set up. A row of white limousines and hearses sat across from the entryway into the crematorium. “Ahhhh, what's this?” he said after reading a plaque next to the door. It told him deliveries were only accepted during the week after three in the afternoon. “I bet that's when he does most of his body burning.” He looked
up at the tall chimney. “I'm sure he doesn't want to have the thing smokin' during the day if he can help it.”