Sins of a Siren (8 page)

“Fuck!” Griff glared at Darius. “How do I know you ain't gonna keep harrassin' me even if I do tell you?”

Darius walked over to a rack full of top quality in-dash CD and DVD players and picked one up. “You don't.” He walked back over and stood in front of Griff. “But I guarantee if you don't, every time you open your eyes, you're gonna see the world through prison bars.”

Griff removed the unfinished cigar from his pocket, put it in the corner of his mouth and chewed on it as he pondered his future. “She was here a couple days ago tryin' to sell me her truck. I bought it and dropped her off on North Charles Street. I ain't seen or heard from her since.”

“Where was she going?”

“I dunno; she didn't say, and I didn't ask.”

“Where did you drop her off?”

“I told you I dropped her off on North Charles Street.”

Darius grabbed a handful of Griff's thick beard. “Think hard, muthafucka. Did you drop her off at a house, business, movie theater, what?”

Griff broke free of his grip and rubbed his sore chin. “Owww, fuck!” He glared at Darius. “All I remember is droppin' her off by a big Laundromat on North Charles and East Madison.”

“What time was it when you dropped her off?”

“Fuck, I dunno…it was kinda late…around midnight.”

Darius looked at the expensive combination in-dash CD/DVD player in his hand. “If I find out you're lyin', I'm gonna come back, put you in the trunk of one of these cars and run it through the car crusher. You got that?”

Griff narrowed his eyes and mumbled, “Yeah, I got that.”

Darius pulled the cigar out of Griff's mouth, flicked it away and shoved him against the stripped SUV. “I didn't hear you, fat-ass.”

“I
said
I heard you.”

Darius let go of Griff, tucked the CD/DVD player under his arm, went into his jacket pocket and handed him one of his cards. “Call me if she shows up or contacts you. I'll be back to check on you real soon.” He looked at the stacks of chrome rims in the far corner. “Oh, and make sure you get me some nice twenty-six-inch rims for my Escalade. I'll be expecting them next time I see you.”

Griff huffed. “When the hell is that gonna be?”

“When I fuckin' feel like it.” He patted Griff on the side of his jaw a couple of times. “And don't forget the tires to go with the rims.” Darius then left the garage, walked to his Escalade and put the confiscated CD/DVD player inside.

Half an hour later, Darius pulled up to the intersection of North Charles and East Edison streets.
Now where is that Laundromat Griff was talking about?
He slowly drove up North Charles and saw the Sudz N Dudz Laundromat on his right.
Bingo!
He parked in front, got out of his car and looked around.
If she sold her truck to Griff, she had to be desperate for cash.
He looked at the bus schedule posted on the bus shelter.
She is most likely trying to get out of town with all the heat on her.

A blue and white sign pointing in the direction of the Amtrak station caught his eye.
I wonder…
he jumped back in his car and sped off to the train station.

“How can I help you, Officer?” asked Dorothy McMurray, the silver-headed manager on duty, as she offered Darius a seat in her office. Photos and paintings of the evolution of the trains over the years hung on the walls of her office.

He put his badge away and took a seat on the wooden seat across from her antique desk. “I need to see the security video tapes from last Friday night.”

“Certainly, but may I ask why?”

“I'm trailing an attempted murder suspect. We have reason to believe the suspect boarded a train here on the way out of town.”

She placed her hand to her mouth in shock. “Get out!
Really
?”

“Yes. She's very dangerous. I need to find her as quickly as possible.”

She put on the glasses that hung on a chain around her neck and stood. “Please, follow me to the security room.”

He followed her out of her office and across the station. Late afternoon sunlight illuminated the huge, intricately designed stained glass section of ceiling. Across the hallway, next to the stainless steel, light rail ticketing machines, they stopped in front of a door marked SECURITY. She unhooked a key ring from a belt loop on her dark blue pants and unlocked the door. He followed her into the room. Twelve monitors recorded the entire terminal—inside and out—from every conceivable angle. A rack full of VCR's blinked and whirred. On the wall behind them was a wall full of shelves, loaded with labeled VCR tapes. “Just a moment. Let me search for it.”

I'm glad this old broad is cooperating.
He gave her a well-practiced, insincere smile as she scanned the rows of tapes. “I really appreciate your help, Mrs. McMurray.”

“No trouble at all! With all the craziness going on in the world, we must work together to lock up these nut jobs. Do you have a particular time of night you're looking for? These tapes record in four-hour blocks.”

“I need to see the tapes from about eight to midnight.”

She smiled and pulled a tape off the bottom rack. “Ah! Here we are!” She placed the tape in one of the VCR's, picked up a remote control off the desk and pressed PLAY. “I hope you find who you're looking for.”

Darius pressed STOP on the tape. “I'm sorry but can I have
you step out the room, please? For the sensitivity of this investigation, I can't disclose the identity of the suspect. I hope you understand.”

She nodded. “I understand, Officer Kain.” She handed him the remote to the VCR. “If you would, just place the tape back in the case, turn off the VCR and lock the door behind you. I'll be in my office if I can be of further assistance.”

He waited for her to leave, then pressed PLAY. He scanned the faces of the people entering the train station on the tape.
Shit! This is gonna take forever!
He impatiently fast-forwarded the tape in small increments. “Ha!” He paused the tape after spotting a stunning and sexy woman beating a baseball cap against her leg after entering the station. “I got you, bitch.” He watched her walk up to the ticket counter.
I wish this tape had audio.
He made note of the clerk's face that assisted Trenda and checked his watch.
I wonder if he works tonight?
He rewound the tape, put it back in its case and shut off the VCR.

He walked to Mrs. McMurray's office. “Did you find the person you were looking for?”

He shook his head. “No…there was no trace of the suspect.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

He gave her a false, disappointed look. “Thanks for your help. I'll be sure to note in my report how helpful you were.”

She beamed as he left. “If I can be of any further assistance, don't hesitate to ask!”

He walked to the lobby and went to the ticket window of the agent he'd seen Trenda buy her ticket from. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me.”

The frilly clerk gave Darius a flirtatious look. “I'll certainly try.”

Darius slid him the photo. “Do you remember seeing this woman a couple nights ago?”

The clerk looked at the picture, smacked his lips and slid it back to Darius. “Yes…I saw her the other night.”

“Do you remember where she was going?”

The clerk blushed as Darius smiled at him. “I can't tell you that.”

I knew this faggot muthafucka was gonna pull this shit.
Darius looked over his shoulder and saw no one behind him. He then broadened his smile, softened his eyes, placed his hand on the clerk's as it lay on the counter and sweetened his voice. “Are you
sure
you can't help me?”

The clerk giggled like a schoolgirl. “Nooooo, I can't…I really wish I could but I could get in trouble.”

Darius rubbed the clerk's hand. “C'mon, now. I won't tell.” He looked around and saw a family enter the train station. He was running out of time. “How about you tell me,” he read the clerk's name badge, “Orlando, and I come back and we go have a drink when you get off?”

Orlando laced his fingers in Darius's, smiled and whispered, “Are you
serious
?”

The family walked up behind Darius. He let go of Orlando's hand and licked his lips. “You know I am.”

Orlando wrote a few lines on a blank train ticket, flashed his tongue ring and slid the ticket to Darius. “There's the information on your train, sir. Enjoy your trip!”

Darius placed the ticket in his inside jacket pocket. “Thanks.” On the way out of the station, he removed the ticket and read it:

She took a train to the Jack London Square station in Oakland, California. Oh, and just for the record, my chocolate hunk, I loooove to spoil my man. I get off at one in the morning. My number's 410.555.9868. Cum back and get me.

Darius grimaced as he ripped up the ticket and tossed it in a trash
can in the parking lot.
Sick faggot fuck! I'm tempted to come back all right—come back and strangle your gay-ass!
He absently wiped the hand he'd use to hold Orlando's on his pant leg as he got in his Escalade.
So, that bitch went to the West Coast, huh?
He started the engine. “That ain't far enough, Trenda. Not far enough at all.”

T
hree days after leaving Baltimore, Trenda's train pulled into the Jack London Square station a little after 10:00 p.m. She shouldered her bag and walked out into the cool night air. Tendrils of fog danced in the starry sky.
So this is big, bad Oakland.
For a Monday night, there was a lot of traffic in the busy Jack London Square area of downtown Oakland. She looked around and spotted the Waters Edge Hotel within walking distance.
The first thing I need to do is find me a room.

“Hey, Mya! Wait up!”

Trenda whipped her head around and saw Box hustling his way toward her, with his cell phone to his ear. She smiled.
I knew he would turn up sooner or later after I put these lips on him.
“Wassup, Mr. Man?”

He slowed his stride as he closed in on her and put away his phone. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and returned her smile. “I've been looking for you all night! How are you?”

She adjusted the collar of her dark green, velour, Baby Phat sweatsuit as the cool air caused her nipples to rise. “I've been around. I thought you would be halfway home by now.”

“Now why would you say that?”

“You know you have to get home before your girl starts blowin' your phone up.”

He shook his head and smiled as he eyed her rigid nipples. “You kill me with that! I don't have to punch a relationship clock.”

Even in the dim light cast by the energy-efficient street lamps, she could see the growing lump in the crotch of his tan khaki pants. “Sure you don't.” She moved her head from side to side, stretching her neck. “Well, Mr. Box, I'm tired. Thanks for keeping me company on the trip.”

He unglued his eyes from her tits. “Where are you going to stay?”

“With my cousin. I'm waiting for her to get here. She's gonna pick me up in a few minutes.”

“Is there a way we can stay in touch—” His cell phone rang.

Trenda laughed and pointed at the phone clipped to his belt. “Ask
her
if it's cool for us to keep in touch.”

His smile waned after reading the number on the caller ID. He then let the call roll to his voicemail. “You are a real comedienne.” He took a step closer to her. “I'd
really
like to see you again, Mya.”

She looked down the street and saw the lights still on in the Barnes & Noble bookstore a few blocks away. She turned back to him.
He is just beggin' to get pussy whooped.
She gave him a flirty smile. “I'm not in the business of home wrecking,” she pinched his hairy cheek, “but you are cute…like a big ol' teddy bear.”

He let go of his suitcase, grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I want to see you again. You won't be sorry if we hook up, I promi—” His phone rang again. “Shit!”

She removed her hand from his as he angrily ignored the call and put the phone back on his hip. “You need to go handle your business, sweetie.” She looked at her watch. It was 10:21 p.m. “I have to go meet my cousin at Barnes & Noble.”

“Can I have your number?”

She zipped up her jacket, ending his view of her cleavage. “No… but I have your number. I might surprise you with a call one day.”

Dejection camped out on his face. “How can I change that ‘I
might
call' into an ‘I
will
call'?”

The blare of the train's horn as it prepared to leave the station briefly deafened them. “Your odds are good; you left a good taste in my mouth.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to pass out from the shock on his face. “Uhhh, wow!” He blushed like a teenager. “That's uhhh…that's real good to know.”

A taxi pulled up to the curb. “Hey, Mr., did you call for a cab?”

She looked at Box. “That must be your ride. I'll holla at you later.”

The cabbie got out, opened the trunk and waited as Box put his suitcase, garment bag and laptop inside. “Don't forget about me.”

She turned away from him. “Go home before your girl beats your ass.”

After the cab rolled past her, she cut across the street and headed for the Waters Edge Hotel.
Damn, it's gonna be nice to sleep in a real bed.
As she walked past Barnes & Noble, the smell of coffee coming from the Starbucks upstairs from the book store filled her nostrils.
If I wasn't so tired, I'd go get me a cup. After that long-ass train ride, all I wanna do is get some decent sleep, on a decent bed.

She felt the comfort of her butterfly knife in her jacket pocket as she crossed Jack London Square en route to the hotel. The salty sea air coming off the Bay replaced the aroma of fresh brewed coffee as she approached the lobby doors of the hotel. She entered and crossed the well-lit lobby and stopped at the reception desk. The sound of a hip-hop song at a very low volume greeted her instead of a person.
Where is the receptionist? I just know there has to be somebody workin' tonight.
She spotted a dome-shaped silver bell on the counter next to a rack full of brochures and maps of local events. She rang it twice.