Craving in My Belly

Sucking in my teeth, I grunted as I made my way up to the driveway to the house. I didn't necessarily want to be there, but I had to pay my respects, plus I needed to go ahead and pump his mother for some details. If there's nothing more truer, Moms know their children, all too well.

The day was a beautiful one, shining yellow streams of light and my skin bubbled with delight at the heat.

Looking at the houses that lined up the streets of South Shore, I definitely thought the townhouses surprised me. If you coast the streets of the community, you found pockets of the hood and the elite. From where I stood I could say that the elite lived in the pretty townhouse community directly across from the South Shore Cultural Center. Although, the condominium was fairly new, it was so pretty and very beautiful. The accessibility to downtown loop was available through Chicago's Metra system, and there was a lot of restaurants, including 5 Loaves, which was great place to eat some soulful food.

Sometimes after a case, Cris, Jasmine and I would drop into the Jazz BYOB event, which was a fish fry on Friday nights. Casually, I pulled my black braids back and patted the French roll I had twisted them into before leaving the house. I wanted to at least look half way decent at the house. His mother sure was a perfectionist and I had hoped my jazzy black two-piece Gionne suit would be acceptable. Bad enough it took me over 2 hours to get here. This place wasn't that far from the house, but I had spent most of the morning preparing to see the family. I took a hot bath filled it with milk and lemons as to relax myself. Pampered my body with African oils that I smoothed over my legs and arms. Then I rubbed Mac makeup over my flawless skin, lined my eyes perfectly as I dabbed a nice shimmery gloss over my full lips. I dug out the silver earrings that dangled on my ears and smiled. Grandma gave them to me when I was little and I never wore them, so it was nice to bring her energy along with me on this day. I spent a lot of time to look very snazzy and I hoped that the efforts would be appreciated. Shaking my head, I laughed at myself. If Miles were alive he would be proud but surprised.

Stepping quickly in front of the multi-colored townhouse, I felt a presence behind me, but I shrugged it off, and took my finger and pushed the bell timidly. It felt like bubbling was inside of my stomach but I don't know why. Ignoring the feeling, I stood there as the cool wind caressed my skin. Gripping on my black leather coat, I toyed with the button and closed it fully. Then tenseness filled my body and my feet tapped on the hard ground impatiently.

In a split second, turning on my heel, I craned my neck to see if someone was behind me and I heard a series of hard footsteps tap themselves away. A strong feeling of uneasiness crawled up to my neck as I waited for the door to open. Maybe someone was running down the street. Turning back towards the door, two hands suddenly grabbed me from behind and I kicked my high heels into the huge body that first grabbed me, trying to stab the dark figure. Whoever had followed me wasn't playing. I twisted from side to side trying to get out of the iron grip and to no avail. I heard a dark voice whisper angrily, "Man, get her out of here."

I tried to scream but my small mouth had been covered in mere minutes. An awful smell omitted from the thick fingers that covered my mouth. Gasping for breath, I sucked in the poison and struggled to breath, while digging my nails into the first person's arms. He moaned, "Damn, man. Hurry up!" I was thrown into a speeding van, shoved in the backseat of it, where boxes littered the space. The screech of the wheels was the last sound ringing in my ear as I struggled with the intruders who snapped me up within minutes. The second burly man was strapping me down with his entire huge body and I was left wondering, who the hell had taken me and why?

With the poisonous smell from the white hand cloth covering it, I fainted into nothingness.

Grunting, I feared the worse when I opened my eyes within a dark cold room. Clueless of time and location, I was amazingly calm. My private investigators energy had awakened from slumber. Whoever had caught me, didn't know who they were dealing with. But they would see. I adjusted my eyes to the black room and craned my ears to survey the location for sounds. There was nothing. No television blaring. My tender fingers felt around my arms and found two strong knots binding them. I was totally stuck, damn. I tried to pull one knot off, but it cut deeper into my skin and I could feel the blood rushing to that area, so I stopped, and waited.

"Hey, lady…" a heavy voice spoke to me through a creeked door.

I stood still and chose not to open my lips. I blankly stared ahead.

"I said, open your damn mouf, bitch!" A burly six-foot two inch brother with a nappy afro appeared and along with him blinding light as the two appeared in full person to me. Gone were the black hats, body gear and gloves that I observed the day earlier. The guy that stood before me was at least two-hundred and ninety pounds and could have been either a bouncer or a former football player. He tugged on his black jeans that hung dangerously below his fully spread ass and I had to stifle a giggle at his bare chest for he had titties at least the size of 40 GG's. That man knew he wasn't that fine to be wearing no shirt. If he didn't know I sure didn't want to be the one to break the news to him. The look in his dilated eyes told me all I knew. The man wasn't nothing to play with. In his hand was a shiny black pistol that trembled when he soaked in my presence and stared as if I should know why he needed me here. His counterpart was much more slimmer white guy, about one hundred sixty-five pounds. He was wearing a torn up pair of jeans ripped at the knees with a oversized white tee shirt with a low fade to the dome, and a pair of silver earrings dangling from both his ears. He looked like a rip off of Eninem. The pair of them together felt so forced and unreal. The chill and fatigue of the whole episode seeped into my bones and I sighed.

I turned my face away from the light and shut my eyes tight. I didn't want to see neither of these men. They looked totally weird and I couldn't place them. In my head, all I could do was just imagine I was somewhere near Grandma's grave. My heart was beating out of control and the pulse on my throat was jumping staccato style.

With my eyes closed I heard shifting of chairs and felt them moving me in the center of the space. The air shifted as they moved me and I heard another mad shouting from the burly guy.

"Open your damn mouf!" His southern flavored words chopped syllable by syllable and I cut evil brown eyes as my eyes were sprung open at him daring him to do more than scare me with his words.

A hard slap to my soft skin woke me to the reality these brothers were not playing. "Uh!" Flinching as a second whipping punch from his closed palm hit my face, I allowed myself to speak on his command. Seething with rage, "Yes" escaped my lips as I directed a glob of liquid on his white athletic shoes. My questioning brown eyes clashed with his dark mysterious remote ones daring him to slap me again.

"She's a hot one here." His hands lingered on my white shirt, and slightly parted them as he tried to pinch one of my nipples, but I flinched back.
"For a thick sister she's fine as hell too." I ignored the comment as I stared ahead like a robot.
"Shut up fool." He paused as he grabbed a hold of my long braids caressing them with his nasty hands. He then pulled me towards him as if I was his bitch and we were about to do the damn thing. I could smell the faint aroma of Crown Royal seeping from his opened mouth as he spit more words at me part of me wanted to flinch back and tell his ass to wash that damn mouth and freshen it up a bit. "Bitch you better watch where you put your spit. I'll make you swallow your whole tongue" His voice boomed in the semi-empty room. He took two thick fingers and grabbed my braids, twisted them in a tighter hold, and brought us face to face. I wanted to breath away from his stinky mouth as the bile was rising in my mouth. My face was stony and numb with rage.

Since I gave him no response, he shook my body with controlled anger, as if to break me in two with rough hands that seemed to hotly burn her thinly clad body. He held back as he slightly gave me room to breath briefly. Rattling my cages a bit, he began to shake my chair. The old wood chair crackled as if if wanted to break under his touch. Coming closer to my mouth, his bruised lips pursed as he asked a lingering question. "So, Lisa Walker, where is the Pink Flamingo?" Waiting for a response, he smiled and insecurity crawled from my belly through the neck to my lips.

Walker Investigations was a bevy of activity and Christina Norman was in the thick of it. Serving as Lisa's backup and conducting all the field work when she was not there, was a plate full for single mom who was struggling. Cris twirled her tapping fingers as she listened to the timber of Walter's voice as he tried to soothe a new client who was trying to get dirt on her husband and just wasn't patient enough to wait for the evidence to come back. Another crazy cheating husband case. Those women always rang the phones off the hook. Thank god this week had garnered Walker Investigations getting a lot of great cases including couple of homicides and of course Miles's murder fell in their lap on Monday, just killing the rest of the cases, on human hours alone. Jasmine was currently interviewing Miles's neighbors and following up on some leads into his background. Straightening up her messy desk, Cris stacked all new client requests in her red incoming manila folder and nervously tapped her newly polished shiny red nails. Lifting a cup of steaming coffee to her pouty lips she grimaced as the hot liquid burned her tongue. Grunting, she hurriedly placed it on the desk as she waved fingers in her face and grabbed her water bottle and downed cold water to sooth her hot tongue. It had been a few days since Miles's murder and no one had seen Lisa. It was strange and sad at the same time. Even though Lisa never went into detail about Miles, it seemed that she had finally found a man who could actually deal with her complexity. Now, he's murdered and she's missing and we need to find her as soon as possible. With all the prints that were found at the scene, it seemed as if Lisa might have been one of the last people to see him alive and that wasn't good. Not that she was a suspect in his death, it just seemed too much of a coincidence that she would be missing at the same time.

No matter what, Cris knew that Lisa was a good woman in her heart. She just missed Lisa's stern and serious attitude. Being that Walker Investigations was her company, the heart of the company wasn't there and the energy in the small but comfortable office located on the south east side of the city was missing an important element.

Patting her fly afro, Cris peeked into her junky purse which consisted of a pink baby lotion, keys, a small journal, her Cingular cellular phone, and scrawled notes from her daughter Samantha. Even though her baby daddy was a trip and then some, that two-year old angel made it all worth it. Cris stood up and forgot all about her coffee and what she was previously searching for, because Walter tapped her on the shoulder and got her attention quickly.

"We need to get over to Englewood." His eyebrows raised while facing Cris giving her an uneasy feeling.
"Why?" Her questioning voice said. She stopped her typing suddenly and swirled her chair to face him.
"Some more dead bodies showed up in the hood and of course, those fancy firms don't want to take the case, so we got it." Walter chuckled softly patting down his pants as if to search for something.
"Damn, I wanted to go home. Do we need to leave now?" Her voice wailed as frustration set in and she knew damn well Sammy would be upset yet again. She'd have to call her mother to pick her up from school. "Okay." Pausing as she rubbed her tired brown eyes she asked, "Can I make a short call before we roll over to the scene?" She flipped open her purse and got her fingers pulsed to dial her very conservative motherYvette.
"Yes, go ahead."Walter began clearing his desk, and grabbing his twenty-key chain to leave. "I'll warm up the car, just come on out and lock up, okay"
Trying to look like she was happy, she lifted her smile and nodded as she speed dialed her mom, hoping she wouldn't complain yet again about her daughter's work hours.
"Will do."

Driving with a steady beat down Lake Shore Drive with blue skies that hung low and heavy as if about to give birth to a treacherous storm, Walter stay focused on the steady stream of cars ahead of him. His seasoned 1979 Chevy Cadillac zoomed along the highway. The car had been with him for a long time; since the days when he worked for US Steel company and was a married man to his beloved Delores. Those were the simply beautiful days. Shaking the thoughts, his thick hands gripped the wheels with a force of a man who's seen it all and done it all. Cris silently sipped on her remaining coffee while waiting for them to arrive to 63rd and Woods, near Harper High School where several bodies had piled up in the neighborhood. Residents complained of aroma from a green garbage container behind the school. Cris found it strange that the so-called police survey cameras didn't pick up any of the activity on the street. Isn't that what the stupid blue lights were for?

Oh, maybe they just catch niggers who are smoking up some weed, instead of catching some real criminals? She shook her head and smiled to herself, though she wasn't really happy about the thoughts. Hard stare appeared across her face and she sighed.

"What's wrong?" Walter asked. He paused, then found a parking spot in front of the school and slid his car in.
"Just wondering why the hell the police never catch people doing real crimes with those blue security lights. They're just about on every corner." She sipped the last of her coffee and saw the dark remnants at the bottom with sugary sweetness stuck. "I mean, why the hell we get the calls about this?"
"We get the calls because the people in the hood trust us." He shut off the engine and placed his keys in his already full pocket of coins, gum, and receipts.

Walking quickly to the back of the high school, Walter lead the way. Cris followed and tried to keep up with his quick paces as she saw a series of bodies littering the alley, with bloody mouths, cuts and bruises on half-clothed bodies. She shook her head as she took out her investigation kit which included gloves and forensic tools.

Encasing her fingers with plastic gloves, she shook her head as she observed white substance on the lips of the first victim. Wiping the substance off his lips with a cotton swab, she placed the remnants of it, inside an empty container and sealed it. "Umm, Walter do you know what this is?"

Looking down to my damaged black high heels which had scratches on them, I just mumbled under my breath hoping this nightmare would end. My tongue was dry as the sand at Rainbow Beach Park and my throat thirsted for some liquid. Oh, Jesus.

My bones ached awfully, and after going through an afternoon of grilling about the Pink Flamingo, my mind was stretched. It's kind of hilarious because I don't know who these jokers were and them grilling me about some Pink Flamingo aren't helping things much. My brain was blank, and I was totally spent after hours of being slapped and taunted by both men. The white guy, was in the corner watching me like a hawk while the healthier man had gone out for something to eat.

I only knew it was night because the dark clouds had returned and the traffic had stopped. All I could hear was an eerie quietness that crept close to me like a ghost flowing through my spirit. My grumbling stomach reminded me that I had not eaten in almost two days. An itchy scalp and hair that begged me to touch it, were ignored as my hands were bound with tape, still.

I was getting mad. Wanting to get to sleep or something but my hawk-like eyes peeled the white guy nonchalantly. At the first sign of his eyelids drooping, I began my slow descent, silently moving my left hand as I tried to unloosen the knot. Snores came from the right side of the room where the white guy was perched on the ledge of a dilapidated brown couch that had seen its better days. Snippets of the cloth were torn on the arm rests and in the middle of it a hole was covered by a white sheet. Since he was in the throngs of a restful slumber, I was able to unclapse my left arm which had been bound for hours along with the other one.

Freeing the second knot silently, I sighed quietly but raised my tired body out of the chair, not even tipping it over. Out of the corner of my eye I surveyed the rest of the room looking for a way out. In life, an opportunity presents itself and when it does you better take it.

Bending with swiftness of a tiger, I slid my feet out of the high heels and tenderly placed my feet on the cold hard cemented ground as I tip toed around to the door, hoping I could make it free. The white guy stopped snoring suddenly and I paused. My body reacted as the pulsing towards my inner thighs increased the pressure on my captive urine which wanted to break free. I felt a heaviness between my thighs and said a silent prayer that it would not begin descending unconsciously.

He continued to snore and I exhaled in relief. My hand perched on the door knob as I searched the room for my purse and I saw it near the white guy's leg. Damn, I was almost out! Do I risk waking up the fool or should I just leave while the coast is clear?

I still had not figured out what location I was stashed at and might need my cellular phone so I could call Walter. He'd know what to do. Second nature spoke to me and chanted do not leave…so, I slithered my way over to the couch where the guy was sleeping. My black purse was right by his leg and I was almost able to silently scoot the purse over when I heard a chorus of voices from the lower part of the building coming up to our level. I made a mad dash for the purse, grabbed it and knocked out the white guy when he yelped towards me pushing away his frail body with two swift kicks in the groin. Momentarily, he was stunned, but then he got his barings and rushed towards me again with a long silver knife that had jagged edges. We rustled to the ground, with my braids flying over my face, where I almost couldn't see him. Through my braids, I viewed him limping and dragging his left leg, but pointing the sharp knife at me. He kept pulsing towards me. Taunting me. I nearly missed the last jab as he got dangerously close to my neck with the knife. With a groan, he swiped the knife on my left cheek, which began to profusely bleed. Scared out of my mind, I pushed him with all my force and knocked the knife out of his hands. Then I placed my body on top of his, as fear gripped me and propelled me toward a finality. Unsure of the outcome, I took a semi-shaky hand and forcefully squeezed his throat until blood ran through my fingers and he collapsed. Shocked, I panted hysterically and stared at the blood on my hands and at the body at my feet. Not sure what to do, I tried unsuccessfully to push him around the couch so I let his body lay there and blood began seeping all over the floor. His body was heavier than a thousand bricks so I just left him at the front of the couch where I had killed him.

My fingers were dripping with redness and I rubbed the remnants of it on my black suit pants and ignored the smell of death as I tried to make my next move.

Throwing the purse on my aching shoulder, with fingers that knew the inside of the purse with no light, I was finally able to find my 38 caliber. My baby was in my fingers and I sighed a relief. Clasping it close around my fatigued fingers, I held it close to my chest as I moved my body against the wall, listening for the voices to come into the room. My heart was beating like firecrackers on the fourth of July and I gaped open my mouth for air, so I could at least breath.

Creeping around the room like a snake, I searched for a hiding place but could not find one. Waiting for the inevitable, I listened for the creak of the door which I was on the other side of. I braced myself for the worse.

Best case scenario, maybe Mr. Burly would come ramming through the door and I could use the gun as leverage. Worse case scenario that two men would barrel the door down and I'd be shit out of luck. If God's listening to me, then I can get a free pass at least to the door so I can jet like Fly Flo Jo.

(c) 2006 by Pam Osbey