Animal 2 (8 page)

“I got life in a cage for you if you don't tell me something good,” Alvarez threatened.

“Detective, I know it's a shortage of real niggaz for y'all to lock up, but it's a sad day for law enforcement when the best you can do to get me off the streets is try to build a case off a bag of weed.” Ashanti laughed.

“I ain't talking about weed, dipshit. I'm talking about murder.” Alvarez slid several pictures across the table to Ashanti.

Ashanti was still grinning when he leaned over to look at the pictures, but the grin quickly faded when he saw himself in one of them.

“Cain Collins.” Detective Brown read from the folder containing Cain's rap sheet. “Grand larceny, assault, possession, grand theft auto . . . the list goes on. At seventeen, you've got a longer rap sheet than men twice your age. Your mother must be proud.”

Cain simply rolled his eyes and remained silent.

“Who was the other guy that was with you, the one who ran off?”

Cain shrugged.

“The strong, silent type, huh? Funny, I'd have taken you more for the pretty boy,” Brown said, taunting Cain.

Cain's muscles tensed as if he wanted to spring, but he kept his cool.

“Oh, you don't like people talking about your little beauty
mark?” Brown reached to touch Cain's scar, and he jerked away.

“Keep your fucking hands off me!” Cain spit.

“Shut up, lil' nigga. You ain't calling the shots around here. I am.” Brown jumped to his feet. “Now, you keep shooting that smart mouth off, and I'm gonna knock your teeth down your throat.”

Cain looked up at the detective. “Is this the part where I'm supposed to get scared? You ain't 'bout shit, toy cop!”

Brown grabbed Cain by the neck and yanked him out of the chair. “There's that big-ass mouth of yours again.” He gave Cain a good shake. Cain drew his fist back to strike, but before he could follow through, Brown had his gun drawn and pointed at his temple. “Go right ahead. Give me a reason to splatter you, sucka!” Cain wisely calmed down. “That's what I thought, muthafucka.” He shoved Cain back down in the chair and sat back down himself.

“What the fuck you want from me, man?” Cain asked with an attitude.

“I want you to die in the fucking gutter, but I know I ain't gonna get that, so I'll settle for a name.” He slid a picture across the table to Cain.

Cain looked at the picture. “Who the fuck is that?” He faked ignorance. He didn't know the man in the picture's name, but he knew his face.

“That's the muthafucka you and your cronies put to sleep a few days ago,” Brown said.

Cain looked at the officer in disbelief. “Nigga, you got me fucked up. I don't know nothing about no murder, and if I did, what the fuck makes you think I'd tell you?”

“The same reason they all tell me, son. You don't wanna grow old in prison. See, you think you're hot shit because you're running with that little scum-fuck Ashanti, but you ain't really 'bout that life. I know a killer when I see one. Ashanti, that kid is a murderer, but not you. You sweet, youngster. I can smell the sugar coming all off you.”

“Fuck outta here with that shit,” Cain said, trying to keep his anger in check.

“What, you mad? Like I give a fuck. If you're really mad, get your black ass up outta that chair and do something,” Brown said, challenging him. Cain remained seated. “Just like I thought, pussy. Now, you can play that gangsta shit all you want, but I know your monkey ass. I see dozens of fuck-tards like you on a daily basis. Angry little piss-ants, born to less-than-shit-ass parents who were either too lazy or too dumb to use birth control, so it falls to good citizens like us to clean up their bullshit.”

“You don't know shit about me,” Cain spat.

“Oh, but I know enough. You're the son of a two-bit crack whore, who'd rather suck dick for a blast than make sure you ate a decent meal at night.” Brown laughed mockingly.

The truth in Brown's words cut Cain like a hot knife and sent him into a rage. Without even thinking about it, he was on his feet and leaping across the table. Brown was caught by surprise, so the first blow hit him square in the chin and knocked him out of the chair.

“Bullshit.” Ashanti slid the pictures back across the table. He had almost shit his pants when Alvarez said they were pinning
a murder on him. He just knew when he looked at that picture that he'd see Percy's pretty ass staring back at him, but it wasn't. It was someone else.

“
Real
shit, my friend. You were one of the last people to be seen with Rick Jenkins, and we got the picture, so don't try to run game like you don't know this cat.” Detective Alvarez jabbed his finger at the picture.

Ashanti didn't know the victim personally, but he had seen him at a dice game a few nights before. He had a big month and seemed shifty but hadn't done anything to Ashanti personally, so there was no need to even talk to him, let alone kill him. The only reason Ashanti even remembered him was because Zo kept asking about him.

“Man, just because you got a picture of me with him doesn't mean I killed him,” Ashanti said.

“Oh, I know you didn't kill him, it isn't your MO. You like big automatics; this guy was killed by a revolver . . . a .357, to be exact,” Alvarez informed him.

When the uniformed officers rushed into the room, they found Cain on top of Detective Brown, choking the life out of him. The first officer who tried to pull Cain off was rewarded with an elbow to the nose, sending blood flying. Within seconds, the officers dog-piled on Cain.

“Hold that muthafucka up,” Brown ordered. The uniformed officers held Cain up with his arms pinned behind his back. “You got a nice right hook, kid, but mine is better.” He punched Cain in the face. He followed up with two blows to the ribs.

“No more, man! I'll talk. Just don't hit me anymore,” Cain said. His lip was bloody, and he looked woozy.

“That's what the fuck I thought. Now, tell me something good,” Brown said, standing nose-to-nose with Cain.

“A'ight, it went down like this . . .” Cain began, then spit his blood into Brown's face.

“You piece of shit!” Brown roared, and started raining punches down on Cain. Brown and the uniformed officers gave Cain an ass-whipping that he'd remember for a long time. He thought they were going to kill him, until someone came into the room, and the beating abruptly stopped.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” the police captain asked. His white shirt was crisp, the gold badge on his chest freshly polished.

“The suspect attacked me,” Brown informed the captain.

“Bullshit, and you know it. This toy cop and his partner jacked me and my homie up for no reason. Then, when I wouldn't sign a confession for something I didn't do, he pulled his gun and threatened to kill me.”

“Is this true?” the captain asked Brown.

“Cap, you gonna take his word over all of ours?” Brown motioned to the uniformed officers. They would surely back up his lie.

“You ain't gotta take my word for it, just ask the eye in the sky.” Cain nodded to the security camera in the corner above the door.

Brown had completely forgotten that they'd installed the new cameras in some of the interrogation rooms. “Look, Cap, I can explain—”

“Save it.” The captain raised his hand to silence him. He
pulled the detective to the side and whispered to him. “What do you have him in for?”

“Right now, him and his buddy are in for weed, but—”

“All this for some fucking weed? Have you lost your mind, Detective?” The captain looked like he wanted to smack the detective.

“Sir, he is also a person of interest in a murder,” Brown explained.

“And this was the best way for you to start your investigation? I've told you and your partner about this Nazi shit before, Brown. The last thing we need is more bad press on the NYPD.” He turned to Cain. “Sir, do you require medical attention?”

“Nah, I'm straight.” Cain wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It's my duty to ask if you would like to press charges against this detective for striking you.”

“Cap, you can't be serious!” Brown was in disbelief.

“Shut up, Brown. Sir,” he said to Cain, “do you want to press charges?”

Cain thought about it. “Nah, where I'm from, blacks don't send blacks to jail.”

“Fine.” The captain nodded. “Brown, get this kid cleaned up, and turn him and his friend loose. Then I want to see you and your partner in my office.”

“Yes, sir,” Brown grudgingly agreed. When the captain left, he turned his attention back to Cain. “You're lucky, but luck only goes so far. I'm gonna see you again, nigga. Count on that.”

“I hope so, because next time, the playing field will be even.” Cain made his fingers into the shape of a gun and pointed it at the detective.

“Get this piece of shit out of here before I kill him,” Brown ordered the uniformed officers.

“By that dumb-ass look on your face, I can tell you know something, so you might as well spill the beans,” Detective Alvarez said with a smug grin.

“I ain't seen shit, and I don't know shit.” Ashanti folded his arms.

“Ashanti, you and I both know this is bullshit. You might not have pulled the trigger, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know who did. All I need you to do is say his name so I can lock his ass up and turn you loose.”

Ashanti gave the detective a disbelieving look. “Man, you really got me fucked up. Since when you ever known me to be anything other than a stand-up nigga? I'm afraid I won't be of any help to you on this one,
Detective
.”

Alvarez knew threatening Ashanti wouldn't do any good, so he tried another tactic. “What are you, eighteen now?”

“Nineteen,” Ashanti corrected him.

“You're just a baby, but by the time you come out of prison for this, you'll be an old man. You really wanna take that kind of weight for something you didn't do? Now, you and I both know you didn't pull that trigger, but this picture of you and the victim don't look good. I think I can build a pretty solid case with it. What do you think?”

“I think you need to stop trying to bullshit a bullshitter. If that were true, you'd have me in here for murder instead of weed. Now, stop insulting me, fam. You keep saying you
want me to talk, so I'm gonna talk. Get me a fucking lawyer!” Ashanti demanded. He knew once he invoked his right to counsel, it would bring their little interrogation to an end and buy him some time. He needed to get word to Zo about what was going on.

“OK, tough guy, we'll do this your way,” Alvarez said.

There was a knock on the interrogation-room door, and a few seconds later, it came open, and Detective Brown poked his head in. “I need to holla at you, Jay.”

Alvarez spared Ashanti one more glance before getting up and stepping outside with his partner. Through the door, Ashanti could hear raised voices. Something was going on, and he wasn't sure what, which made him nervous. Five minutes later, Alvarez came back into the room, and he didn't look pleased.

“Raise up,” Alvarez ordered.

“What's going on?” Ashanti asked suspiciously.

“I'm cutting you loose,” the detective said through clenched teeth. He undid the handcuffs and yanked Ashanti to his feet.

“I guess it's true what they say,” Ashanti said.

“And what's that?” Alvarez asked.

“The sun even shines on a dog's ass at least once.” Ashanti smirked.

“Get the fuck out of here before you turn up missing.” Alvarez shoved Ashanti toward the door.

“OK, I'm going.” Ashanti headed for the door. “You have a good one, Detective,” he said over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Ashanti! You think you're getting away, but nigga, you're on borrowed time. This isn't over, not by a fucking long shot! And you tell your boy Zo-Pound that
I'm coming for him. You hear me? Tell that muthafucka I'm coming!”

•  •  •

When Ashanti got outside, he was surprised to find Cain sitting on a police car talking to Fatima. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, so you could see her features: high cheeks, full lips, and perfectly sculpted chin. She was a fly little chick who lived in the neighborhood Ashanti and his crew did dirt in. She was only five-five, but the wedge boots she wore gave her two inches. She paced back and forth, shaking her head from side to side, causing her big door-knocker earrings to rattle. Her hands moved fluidly as she spoke heatedly to Cain. It seemed like the more she talked, the redder her face got. She was in her feelings.

The first to spot Ashanti coming out of the precinct was Cain. He abruptly stopped talking to Fatima and moved to meet Ashanti at the bottom of the stairs. “Glad to see you out.” He extended his hand. Ashanti ignored it, eyes locked on Fatima.

“Did you call her?” Ashanti asked.

“Nah, when I walked out, she was on her way in. I thought you called her,” Cain said honestly.

“How did you know?” Ashanti asked Fatima.

“You know how the ghetto grapevine works.” Fatima hugged him. “When I heard they had my man hemmed up, you know I had to come down and see what was good.”

“No doubt.” Ashanti grinned. Fatima was a rider. She was young, wild, and loyal, just like him. Their union was almost perfect.

“What did they want with you?” Fatima asked.

Ashanti shrugged. “Just some bullshit. I had weed on me when they rolled.”

Fatima's expression said she didn't believe him. “Ashanti, Cain already told me half the story, so you can fill me in, or I'll get it from the streets. Talk to me, baby.”