Sins of a Siren (18 page)

“That may be true, but we are never too busy for our baby.”

Her right eye twitched with agitation. She longed for the day her parents stopped treating her like a toddler. “Mom, I'm going to San Francisco. I'll give you a call once I get there.”

Her mother paused. “Okay, but your father isn't going to be too happy.”

“Mom, it's only gonna be a few days…it's not like I'm moving there.”

“He may need to have you here as the police investigate your case. You know he has every cop in the city working on it.”

Piper put the keys in the ignition, sat back, closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. “I know…I hear from them almost every friggin' day. It seems they aren't getting anywhere.”

“These things take time. And the more accessible you are the better. You never know when they may catch that little whore, Trenda, and need you to identify her.”

These fucking dumb cops have no idea she is on the West Coast, Mother.
“She could be anywhere. If they do catch her, I'm sure they can find a way to hold her until I can make a positive ID.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on going to California? Did you meet a boy there?”

Piper almost laughed out loud.
If you only knew I haven't been with a man in over ten years, you would have a stroke
. “No, Mother.
I did not meet a boy there. I just want to get away from all this crap for a while.”

Her mother sighed. “Well, if you just
have
to go, at least promise you will call me once a day so I can know you're okay.”

Piper started the engine and turned on the wipers. She'd made it to the car just as a spring shower erupted. “Okay, I'll call.”

“When are you leaving?”

“In a couple of days. I have a few things to take care of first.”

“Don't forget to pack your medicine and eye drops.”

Piper felt her blood pressure building. “Mother, I
am
…I know what I need. Talk to you later.” She folded her phone closed, tossed it on the passenger seat and turned up the speed of her windshield wipers. “I swear she gets on my last nerve sometimes.” Back at her apartment, she went to her desk and found the sheet of paper she had gotten from Tyrone with Trenda's information on it. She dialed the number.

“Hello?”

She picked up the picture of her and Trenda celebrating Trenda's birthday last year at a popular local Mexican food restaurant. She recalled how she ate Trenda out for hours that night. “Eric?”

“Yes, that's me. Is this you, Piper?”

“Yes. I just got off the phone with a private investigator I hired to find Trenda. He found her still in Oakland. I'm going to book my flight there tonight.”

Tyrone put down his hamburger and swallowed the French fry in his mouth. “When are you leaving?”

She scowled at the picture, then placed it back on the table, face down. “I'm hoping to leave in a day or two. The sooner the better.”

He folded his hamburger in a napkin and tossed it back into the bag with his fries. “Piper, can I call you right back? I need to make a quick call.”

“Whatever. I have things to do.”

He listened to her hang up on him. “What a bitch!” He then picked up his food, walked past the life-sized cardboard image of a Burger King and called Darius. “Yo, Piper is getting ready to book a flight to Oakland.”

Darius watched as Griff's workers mounted a set of expensive chrome rims onto his Escalade. “Did she say when she was leaving?”

“She didn't. But she did tell me she hired a P.I. that found Trenda in Oakland. I told her I was gonna call her back in a minute.”

Darius walked across the oil-stained floor and exited the garage. He flipped up the collar of his leather jacket in an attempt to ward off the chilly breeze and last gasp of the short spring shower. “Call her back and tell her you might be going to Oakland, too, lookin' for Trenda. See if she'll give you all her travel info.”

“Man, I really don't feel like talkin' to her crazy ass again…she sounds like she is ready to snap.”

“You want this shit over, don't you?”

“Yeah, but…you don't know how twisted this Piper chick is. She is literally out her damn mind.”

Darius spit the toothpick out of his mouth into a dirty puddle of rainwater. “Do I need to remind you of what will happen if Internal Affairs finds Trenda before we do?”

Tyrone hesitated, then exhaled loudly. “Okay, okay. Lemme call her back. I'll hit you up later.”

“Cool.” Darius disconnected and tucked the phone into the pocket of his jacket.
Don't get soft on me now, partner. We are in way too deep for you to pussy-out now.
He walked back into the garage just as Griff's men lowered his Escalade from the lift and checked
the tightness of the lug nuts on his new rims. He looked at Griff as he opened the door and got into the vehicle. “Your boys do good work; you need to give 'em a raise.”

Griff glared at him in silence and gnawed on the butt of his cigar. He then turned, pressed a button on the wall and the roll-up door began opening. He stood to the side as Darius reversed and saluted Griff on his way out. Griff removed his cigar and spat in his direction. “You gonna get yours, crooked muthafucka.”

Darius, fueled by adrenaline, sped across the wet, four-lane Harbor Tunnel Thruway, en route to the Baltimore Harbor area. He needed to relieve some stress so he could think clearly and plan his next move. In a particularly insalubrious neighborhood, he soon spotted the solution to his stress relief issue.
She ain't half as good as Trenda, but what the fuck.
He removed the portable red siren light from his glove box, plugged it in and placed it on the dash. He then slowly rolled up to the curb behind a pair of big booty females strolling down the sidewalk, sharing a large, red-and-white umbrella. He tapped the horn and both women stopped and looked at the shiny Escalade. He lowered the passenger window. “Good evening, ladies.”

Both women frowned and shook their heads. The dark-skinned woman in the long black wig leaned over. “What you want? We ain't doin' nothin'.”

Darius quickly scanned the area. Satisfied the coast was clear, he turned his attention to the slim woman with the gold front teeth. “C'mon now, Cherry, you know I'm just checkin' on you.”

She rolled her eyes and chewed her gum faster. “Uh-huh, sure you are.”

He waved her to the side. “I need to speak to your friend, Constance.”

Reluctantly, Constance the “Cum Catcher,” as she was known
in the streets, exhaled cigarette smoke, bent over, swiped her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her back and looked into the window. “Yeah, what do you want with me?”

Darius looked into her blue eyes. “I need to ask you a few questions.” He patted the empty passenger seat. “C'mon…take a ride with me.”

She furrowed her brow and pulled at the hem of her lime-green micro miniskirt. “Why are you fuckin' with me? All I'm doin' is walkin' down the street with my friend. Is that a crime, now?”

He gave her a serious look. “No it's not, but I bet if I was to search you, I'd find a joint or weed seed on you. You know it would look real bad if your probation officer found out about that, wouldn't it?”

Constance looked over at Cherry and grimaced. “I had better go. Even though I'm clean, I'm sure ‘Officer Friendly' here would magically find some contraband on me.”

Cherry stepped back from the car and adjusted her extremely short, bright yellow shorts. “Yeah, you right. He is good at that trick.”

Constance flicked her half-smoked cigarette into the street, tucked her pack of Newport cigarettes into her thigh-high black boots, opened the door and got inside. “So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

He removed the beacon from the dashboard and put it back in the glove compartment. “I'll tell you in a minute. We're gonna go someplace
private
and talk.”

Constance sat back and crossed her arms over her huge tits. “Oh, I see you are taking me to the ‘Lighthouse.'”

He grinned and sped off. “I see you have a good memory.” Twenty minutes later, he unlocked the gate at the “Lighthouse” and pulled around back. He unzipped his pants, looked over and watched Constance remove a red scrunchie from her small black
purse and tie her hair back into a ponytail. He stopped her before she bent over into his lap. “You used to run with Trenda…she ever say anything going to California?”

She cocked her head. “What?”

“I said, did Trenda ever say anything to you about going to California or mention having any friends or relatives there?”

“No…why are you asking me anyway?”

Darius grabbed her by the back of the neck. “Look, bitch, I know you and her were tight. I busted both of you together a couple of times for possession on one of her drug runs. Don't fuckin' play with me.”

Fear replaced her boldness as she read the anger in his glare. “Owww! That
hurts
!”

His dick swelled once he saw her cockiness evaporate. He kept his grip on her neck. “The pain stops when you tell me what I wanna know. Now, answer my fuckin' question.”

He added pressure to his grip. She winced. “No…she never told me anything about going to California or anywhere else.”

He held her neck and read her face for signs she was lying. Satisfied, he eased off the pressure and pushed her head into his lap. “Make yourself useful.”

The feel of her lips on his swollen head made him lean back in his seat with pleasure. Normally, a blowjob would put him in a good mood, but as he fucked Constance in the throat, a sense of doom shadowed him. The thought of getting fired, or worse, going to jail, fueled his thrust. He ignored Constance's gags and forced his knob deeper into her mouth. The image of his cute but boring-in-bed wife taking half his shit made him pump harder with frustration. Seconds later, he shuddered and squirted thick, sticky woo juice down the Cum Catcher's throat. She gulped it all down and sucked out the residue.

He released her head and she sprung up, gasping for air. She
grimaced and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Can we go now?”

He looked into her face and watched the blood slowly leave her flushed face. He put away his sperm worm and zipped up. “Sure can.”

He started the car, turned on the headlights and drove out to the street. After locking the gate, he drove a few blocks and stopped at the corner bus stop. She stopped applying her red lipstick and looked at him. “Why are you stopping?”

He put the car in “park,” reached into his pocket, pulled out some cash and tucked a five-dollar bill into her bra. “This is where you get off. I gotta go.”

She glared at him. “This is fucked up!” She got out, slammed the door and walked away.

Before he pulled off, his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered. “What's the latest?”

“I just got off the phone with Piper. She is flying out to Oakland tomorrow afternoon.”

Fuck! That crazy bitch is movin' fast!
“Okay, good lookin' out. I'm gonna go home and see if I arrange to get there around the same time.”

“What you gonna tell ya wife? You know Beverly ain't gonna be happy with you just up and flyin' across country.”

“I'm gonna tell her I'm going fishing with my brother. Besides, we have been on bad terms for a while now; she most likely won't give a damn.”

“I sure hope that works. Worrying about this shit is making my ulcer act up.”

He pulled into his driveway, thankful his wife's car wasn't there, parked, and got out of the car. “Like I keep tellin' you, quit trippin' and just lay low. I'll holla at you later.” He went into the house,
logged onto his computer and purchased a round-trip ticket to Oakland using his alias, Thomas Reed. He then printed out pictures of both Piper and Trenda. He picked up the briefcase next to his desk and put the pictures inside. He then walked over to the huge safe in the corner of the den and removed a few items borrowed from the Baltimore PD's Crime Investigation Unit office. He packed the equipment into his briefcase. Once done, he sat back and stared at the walls of his den. The large framed picture of his grandfather seemed to stare at him. He shut down his computer and turned his back to the picture. “I sure hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to do, Gramps.”

S
aturday morning, her first day working solo after three days of training with Lollie, Trenda met with Alberta Flores in the Barnes & Noble parking garage. “Like I told you on the phone, young lady, this car has always been garaged. My late husband also kept all the maintenance records.”

Trenda let her hand glide over the roof of the ten-year-old, brown Honda sedan. She then kicked the left rear tire. “It's okay…but the tires look a little worn.”

The seventy-ish Mexican woman bent over slightly, adjusted her glasses and inspected the tire. “I agree they are a little worn, but they were replaced only two years ago.” Whe stood up straight and smiled. “This is a very nice car for the price. Fifteen hundred is very good price.”