Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 20- Hydeya

"Fuck the police."

I toss up my hands in front of the bathroom mirror while bitching to my husband. I know that he gets tired of me bringing my work home, but I can't help it. I'm so frustrated, overworked, and flat-out tired.

"You know, I'd respect people more if they would come on out and just say that shit. Instead I have to put up with people always lying to my face and thinking my ass is stupid. Take this Barbara Lewis chick. Her story doesn't make a lick of sense—or there's a whole lot of shit she's not telling me."

"The woman that was kidnapped?" Drake asks, focusing most of his attention on shaving.

"Yeah. One of them."

"What do you think she's hiding?" he asks.

"I don't know. I'm supposed to believe that this crazed mental patient escapes, kidnaps her sister, kills the sister's boyfriend and some bystander in the neighborhood off Shotgun Row, takes the sister to their childhood home—I don't even know how the extra body, Arzell Carter, fits in. Maybe he was Alice's accomplice. Anyway, some time later, Alice goes to Captain Smith's place, kills him and his wife, tells the kid, Christopher, that she's his grandmother and then, on her way out the door, kidnaps Barbara Lewis. But nobody knows why any of this happened? C'mon."

Drake shrugs. "Sometimes you can't explain crazy."

"I'm not buying it," I say. These people are insulting my intelligence. "Mrs. Lewis's story doesn't pass the smell test."

"Well." He leans over the vanity sink. "If anyone is going to figure it out, it's you, babe." He kisses my cheek, leaving a dab of shaving cream on my face.

"Hey. Watch it." I swipe my face and toss it back at him.

However, my mind goes back to the Smith case. "I don't know. Maybe Ms. Lewis really was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but it still has my Spidey senses going off."

"Oh. I married a superhero?"

"Oh. I got all kinds of powers," I brag, reaching over and grabbing him by his cock.

He may not be a brotha, but he must have some black genes somewhere because my man is hung like a horse. Drake laughs. "All right now. Don't start nothing you can't finish, Captain." I glance at my watch and moan.

"Maybe a rain check?"

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought." He slaps me on the ass and then goes back to his shave.

Once again, my mind goes back the case. "Why didn't Alice kill Barbara Lewis at the captain's home? Why take her with her?"

"You're like a dog with a bone." I slap him with my towel.

"I'm serious. Why?"

"Maybe she planned on torturing her."

"Exactly," I agree. "The shit was personal. The two knew each other. Why not admit it? Why hide it?"

"Did you ask her?"

"Of course I did. She denied it, and then threw up a brick wall so fast, I nearly broke my face on it."

"What about the other one?"

"Maybelline—Carver." Drake stops and meets my gaze in the mirror. "Momma Peaches?" I shrug, but Drake knows that Momma Peaches has been a source of fascination for me since long before I joined the Memphis Police Department.

The old woman is practically a legend, with a rap sheet that takes up a few gigabytes in the system. I've never had any direct dealings with the infamous lady gangsta until yesterday—but it has always been a matter of time before we met.

"So what do you think is going on?" he asks. "I don't know—but you can bet your ass that I'm going to find out." Drake cocks his head at me.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"I'll sleep in my next life," I tell him. "I better go. I have a full schedule today—which includes another press conference."

"Oooh. My baby is going to be on teeveee." He slides behind me and loops his arms around my waist.

"Since I can't have sex this morning, maybe I can get your autograph?"

"Quit it." Smiling, I try to wiggle out of his arms. "I'm going be late." He nuzzles my ear and squeezes my ass.

"Well. If you're already late."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You might have mentioned it once or a million times. I can't remember." Laughing, I push him off and head to our adjoining bedroom.

Drake grabs my arm and pulls me back. "Aren't you forgetting something?" I frown as he reaches for the flesh-colored bandages on the vanity counter.

"Oh." I roll my eyes for being so absentminded.

"Turn around," he says. I follow his order and sweep my hair out of the way so that my husband can cover the large, sixpointed star of the Vice Disciple tattooed on my neck.