Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 29- Hydeya

Ruby Cove.

Rolling through Cartel Lords' hostile territory, I'm still prepared for anything to go left. Acting on the Gibsons' tip, I don't know what to make of their suspicions of Tyneshia's girlfriends—especially since when we first interviewed them a few days ago, they swore that their daughter wasn't part of a gang and that she didn't have any enemies.

Now, apparently, they've had a come-to-Jesus moment and forced themselves to face a few facts about their daughter. For example, that she had been having problems at school and had been hanging out with a set of friends that her mother referred to as "tramps." None of Tyneshia's new friends bothered to call or show up to their daughter's funeral yesterday.

After a little digging, I discovered that whenever Tyneshia was arrested, the same three girls the Gibsons named were hauled off to jail with her: Adaryl Grant, Shamara "Li'l Bit" Moore and Shaniqua Barrett.

Lieutenant Fowler and I visit Adaryl Grant's place first, but despite a car being in the driveway, no one bothers to open the door. Next stop: Shamara Moore. Here, her grandmother opens the door and says she has no idea where her grandchild is and then grills us for twenty minutes about what the child has done now.

"We just want to talk to her." The old lady doesn't buy it.

I hope we have more luck with Shaniqua Barrett. When we park in front of the Barretts' address, I'm convinced that we must've tripped an invisible alarm wire because large crowds of people spill out of their houses to peep us out.

"This should be fun," Lieutenant John Fowler says, removing his mirrored shades and shoving them in his front pocket. "I don't know about you, but I live for excitement." I sweep my gaze around our growing crowd.

If they're trying to intimidate, they got me confused. I grew up in the streets and I can get gutter with the best of them. "Then you're certainly in the right place."

He opens his car door and climbs out. Laughing, I follow his lead, snapping open my holster for easy access. When we reach the front door, I knock and then we wait. The seconds tick by like hours while the number of bodies surrounding us increases.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Fowler leans over my shoulder. "I'm not too sure that we won't have to shoot our way out of here."

"Chill," I hiss, certain that did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. The curtains on the side window shift, but when I look over, they drop back into place.

However, the door doesn't open. "C'mon," I mutter, irritated. "Open the damn door."

"Y'all pigs need to get the fuck on," an angry male voice yells behind us.

"Y'all are stinking up the whole damn street!" Laughter spreads among the crowd. Fowler casts me a look that tells me he'd rather be playing Russian roulette in his momma's basement right now.

"I think you're mistaking us for your bottom lip." I level him with my best Dirty Harry look.

The young gangster looks me up and down, trying to decide how much he wants to show off in front of his friends. "Hey, ain't you the new captain of police?" a female asks.

"Yeah. Yeah. I seen you all over the news." That got everyone's attention. They look me over again and then back the hell up.

Fowler chuckles. "Damn. I need to carry you around in my back pocket. Maybe I'll finally get some respect."

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

A female voice shouts, "Who is it?"

"Police! We'd like to ask a few questions." Silence. And the door remains closed.