“Well, in the meantime, why don’t you make a nigga something to eat!” he yelled.
“I got something for you to eat you sneaky piece of shit,” Frankie mumbled. Cowboy was about his paper and had plenty of it, which was the main reason she dealt with him, but he had no idea how to treat a lady. She didn’t know how she had managed to put up with him for as long as she had, but thanks to Duce, she wouldn’t have to do so much longer.
Cos leaned against the wall in the police precinct wearing his best ice grill. There were four other men in the room with him, all holding large index cards with numbers scribbled on them. The police had questioned him for over an hour, but he remained perfectly silent. They were insinuating a million and one things, but the more they spoke the more confident he became that they didn’t have anything on him. The thing that he found to be strange was the fact that they kept asking him about Thor. Only Cowboy, Duce and Frankie knew that he was supposed to pick him up that morning, so one of them had to be the leak. No matter whom it was, he was going to make it his business to kill them once he was back on the streets.
The police popped shit and made threats, but none of it moved Cos. He had been in and out of jail far too long to let their empty threats rattle him. He refused to utter anything other than “I want to see my lawyer.” Only when his lawyer arrived did he agree to participate in the lineup to prove that they had the wrong man… or so he hoped.
Behind the two-way mirror, the lead detective, who had rushed his house, sat with a young woman. She fidgeted nervously in the hard plastic chair staring at the five men on the other side of the looking glass. She had never seen any of them before, but had been given a description of the man she was to point out during the lineup.
“That’s him,” she said, pointing at Cos.
“Are you sure?” the lead detective asked.
“Yes.”
“This is bullshit,” Cos’ lawyer threw his hands in the air. “This woman is a prostitute with a rap sheet a mile long. How the hell is she credible?”
“Because she was there,” the lead detective told him. “Your boy Brown is a notorious piece of shit and the thing that happened at the Doll House is right up his alley. Now, instead of sitting here slinging insults, I suggest you start trying to convince him to take the deal the DA is sure to offer him for the other four perps.”
“This is a miscarriage of justice and I won’t stand for it!” the lawyer said animatedly.
“Then sit down,” the lead detective said, turning his attention back to the woman. “Now, take a good look honey and there’s no need to be scared because he can’t see you. Is that the man you saw at the Doll House?”
“Yes, that’s him,” she said wondering if the detective was telling the truth about the mirror. “I was tending bar that night and I remember seeing him lurking around the door before the shooting started.”
“Okay sweetie, we’ll have one of the officers outside take you home. Thank you for your time.”
The woman nodded and left the room. What she had told the police was half true. The woman had been the bartender at the Doll House the night Cos and the others had robbed it, but she didn’t see his face. Duce had paid her a small ransom to say otherwise. Of course, she would be nowhere to be found when it was time to testify, which would more than likely make Cos a free man, but this was how Duce had planned it. He didn’t want his one-time friend gone… just out of the way long enough for him to whack Cowboy.
Cos was less than pleased to find out that he had been fingered as one of the robbers at the Doll House, but he managed to maintain his cool. He needed to keep a clear head in light of the situation. He knew that no one other than the stripper he had tipped had gotten a good look at him, and there was no way his own little cousin would drop a dime on him, leaving only the members of his crew. He and Thor were like brothers so that left Duce, Cowboy and Frankie. Either one or all three of them would pay for turning on Costello Brown.
His lawyer sat waiting for him behind a conference table, while a uniformed officer stood outside the door. As soon as he sat down, the lawyer immediately went into his spiel about how he was going to do everything in his power to free Cos but was waved silent. “Nix the bullshit because I’m not really in the mood to hear it,” Cos said, leaning in to whisper. “This is what you’re gonna do. Get my cell phone out of my personals as soon as you can. Send big brother a text telling him that there’s a weasel in the hen house. He’ll know what it means.” Without waiting for the lawyer to respond, Cos returned to the conference room door and yelled for the officer to take him back to his cell.
Whoever was behind the set up was sure to have covered their bases so there probably wasn’t much he could do other than wait for his arraignment and play it from there. But whoever the traitor was would soon find out that Cos wasn’t without his own resources.
TWENTY-ONE
“Damn it, Frankie, don’t you hear the door?” Cowboy asked, standing over Frankie who was lounging on the sofa.
“It ain’t for me,” she said, not bothering to look up from the magazine she was thumbing through.
“I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, woman,” he said, heading for the front door.
“Nine and a half inches of paradise,” she mumbled.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he stopped short.
“I’m talking about the magazine. I said this bitch gives horrible advice,” she lied. “What the hell is your problem this morning?”
“My problem is that I’ve got almost 200 grand down in the trunk of my car and ain’t nobody breaking the door down to try and get their piece. Where the fuck is these niggaz at?”
“Relax, baby, that’s probably them at the door now. Their simple minded assess was probably out chasing ass all night.”
“I don’t give a fuck what they were doing. When I tell niggaz eight o’clock I mean eight o’clock, not a quarter to nine.” Cowboy snatched the door open to find only one of his missing soldiers. “At least one of you niggaz has got some sense of time, even if you are half an hour late,” he said letting Duce into the apartment.
“Sorry about that, man. I’m just not used to getting up this early no more,” Duce gave him a pound and flopped in one of the four folding chairs Cowboy had set up in the living room. Frankie glanced at him, and went back to her magazine. “So, where’s everybody else?”
“Damned if I know,” Cowboy said, lighting a cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and began pacing the floor. “Thor, I could understand being a fuck up but it ain’t like Cos to be late, especially knowing the kind of paper we got on the ball.”
“Maybe they’re caught in traffic. The snow had shit moving mad slow,” Duce suggested.
“Maybe, but I doubt it. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Cowboy, you’re going to wear a hole in that carpet. Try to relax,” Frankie grabbed his hand to stop him from pacing. Just seeing her touch Cowboy made Duce want to pop the both of them, but he was too close to let his emotions throw it all to shit. He locked his heart in an iron box and focused on the plan.
“I can’t relax, baby. I know if I was supposed to get my piece of this big ass haul I’d have been on time. Men like Cos and Thor don’t bull shit over bread.”
“Cowboy, I’m gonna fix y’all some drinks, maybe that’ll calm your nerves,” Frankie said, making her way to the mini bar.
“Thanks, baby,” he patted her on the ass as she passed. “Duce,” he addressed the young man, “there’s nothing like having a good woman in your corner. I can always count on Frankie when the chips are down.”