Push Comes To Shove Part 21

It had been exactly two weeks and one day since Jewels was discharged from Metro Hospital. Now she stood inside Conrad Tharp's bedroom, disgusted. She could feel her stomach churn. The room had been converted into a p.o.r.no set. There was high-tech equipment and high-velocity power cords all over. p.o.r.nographic pictures and film clips had been thumb-tacked to a corkboard. Everything from leather restraints to s.e.x toys to libido-stimulating drugs were in this room.

Jewels was not one to frown upon an individual's s.e.xual practices or preference, but Conrad Tharp was a deviant. The stars of his homemade films were he and boys and girls who couldn't have been any older than Secret, Jewels speculated, while forcing herself to view the images on the corkboard. "Sick caveman." Jewels held her stomach, which now felt queasy, then threw-up. She wiped her mouth with a sleeve, then flipped a light switch.

A pulsating instrumental music began to play. She went to the stereo and lowered the volume. The electronic equipment lit up. Fluorescent tube lights lining the ceiling s.h.i.+ned bright, and the video cameras zoomed in on the messy bed. Two computer screens showed the bed from different angles. Another screen boasted the video footage of some of the same shots that had been pinned on the corkboard.

She knocked a set of cue cards, with script lines on it, to the floor and began to ramble through the computer station's drawer until she found a CD. She sat down in front of the computer and burned Conrad Tharp's entire file onto the CD.

Thirty minutes later, Jewels yanked the CD out of the disc drive. She heard the door slam shut as someone hummed the same tune that she heard earlier.

Crutchfield and his annoying sidekick, Thomas, made their way up a broken sidewalk, then rapped on a warped screen door.

"Go away."

"Miles, it's Detective Crutchfield. Can I have a word with you?"

"Come back when you die." His words were slow and slurred.

Thomas cupped his hands around his face and looked through the screen. "Sounds like he's been drinking pretty heavy."

"Miles, thanks for inviting me in." Crutchfield opened the door and led the way.

Thomas fanned the air. "You look like s.h.i.+t, Miles...and this place smells like a used pamper."

Miles was stretched across the couch. He was holding on to a bottle of brown liquor. He sat upright and paused until the room was no longer spinning. "What are you...Why are you here bothering me? I don't like you."

"Sorry to hear about your mother's pa.s.sing," Crutchfield said.

Miles turned the bottle up to his face and let out a satisfying, "Aaah. Did you arrest Squeeze?" He stood and staggered in place. His s.h.i.+rt had been b.u.t.toned all wrong.

"I think you better sit back down." Thomas helped Miles to the couch.

"I need to take a look in j.a.p's room." Crutchfield pointed out a bag of marijuana to Thomas.

"Don't be scoping out my weed. Get your own; it ain't enough for all of us." He shoved it in his pocket. "Don't worry yourself about busting Squeeze." He beat on his chest. "'Cause can't n.o.body, n.o.body, you hear me? n.o.body can make things right by my mother and j.a.p but me." He started laughing. The scent of alcohol poured from his breath.

"You're drunk; you don't know what you're saying."

"You're right; I am a little tipsy." He hit the bottle again. "But my tongue is sober. Look around. I don't have a f.u.c.king thing to lose. It's gone already."

"If I thought you really knew what you were saying," Thomas said as he touched Miles' shoulder, "I'd take you in. Instead, I'm gonna let you sleep your liquor off."

"You'd take a drunk man to jail..." Miles paused to remember what he wanted to say. "Just 'cause I had a few drinks, you'd threaten to arrest me, but you won't arrest Squeeze for...whatever he did to my brother. I'll arrest him since you two are chickens." He closed his eyes. "I'm gambled out. I have to make it right."

Crutchfield patted Miles's back. "Get some rest. I'm gonna take a look in j.a.p's room."

"Hurry up and get out. j.a.p ain't into people bothering his things."

Blue Eyes closed the back door of his home with a dull thud. "I'm home, honey. I've been thinking of you all day." He adjusted a leather bag that he had thrown over his shoulder. He hummed an upbeat tune and danced his way to a downstairs closet. He pulled the door open and smiled. "Were you thinking of me like I've been thinking of you?"

An adolescent blow-up doll wearing a training bra and lace thong smiled back at him.

"You're trying to make me love you; tell the truth." He picked up the life-sized doll with care, pinched its synthetic nipples, and kissed its mouth. He turned around and caught a vicious blow from the b.u.t.t of a nickel-plated .45.

"You nasty f.u.c.ker." Jewels knelt down and latched on to his blond hair and looked into his blue eyes. "If I didn't need you alive, I'd kill you."

"Don't hurt me. There's plenty of money in the bag. Take it. Please don't hurt me."

Jewels glanced at the open leather bag beside him. "That's a bonus. Open your mouth."

"I didn't mean to-"

She backhanded him. "Open your mouth, pervert."

He complied.

"Wider."

She could now see his tonsils. She filled his mouth with the long barrel. "I'm only gonna say this once, so turn your ears on."

He nodded.

"This guy was a true military fanatic." Thomas placed a model tank back on the dresser. "Might have served our country well."

Crutchfield backed away from a closet filled with camouflage clothing and various styles of army boots. "I always knew you were a little off, but to be slow and and off brands you r.e.t.a.r.ded." off brands you r.e.t.a.r.ded."

"You're worse than my wife. What are you fussing about now?"

"It finally sank into your mentally-challenged head that j.a.p is dead."

Thomas examined a plastic model of a .50-millimeter machine gun. "I never said that."

"Not per se, but you implied it. What does 'might have served our country well' mean? For some apparent reason you think he's not capable of serving our a.s.s-backward country anymore." served our country well' mean? For some apparent reason you think he's not capable of serving our a.s.s-backward country anymore."

"Uh..." Thomas opened a drawer. "You made me lose my train of thought."

"Impossible; you've never been trained to think. So what does 'might have' mean?"

Conrad stretched his mouth as wide as he could.

Jewels pushed the barrel in. "I'm only gonna say this once, so turn your ears on."

He nodded.

"I know all about your extracurricular activities. I've saved everything in your computer files on my CD. All of it, including the pictures and the parents who rent you their kids." She tightened her grip on his stringy hair and pushed the gun deeper until he began to gag. "Sick, perverted b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you probably like it this way. You want to keep me quiet?"

He nodded as best as he could.

"You filed some bogus charges against my partner GP."

His brows furrowed.

"Greg Patterson and his wife."

His eyes widened.

"Now you remember. You have two days to drop the charges or I'll turn my CD of your child molesting ring over to the cops, if I don't decide to come back and rid the world of you myself. Did I make myself clear enough for you?"

"Hmm." He confirmed.

She released his hair to show him the CD. "Two days."

Another nod.

"Good." She delivered a blow to his head so hard, that when Conrad awoke from the realms of never-never land, he'd certainly have a splitting headache.

"Well, make something up. You're due to tell me a good lie." Crutchfield waited on Thomas's answer.

"I'm leaning toward believing j.a.p is amongst the dead."

"Thought so." Crutchfield went to the door. "Let's get out of here. It's nothing here but stinking boot camp memories." He reached for the light switch and noticed a wastepaper basket positioned directly beneath it.

Thomas had a smirk on his face while Crutchfield sifted through the rubbish. "Looks like you're skilled in the sanitation department. How long have you been a professional garbage picker?"

"Ever since your grandmother showed me the ropes." He picked out an empty watch box, returned to the living room, and found Miles snoring, laid face down on the bare floor.

Crutchfield shook Miles.

"Forgive me, Momma. I'll make it right." Drool pooled between his scruffy face and the floor.

"Get up, Miles." More shaking.

He opened his eyes.

Crutchfield stuck the watch box in his face. "Was j.a.p wearing this watch when he disappeared?"

He shrugged. "I thought I told you to get out." He closed his eyes again.

Thomas entered the room.

Crutchfield tossed Thomas the watch box.

Thomas read the words displayed on the box. Suunto's X 9 GPS Watch Suunto's X 9 GPS Watch.

Kitchie sat on the building's stoop watching the neighborhood children playing stickball. She thought about all the ups and downs that had taken place in her life. She even recalled the time she had stormed out of her parents' house, holding GP's hand, after announcing that she was going to marry GP whether they gave her their blessing or not.

"Snap out of it. Come back down here with us." Desmond flashed his Academy Award-winning smile.

"Hey, Desmond. How are you?"

"I'm good. What about you? I saw the newspaper. That's f.u.c.ked up how that Reynolds cat been abusing kids all these years. I hate that your kids got mixed up in that bulls.h.i.+t."

"Me, too. The state placed some of the kids with another organization until the courts decide Reynolds's fate. I'm officially a volunteer, which is a plus for me. I get to spend time with my children until my husband and I can bring them home."

Desmond watched her lips move as she spoke. "How's your little man? Is he..."

"No, he hasn't spoken a word since the incident. The doctors say he'll be fine. Something will trigger him to talk again."

Desmond started up the steps. "It won't rain forever. The sun will eventually s.h.i.+ne on you. Take it easy, with your fine self."

"I'm glad you think so." GP poked his head through a hall window just above the stoop. "Mrs. Patterson, come upstairs." He shot Desmond a look of contempt.

When Kitchie rounded the corner, GP was leaning against the wall near Jewels's door. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

"No. Is it something you want to hear me say?"

"You got this guy in your face, cracking on you and s.h.i.+t."

"He wasn't in my face, GP. And as far as the compliment, you don't have a problem with people admiring me when it comes to making sales for Street Prophet. What you should've done is sat back and watched how I handled the situation, instead of making your presence known. Then, we wouldn't be on the verge of an argument." She touched his face. "I never thought that I had to rea.s.sure you. I'm in love with you more than I was yesterday. It's been that way since the day we met." She held up her hand. "That's why this ring is on my finger. And you're kind of cute."

GP smiled. "I got some good news."

"Share it. I can use it."

"I rather you see it for yourself." He took her by the hand and led her into the apartment.

Her eyes widened. "Tell me the truth. Where did all that come from?" She was staring at five stacks of money, each containing five thousand dollars.

"You can't handle the truth, so we'll call it a...gift."

Jewels swiveled her chair around from her PC monitor. "Did y'all know that, as of May 16, the 2005 census states that there are over five hundred-thousand registered s.e.x offenders, and the number of reported child abuse cases are in the motherf.u.c.king millions?"

GP picked up a stack of rubber-banded bills. "This is to get us a place."

Kitchie jumped in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. "We're bringing the kids home?" She kissed him with pa.s.sion. "I love you, Papi. I can't wait to tell Secret and Junior."

"The other money is to buy me some more time with Squeeze."

"f.u.c.k y'all, ignoring me like I wasn't talking." Jewels turned back to the computer and typed in meganslaw.com.

Kitchie's excitement vanished. "Squeeze is a fool. What are you going to tell him about the rest of his money?"

"Come over here and look at this." Jewels beckoned them with the wave of a hand. When they were gathered around, she poked the computer screen with a finger. "Look at that."

Conrad Tharp's name, date of birth, and current address were listed. He was a registered s.e.x offender.

"Isn't that the guy who's pressing charges against us?" Kitchie looked at GP.

"Not if I can help it." Jewels shut the computer down.