“What do you mean, dick?”
“Here, read this for yourself,” Kowalski said, shoving the note at Eric.
Eric hesitated but took the note. His face contorted when he saw his name and beneath it the (800) BODY-HIT grim reaper signature. Blood rushed to his head, making him woozy. Eric steadied himself and turned the note over as if expecting something other than the dollar amount. He held the paper as if he was weighing it in his hand.
“I mean, your friend, or should I say ex-friend, put out a flat one hundred grand on your head.” Kowalski laughed, snapping his fingers like he was rolling dice. “How’d you like that turn of events, huh? Just when you thought you were home free. Now you’re gonna have to be looking over your shoulders all the time.” The detective paused and snickered. “Now, do you want to cooperate? Remember your good friend, Busta had been marked for such a hit, before you answer. Busta told us a few things about your arrangement before his brain was blown out.”
Eric didn’t know what to say. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his chin and rubbed the stubble on his face. Busta would never snitch. Lil’ Long had killed him, he was sure, but Eric didn’t know why. Busta stayed connected to the street and had beef with a lot of people.
The detective reached into his bag of tricks and placed a ring on the desk. Eric’s mind froze for a beat. He stared at the familiar canary yellow diamond on the ring Busta used to wear on his right pinky finger.
It was as if the detective had found the right bullet for the empty gun on the desk. He smiled wryly when he saw Eric’s brow wrinkled and a notable grimace clouding his expression. Eric was pondering all his options. The number one priority was to get out and make sure his niece was okay. Second he needed added security. Eric summed it up in his mind. He looked at the detective sweating him through a heated stare.
“Cooperate…? C’mon man, I already told you I don’t know anything. You’re barking up the wrong tree!”
“Now you’re sounding like Eric Ascot, Mr. Big Time Music Producer, but you’re going down one way or the other. There are people out there who killed my partner and I wanna know why and I wanna know it quickly. You can start by telling us all about how you and Busta conspired to murder four people.”
Eric looked at the notepaper again and then at the detective. This was a trick to get him to talk. He shoved the note at the befuddled detective.
“When my legal team gets here, you’re gonna have to release me, dick. You and I know none of the things you’re saying is true. You’re just trying to shake me down for info I know nothing about. Do us both a favor and fall back. You’ve kept me here too long already, wasting my fucking time.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna probably get your release. But I’m telling you, you’re a slime ball and you’ll be back crawling and begging once those bullets start coming at you. The bullet only nicked you this time. Next time you might not be so lucky.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” Eric said.
“They’re all dead, Eric. Busta, Maruichi and his boys, we’re all you’ve got left. Come straight and we can work out a deal,” the detective offered.
“Deal? You cannot be serious?”
“We’ll see. You’re brave now. Next time you won’t be able to fucking make up a song about it because you’ll be a dead cocksucker!” Kowalski screamed in Eric’s face.
“Yeah, I don’t care about your theories,” Eric said.
“I’m gonna give them to you anyhow,” Kowalski said, leaning closer. “You and your former friend, Busta, have been in contact with a hit squad, an organization which goes by some kind of code. Now we can prove the organization is responsible in the killing of at least four police officers and several civilians on someone’s orders. Your involvement has already been determined. Now you can tell us who gave the orders for those people to die. Give me names and some reasons why these people were murdered!”
The detective’s bellowing didn’t rattle Eric, who calmly adjusted the yellow diamond cuff links on his Gucci shirt.
“I was shot,” he said. “You’ve had me cooped up in this office all morning trying to get me to answer questions on shit I don’t know about. I guess you don’t know when to quit, huh?” Eric was looking at the gun.
“Why did he want you dead?”
“Maybe he was a disgruntled fan. He didn’t like my last song. I don’t know. Maybe you know dick.”
The detective was rattled and grabbed Eric by his shirt collar. Eric rose to his feet as the detective continued shaking him.
“He may have missed that time you sonofabitch! There’ll be other chances to prove just how tough you are!” Kowalski screamed.
Two uniform officers came busting through the door. They fought and struggled to get the detective off Eric. During the commotion, Eric was hit twice in the face before they finally dragged the irate Kowalski away.
“You better cut a deal right now. The price on your head guarantees you’ll be back begging for our help,” Kowalski shouted as he was pulled out the office. “You’re gonna be begging—”
“Muthafucka get outta my face,” Eric muttered while examining his torn shirt. A couple minutes later, a uniformed officer returned. “That muthafucka must be crazy,” Eric said. looking at his injured arm. \Another officer approached him.
“They giving you a hard time?” the officer asked.
“This shirt must be offensive,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“You can leave. Your lawyers have bailed you out,” he said.
Eric got up and adjusted his clothes. The chief stepped in front of him, looking him up and down.
“I don’t like your kind. You rap millionaires wearing your expensive clothes trying to pass yourselves off as decent people…”
“I’m not a rap millionaire, I’m a music producer I do all types of—”
“Whatever you are, all the hip-hop-pity-shit makes no difference to me. At the end of the day, you’re still a criminal so you better be prepared to pay them high price lawyers a lot of damn money. You can guarantee one thing. We will get you. Go on back to your studio and put it in a damn song, Mr. Music Producer.”
He was mean-grilling so close to Eric that blobs of spit crashed into his face. Eric pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his face.
“You made your point,” Eric said before walking out the office.
Kowalski, the chief and his superiors were staring at him as if he were a prize. They watched Eric strut to the front desk and shake hands with his lawyer.
“We need constant surveillance on him. He’s a tough guy with a soft heart. Let’s find where he’s slipping and then let’s pounce. Give him a lot of attention, I want wiretaps to go over his telephone records. He’s connected somehow. Find me something so I can nail the nigga to the wall,” the chief ordered. “We’ve got to wrap this case and very soon. We need the murderer caught. The department already lost a couple of good men in this one. We can’t afford to drag this one too long, especially you Kowalski. He helped to kill your partner. Now get on your jobs!” the chief ordered.
A group of detectives huddled and as Eric walked by, they nodded and dispersed. Eric stood at the front desk and conferring for a few minutes with his attorney. They walked away still in conversation.
“Are you alright, Eric? Everything is alright. But apparently someone from their side notified the media. The news hounds are waiting outside. I’ll handle them if you want me to.”
“I want you to handle them. I’ll... I’ll...” Eric was worn out.
His attorney turned and looked at the precinct commander,