He couldn’t even stay long enough for breakfast.
My notification icon was lit so I clicked on it. I sucked my teeth when I saw a friend request from Ladykiller. Clicking “ignore,” I went to my newsfeed to see what people were getting into this weekend. As I scrolled through, I started to see a grave pattern.
Joanne Dunley: Rest in peace.
Mitch tiredofballin Walker: R.I.P my niggas
Rita RealSpit Gibson: Two people’s lives were lost last night. I don’t and probably will never know the real circumstances behind their deaths, but they both will be in my prayers.
Smitty Down4Whatever: R.I.P. Kenneth “C.r.e.a.m.” Murberry and Edward Young. We lost two real niggas.
Christina MsFineGirclass="underline" I don’t understand why the police never catch these people.
Janice Tillot: @Christina MsFineGirl. The police have leads. They said one of his Site friends is a suspect.
Monica I’mProbably Wright: They could be right next to us in the grocery store. It’s scary. That’s why I’m moving away from Kansas City as soon as I can.
Wendy ‘youlovetotaste’ Hartley: Stay out of my inbox! Just because Kenneth was my baby daddy don’t mean I know what happened to him!
“Tyesha, I told you to stay off the phone while you’re at your counter.”
Ruth Jameson, my supervisor, startled me. I quickly stuffed my phone in my pocket. This wasn’t the first time I had been caught using my phone while on the clock.
“I was just checking my e-mails,” I lied.
Ruth stared at me icily. “I don’t care what you were doing. It’s not allowed. And I’ve told you this for the umpteenth time. Do you want this job?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
“I do. I’ll stay off my phone, Ruth. I’m sorry.”
Ruth held her palm out. “Give me the phone, Tyesha.”
The most absurd expression appeared on my face. “Give you my phone? I’m not giving you my phone. I’m 22 years old. I’m not a child.”
“The people in my office told me to get any electronic devices from you,” Ruth said.
“What people?”
“Detectives. They’re in there waiting on you.”
I glanced at her palm. “Are you serious? What do they want?”
“They wouldn’t tell me. They just told me to get your phone before I sent you in. Is that the only thing electronic on you?”
I started to walk away when Ruth grabbed my arm. I shrugged her off. “Don’t touch me, Ruth. I’m not giving you my phone. I know my rights.”
Nervous wasn’t the word. I brushed the thighs of my skirt and buttoned the second button from the top on my white and violet pocket-front blouse, trying to look as presentable as possible, as I walked down to Ruth’s office. I patted my hair and wondered, Do I look guilty? My heart felt like it was about to explode.
When I walked into Ruth’s office, one of the two detectives told me to shut the door and have a seat. They were both Black men, and they had on casual clothes. If Ruth hadn’t told me ahead of time, I probably wouldn’t have known they were detectives.
“My names Detective Frisk,” said the one that was sitting down behind Ruth’s desk. The other detective was perched on the edge of it. He wore a close-fitted gray tee that hugged his toned muscles, with black and gray Nike Shox on his feet. “And this is my partner, Detective Copeland.”
Copeland was closest to me and extended his hand. I shook it.
“I know my rights,” I said. “And I don’t have to give you my phone if I don’t want to.”
Frisk looked confused. “We’re not asking you for any of your property. We just have some questions.”
I knew it. Ruth just wanted my phone to be an ass.
“We’re here to talk to you about an incident that took place last night, roughly around 10:00 p.m.,” Frisk said. “Two young men by the names of Edward Young and Kenneth Murberry were murdered and we’d like to know if you had any information to provide us.”
I tensed. “I don’t. Why would I?”
It was almost as if Detective Copeland had seen my answer coming. He quickly reached in his pocket and pulled out a photo that he laid on the desk in front of me.
“Do you know this man?” he asked.
Of course I did. It was the father of my child, Rodrick Brown. It was a mugshot of him from a couple years ago when he caught a possession of narcotics charge. His dreads hung down his face like tangled black ropes.
Without thinking, I said, “No, I don’t know him.”
Detective Frisk sighed.
Copeland picked the picture up and held it close to my face. “This isn’t your baby daddy?”
“Oh, yeah it is,” I retracted. “I didn’t recognize the picture. It’s a bad photo.” I squinted at it. “Yeah, that’s him. Yall think he knows something about it?”
“We need to have a chat with him, that’s all. He’s on our list of people to talk to. Do you know where we can locate him?”
I shook my head no. “I haven’t seen him in like a month.”
Detective Copeland started biting his bottom lip as if he was irritated.
Leaning forward, balling his hands together in a fist and placing them on the desk, Detective Frisk looked at me hard. “Ms. Fenty, or should I say Tyesha816, we’ve had a looksee at your Site page. You uploaded a photo of him and your daughter to your page eight days ago. And on Rodrick’s Site page, he uploaded a photo of his daughter holding a large amount of cash on your daughter’s birthday. And you’re trying to tell me you haven’t seen him in a month?”
“I haven’t,” I said adamantly.
“Let’s cut the shit. If you keep lying to us, you can get in some serious trouble. This is a double homicide we’re talking about. We already know that Kenneth made a threatening post to Rodrick Brown yesterday that we can’t confirm because it was mysteriously deleted. But this morning Rodrick Brown made a post that has raised questions about his culpability in the murders. And we’ve dialogued with several of your Site friends, and they’ve told us that he’s been known to stay with a lot of women, but mainly with you. Our records stating that he home-planned to your house corroborate that.”
“He lived with me when he first got out. That’s it. And he’s never lived with no other females either. It’s a bunch a liars on The Site. Yall are detectives, yall should know that. And I may have uploaded that picture of Rodrick and my daughter recently, but that don’t mean it was taken recently. I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe it’s not been a whole month, but it feels like it.”
“We need to know where we can find him,” Copeland said.
I asked, “Do I legally have to answer any more questions?”
“Not at this moment, no. But if you’re called before the court, yes, you will,” Frisk emphasized. “What we’re trying to do is avoid involving you in the whole court process entirely. We’d hate for both the father and mother of your daughter, Kylie, to end up in jail. I’m being real wit’ you here.”
This didn’t feel real at all. I was being threatened with jail time and the unimaginable—losing my child. I was surprised they hadn’t brought up Gideon. If it was murder involved, they must have been together, right? Maybe it was because Gideon didn’t have a Site page, and thus the detectives had no idea who he was.