Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

clouds created dull skies above the busy streets of Independence Avenue. Once controlled by the bold nature of the Italian and Sicilian immigrants, the four mile east-west stretch of the legendary Kansas City avenue bolstered new sets of players. Mexican immigrants occupied most of the businesses and residential homes and apartments. The Mexicans didn’t mind the ghetto blacks and poor white trash making jokes about them being nothing but illegal spics and greaseballs.
The same ones who insulted them paid for products in their stores and handed over rent to live in their homes and apartments. Time ticked its way towards six o’clock p.m. Carey Schroeder cruised towards the east end of Independence Avenue. He parked in a lot closest to a taco and burrito stand. Mexican vendors threw all kinds of hints for Carey to come over and try their mouthwatering dishes. The smell of grilled chicken, beef, pork, onions, peppers, and garlic teased Carey’s tastebuds.
Business was business and he had some business to take care of inside of The Black Diamond strip club. He pulled the door open and was met by a short, stocky-built man with the shiniest bald head with two matching gold loop earrings. The doorman wore black chaps and a matching black leather vest.
“What can I do for you?” he asked Carey, a Marlboro Gold cigarette dangling at the edge of his mouth.
Carey whipped out his badge and flashed it before the doorman. “I’m homicide detective Carey Schroeder with the Kansas City, Missouri Police Department. I need to ask some questions about a murder victim who worked Independence Avenue.”
“What murder victim?”
“Kimberly Deanna Barr.”
“I knew Kim.”
Carey pointed to the other side of the skin club. Young black men were shooting pool and dropping dollar bills on the stage. “Can we go over there to talk?”
“No problem.”
Carey and the doorman weaved through the crowd of young blacks who puffed on their blunt cigars and slammed down mixed cocktails.
“Now, what can you tell me about Kim?” Carey asked, pulling out a pad and a pen.
“Kim worked the avenue for a long time,” the doorman explained. “She’d come down here to The Black Diamond from time-to-time and hustle people for money.”
“I assume to buy drugs or maybe get something eat.”
“I’d say so.”
Carey practically saw his reflection on top of the doorman’s head.
“And when she’d come down here to the strip club, that’s all she would do, just ask people for money?”
“To be truthful with you, detective,” the doorman paused, taking strong puffs from his cigarette. “She’d take guys in the back of the building and she’d blow them straight to the moon. I’d see guys coming from the side of the building with Kim zipping up their pants.”
“Did you ever see Kim jumping in and out of cars along Independence Avenue?”
“Only a thousand cars over the years.”
“Did any of them appear strange or stand out from all the others?”
“No, they were just tricks looking to get blowed or get screwed for the night.”
“Would you say that she had any regulars?”
“Plenty of regulars.”
“You do know that Kim’s body was found badly mutilated in Brush Creek.”
“Read about it in the paper.”
“Around the time frame she’d been found in Brush Creek, had you seen her get into a car with a real weirdo?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Would you promise on the soul of your mother, or swear to it on a stack of Bibles?”
“I’d be willing to bet my very life on it.”
“That’s convincing enough for me.”
“Look detective, there’re a lot of women who work the avenue. There’re a lot of tricks who cruise the avenue. The cops do their part to make sure the hookers and tricks don’t stir up a lot of bullshit up and down the avenue. The women know that they’re playing Russian Roulette with their lives everytime they jump into a car with some guy they know nothing about.”
Carey stared once again at the very top of the doorman’s shiny bald head. “I’d have to agree with you a hundred percent.”
“These psychos prey on women like Kim. These animals know how vulnerable they are, them having dope problems and all.”
“Are there any of your dancers who might’ve known Kim?”
The doorman pointed to a dancer who commanded the stage. “Chocolate sort of knew Kim. She should be coming off stage after this song.”
“I’d like to ask her a few questions about Kim.”
He respectfully clenched Carey’s arm. “Hey detective, I’d only ask that you don’t harass any of our employees.”
“Look sir, a woman was murdered and her body mutilated. This sonofabitch is still on the loose, and he’s probably working on his next victim. I need to find out as much as I can to help further our investigation.”
The doorman succumbed to Carey’s requests. “Alright, but don’t scare Chocolate off. She’s our biggest moneymaker here at The Black Diamond.”
“I promise that I won’t be too brush.”
The hit rap record which blasted through the concert speakers dissolved. The super-curvy and beautiful black dancer known as “Chocolate” swept up her many dollar bills before leaving the stage. Big beads of sweat rolled off her smooth and delectable chocolate skin.
Carey approached her with his badge camouflaged by both hands. “How are you doing this evening?”
“I’m fine. And yourself?” Chocolate replied, her enticing stripper outfit hung over her arm.
“Doing just great.”
“You want a lapdance or something?”
“Actually, I’m homicide detective Carey Schroeder with the Kansas City, Missouri Police Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Kimberly Deanna Barr.”
“White girl Kim?” Chocolate categorized, followed by a familiar frown. “What’d you like to know about Kim?”
“A few questions.”
“I heard about what happened to her.”
“So, you heard about the Parks and Recreation workers finding her mutilated body in Brush Creek?”
“Yes, I found that real fucked up. Look, can I go back into the dressing room and put back on my outfit and put my money away?”
“Sure, I’ll be out here waiting for you.”
While he waited for Chocolate, Carey scanned the tittie bar and saw a sea of drug dealers, hustlers, gangbangers, and street walkers. A chance bust would’ve done enough to fill up half the county jail. The Black Diamond wasn’t the typical gentleman’s club where the respectable rich gentlemen came to play. Chocolate emerged from the dressing room decked out in her sky blue and lime green stripper’s outfit. The fluorescent colors put a mild strain on Carey’s eyes.
“Now, where were we?” Chocolate asked Carey, fishing out a Newport cigarette.
“You were supposed to tell me what you knew about Kim,” Carey reminded the stripper.
“Yeah, that’s right, detective. Exactly what would you like to know?”
“First, did you know Kim personally?”
“Sort’a.”
“What does sort’a mean?” Carey asked with skepticism.
“It means both yes and no. Yes, I knew Kim in passing. But I didn’t know her on a more personal level.”
“How much did you know about her in passing?”
“Well,” Chocolate hesitated, taking long drags off her cigarette. “Kim strolled up and down the avenue morning, noon, and night. It’s like she never got any sleep. She’d come down here to The Black Diamond asking me and other people for money. I’d give her a couple’a dollars out of the tip money I’d make, but she made money by taking dudes in the back of the building and giving them oral sex.”
“Yes, the doorman already told me. Did any of the guys she tricked with stand out or look different from all the rest?”
“A trick is a trick to me. Look at all these dudes in here tricking away their rent money and house mortgages and car notes. Kim gotta hold to the wrong trick.”
“Did you ever get a good look at the guys she’d take to the back of the building?”
“Detective, there were far too many to remember. She’d go back there with black dudes, white dudes, Mexican dudes, and whoever spent money to get blowed. She did oral so much until she’d get those nasty looking red sores around her mouth.”
“The doorman told me that she got into a lot of cars at the other end of Independence Avenue.”
“She sure did,” Chocolate affirmed. “Coming to and leaving from The Black Diamond, I’d see her jumping into and out of one car after another. How she did it, I’ll never know.”
“Again, did any of those guys stand out?”
“Far too many of them to remember.”
“You’ve got a good point.”
Chocolate snapped her finger while discharging a long drag of smoke. “You know what, detective? Some real weird man came in here one night, one of those men who looked like he’d kill his own mother and father for fun.”
“How’d you describe this guy?”
“Had lots of crater holes in his face. Had teeth rotted straight to the gums. He was medium height and weight and kinda had a big bulge on the side of his stomach.”
“The kind you wouldn’t wanna run into in a dark alley at three in the morning.”
“That’s right.”
“You ever seen him here in the club or along Independence Avenue?”
“Never,” Chocolate rejected. “I gave him a lapdance and noticed that he didn’t have any private parts between his legs.”
“Private parts?”
“Yeah, he didn’t have those babymaking tools down there.”
“Wow, I’d