Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(34)

Supreme stepped out of the room and looked at Guy Tony. He lit up a cigarette and said to him, “Yo, go help them wit’ that mess.”

Reluctantly, Guy did as he was told. When he looked at the body, all he could do was shake his head. He knew killing Nichols would create a problem. Without a doubt, Kola wouldn’t let her death go unpunished.





CHAPTER 14




It was early morning on another hot summer day. Apple had fallen asleep for a few short hours on the living room couch still wearing the same clothes from the night before. A good night’s sleep was becoming a distant memory for her. She couldn’t think clearly, and sometimes she couldn’t sleep at all. If she wasn’t up all night worrying about her little sister, she was wandering out into the streets, hoping to find some information.

Now day three of Nichols’ disappearance, it seemed the police weren’t making the missing person case their priority. And Kola hadn’t made any progress at all. So the family’s hope of finding Nichols alive was fading, leaving everyone distraught.

Apple woke to police sirens blaring outside the window. She got up from the couch and looked around. The apartment was quiet and empty. After walking from room to room, she saw her mother passed out naked on her bed with an empty bottle of vodka on the nightstand. Drinking herself to death was Denise’s way of coping with the situation.

Apple sighed and closed the bedroom door. She went into the kitchen. It was messy as usual, with dishes piled up and roaches scampering around. She wiped the few tears from her eyes, thinking about how Nichols was the one always cleaning up and cooking. She realized that her family took Nichols for granted, and now with her gone, it was hurting Apple deeply.

When Apple heard more police sirens outside, she knew something had happened. She peered out the window and could see the strong police activity by the dumpster, located a few feet from where Cross and his crew hung out. She noticed they were sealing off the area with yellow tape. Her first thought was homicide—something common in her hood.

Apple watched the police in action. When they shut down the block, she knew it was something serious. She observed two detectives walking to the scene, and a small crowd began gathering behind the yellow tape and whispering among themselves.

Suddenly, Apple felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach, unexpectedly roused by a troubling thought. It was obvious they had found a body. She thought the worst, yet prayed that it wasn’t Nichols. Rushing from the window, she ran into her room to slip into something decent.

The crime scene on 132nd Street, across the street from the projects, was disturbing for most of the officers. They’d found the naked, battered body of a young teenage girl stuffed in a trash dumpster in a small lot with two gunshot wounds to her head. The detectives knew straightaway that she was raped. Beaten almost beyond recognition, her face was contorted, and her fingers and ribs were broken.

Uniformed officers and CSI flooded the area, causing bystanders to become curious as to who had been murdered. Word had gotten out that it was a young girl in her teens, but they didn’t know her name or exact age yet. However, some of the neighbors speculated but weren’t saying anything until the victim’s identity was confirmed.

The morning was overcome with death and the anguish on the detectives’ faces as they held their breaths, knowing it wouldn’t be easy relaying the news to the victim’s family. The area was dusted for fingerprints, and then the body was processed, which included taking photos, before being carefully removed from the dumpster a few hours after it was found by a group of young kids while playing.

A few bystanders cried out when word started getting around that it was Nichols’ body in the dumpster.

“Oh my God! Are you kidding me?” a young woman in her housecoat and slippers exclaimed when the news reached her. Her eyes welled up with tears. She had known little Nichols since she was in diapers.

Others were heartbroken about the news, stating she was a sweet, young girl, unlike her sisters, especially Kola. They all knew the family would be devastated, that there would be trouble in the hood when Kola found out about her sister’s murder. The crowd of onlookers suddenly noticed Apple rushing from her building.

Clad in a pair of white-and-blue pajama pants, flip-flops, and a T-shirt, with her hair wrapped tightly underneath a multi-colored scarf, Apple ran to the location with a sense of urgency, her eyes on the crime scene, where she noticed a body covered by a white sheet and surrounded by detectives and crime scene investigators.

The closer she got, the faster her heart beat, and the more she felt her chest tightening up. She had a gut feeling that something was wrong. Her eyes watered, but she wasn’t into full-blown tears yet. Not knowing the identity of the victim was eating her up inside. She needed to know who they’d found in the dumpster.

Apple was ready to rip through the crime scene tape and rush past the lone officer assigned to guard the scene, but he held her back.

“Miss, you can’t pass.”

She struggled with the officer, shouting, “Get off me! Get the f-uck off me! Yo, who they find? Who is that? Is that my sister? Is that f*ckin’ her?”

Apple struggled with the officer, who realized that, from her strong outburst, she had to be close to the victim. Still, he had a responsibility to the victim and the crime scene. He strengthened his hold on Apple. Other officers came to aid him, but they stood around and watched Apple cry out hysterically, all sympathetic to her.