Posted at 4:53 am on Nov 7, 2015 by:
Deadblood (Undisputed Mortal Wrestling Champion)
Davenport! Get Mr. Griswold's car back and bring it back here!
Many thoughts went through Deadblood's head at that moment, at least a couple of them involving stuffing Sheri into the trunk of her new car. He remained civil for the time being.
"Officers, as much as I'd like to help you out, that isn't something I can just simply pull out here and now for you! I mean, I might be a CW MegaStar, but that's all I am. Just an employee! " The second officer nodded at the Undisputed Mortal Wrestling Champion's words, understanding, or at least trying to. DB stepped outside with the officers, slowly walking back with them to their cruiser. "Now I'm not going to just leave you flapping in the breeze here. Can I see one of your notepads for a second?" The first officer handed him a pad along with its pen. DB briefly wrote down something for them. "This is Sheri's number. She's kind of my agent and usually takes care of these types of things. So next time there's a CW show you want to attend, just call her up, any time of the day or night! She knows how to arrange to get you tickets, backstage passes, whatever you want." He knew that she wouldn't be thrilled with him giving the cops her number, but as far as he was concerned, she brought it on herself.
The officers were grateful, particularly the second officer, thanking Deadblood several times before finally leaving. When DB got back inside, Sheri was continuing to cook dinner. It smelled good, but that wasn't why he chose to not chew her out over telling the cops that he could get them backstage passes. He didn't chew her out because he wanted their eventual phone call to come as a complete surprise to her.
He went back to his laptop and within a couple minutes, he had all the basics behind the mansion. By the time Sheri told him dinner was ready, he had a whole sheet full of information for her.
Sitting across from her at the table, he didn't touch the food just yet even as she started. "The owner of that mansion is Cleon Quintus Johnson, aka Biggie Mac. Born in 1976, raised in New York. He's involved in all sorts pleasant business and owning fast food restaurants isn't one of them. Prostitution, drugs, black market weapons, suspected armed robbery, suspected murder. His slime ball of a lawyer's managed to keep him out of prison since he was nineteen."
Sheri stopped chewing as she listened. It sounded like they were dealing with a real life Tony Montana. "I guess this explains the shooting gallery we were involved in tonight."
"Yeah, it does. But the real question is, is he murdering his own prostitutes?" Sliding the sheet of paper across the table to her, Deadblood started filling his own plate with food.
