Harvey didn’t respond to Penny’s statement. He didn’t feel the need to justify his feelings to her.
“You said that your boyfriend’s mother works there. What’s her name?”
“Valerie Wood. She said she would be happy to help in any way that she can. She’s always trying to help someone.”
“Do you know her well?”
“Well enough. We ride together to work each morning. She thinks… Well, she thinks the same as you do. She doesn’t really appreciate my opinions.”
“Good. I’m going to go down there and discuss the case with her. Call her and make an appointment for later this afternoon.”
“I’m onto it, boss,” Penny responded. “When I saw Nicole this morning, she mentioned that I might be needed at the trial—to take notes and run any urgent tasks for you. I was quite excited by that. Will you need me at the trial?”
“No, Penny. It’s not going to get that far.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to catch the killer before then.”
Chapter 21
The busy café was buzzing with the hipster coffee crowd. The drinks were served in recycled jars, the food was so organic that it was almost still alive, and the barista’s beard was so big it could double as a sweater. The busy crowd was hip, trendy, and young.
The older figures of Bill Harvey and Nicole Cowan stood out like grandparents at a music festival.
“I don’t know why you insist on coming to places like this,” Nicole commented. “Every time we have coffee, you take me to a new place, but in the end, it’s still just coffee.”
“Places like this are different. I really like different. It’s good to be able to see the world from another point of view. If we went to the same diner every week, for our whole lives, we would only see the same things, every week, for the rest of our lives. I need more than that. I like being on the cutting edge, pushing limits, thinking differently. I need new experiences, excitement, ideas. Going to new places keeps me going.”
“That’s why we’re different, Bill. I could easily go to the same place for the rest of my life. I don’t need new experiences. I just need to work towards what I love.” Nicole readjusted her shirt in an effort to look good for the man sitting across from her. Despite her shaved head and the tattoos covering her left arm, she still dressed like a regular bookkeeper during the week—white shirt, black pencil skirt, lackluster shoes. “So what’s this about? Why the need to see me so quickly?”
“It’s about Penny.”
“Ah,” Nicole responded knowingly.
“By that reaction, I guess you know what I’m going to say.”
“I think so.” She sighed. “She can’t keep her mouth shut, can she?”
Harvey nodded his response.
“Sometimes, she’s really good. Sometimes, she doesn’t say a word. Other times, well, she isn’t. She hasn’t really learned to keep her mouth shut yet. She’s a bit loose with her opinions, and she doesn’t mind vocalizing them.”
“Those sorts of opinions don’t belong in my office. I understand the fire in her stomach, but my office is a professional environment, and I can’t have that sort of behavior in my line of work. It’s inappropriate. If she doesn’t settle down, I’ll have no choice but to let her go.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Nicole grimaced. “She’s getting better. She really is. Penny isn’t as bad as she used to be, and I guess, I compare her to the times when she was really bad. But she’s always had this problem. Her opinions are loud and crazy. She’s been fired so many times for running her mouth off at inappropriate times.”
“I’ve warned her to settle down, but I thought it might be good if you do the same. I need her to keep those opinions in check, or I can’t have her in the office. I don’t want to fire her, but she is giving me no choice.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Nicole nodded.
She felt guilty.
She pushed Harvey to take on Penny for the temporary position, and although she warned him about Penny’s past, maybe she didn’t warn him enough.
When Penny Pearson came into her care as an eight-year-old, she was a cute blonde girl who had been through a lot. Penny’s mother was meek, a person that accepted her fate without argument.
Nicole, however, was the opposite. She was different. Stronger. More determined. She hated seeing her little sister give up on things without a fight, and so she set about toughening up Penny.
She would not let her niece suffer the same fate.
Nicole encouraged her to express her opinions, to never take a backward step. She led by example, and Penny soon took it all in.
And when Penny hit her teenage years, she found her own voice. Hormones and attitude; an explosive mix. But nothing had made Nicole prouder. She had taken a quiet girl and transformed her into a wildcat.
Penny yelled when needed, fought when required, and roared when she felt like it.
Except Penny never learned how to control those emotions. She didn’t have an off switch.
It soon became apparent that this would become a problem. After being expelled from two high schools, Nicole started to take her to therapy sessions where she learned to talk about her feelings, instead of screaming them away.
It worked, for the most part.
As she grew older, Penny controlled her violent outbursts thanks to the skills she learned in counseling; however, the remnants of Nicole’s teaching were still clear.
Penny just didn’t know when to close her mouth.
“Are the legal studies going well?”
“They are.” Nicole smiled. Bill Harvey was the only man that had ever paid her any real interest. She was much too strong for most men.
“It’s very honorable, the path you’re taking. Helping those that can’t afford it.”
“I just want to do my bit for the world.” Nicole grinned. “We’re studying self-defense at the moment.”
After twenty years as a bookkeeper, trawling through spreadsheets and receipts, Nicole had her mid-life crisis—she bought a motorbike, shaved her head after a lifetime of long hair, had her left arm inked, and started studying law.
Motivated to enter the legal fraternity after volunteering at a domestic violence shelter, Nicole Cowan wanted to help those who found themselves in situations where the law couldn’t assist them. Law had always interested her. The twists and turned of a case had kept her glued to the pages of her books for many long hours into the night.
“Self-defense is an interesting concept. You’re allowed to use force to defend yourself if you feel in danger.” Harvey sipped at his warm coffee. “I’ve defended a few people charged with assault when, in reality, they were acting in self-defense. It’s complex, but that defense is vital to the structure of our society.”
“It’s got me thinking though. If you encourage someone to attack you, is it still self-defense if you injure them? If you’re making them react, can you still claim self-defense?”
“If they use force, then you are allowed to return the same.” He smiled as he talked about the complexities of legal studies. It reminded him of his days when he was fresh into law, and the concepts were still new and fascinating.
“Interesting.” She smiled at him, twirling her dark brunette hair with one finger.
Sitting with a posture perfected after years of martial arts training, she never took a backward step, and most men were intimidated by that. Most men ran a mile when they realized just how tough she was.
But not Bill Harvey.
That was why she adored this man. He wasn’t intimidated by her martial arts competition wins, her steely stare, or her broad shoulders and muscular arms.
She liked that.
A lot.
After they went to and fro for the next ten minutes about the intricacy of lawful self-defense, Harvey placed his empty coffee cup on the table. “So what are we going to do with Penny?”
“Just give her another chance. I’ll talk to her again, and
tell her that she really needs to behave in that professional environment. She really, really loves working for you, so that should be motivation enough.”
Harvey looked around the room, thinking over his options. “I’ll give her a second chance, but she needs to hold her tongue. If she doesn’t, she’s out.”
“She’ll listen to me.” Nicole grinned. “She always does.”
Chapter 22
As Bill Harvey walked into the Wells Community Center for Mental Health, the first thing that struck him was the subdued mood.
This was a center that Harvey knew well, but he was still surprised by the feeling in the foyer.
The center was more reminiscent of a drab school building than a place to care for those with mental illnesses. Plain red brick on the outside; bare white walls on the inside. The carpet was dull gray, the walls devoid of any posters, color or pictures.
Almost sterile.
“Bill Harvey?! Well, I’ll be!” The lady behind the front desk was large, loud, and full of love. Running out from behind the desk, she embraced him in a hug, pulling him close and squeezing him against her sizable bosoms. “It’s been a long time.”
“Life has gotten in the way.” Harvey smiled as she slowly released him, keeping her hands on his arms. “It’s good to set foot back in here. I have a lot of good memories from volunteering here.”
Up until five years ago, Harvey spent an hour each week talking to people, helping them, and guiding them to recovery. He would sit with the mental health patients, listen to their story and let them know that they weren’t alone in the world. A listening ear, a touch on the shoulder, a kind word when needed.
After watching his sister battle depression and loneliness for many years, he learned that it was time, an ear, and human contact that many people needed to help ease their pain. He wasn’t a psychologist, but that’s not what they needed from him. They needed to feel connected to the world.
He could draw out a great story from within even the quietest person. Although he would never claim that he helped cure them of any illness, he knew that the time he gave to them eased their pain.
It was his way of giving back to the community after they had helped his isolated sister recover from her issues.
And listening to their stories helped him deal with a lot of the emotions he was struggling with at the time. When his wife first became ill with cancer, he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He drank too much, avoided his wife, and spent too many hours in the office. But coming here, listening to the pain of those worse off than him, helped him gain perspective. It developed a sense of gratitude for where he was in life.
That perspective, that sense of gratitude, put him back on the right path.
But life got in the way.
After his wife passed away, he couldn’t bring himself back. Although he still sent a monthly check to the center, he knew that the center needed hands to help, as much as they need the money.
“You look lovely, Maria. You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.” Harvey smiled his charming smile.
“Oh, Bill. You always knew how to make a person feel good about themselves.”
As the head counselor at the center, Maria Bale had seen pain, sadness, and depression on a daily basis for the past ten years. Approaching sixty-five years old, she knew this was her way to leave a legacy, a way to make the world a better place. When a man with a smile like Bill Harvey walked into her room, she couldn’t be happier. It was such a contrast from her day job.
“How’s the center going these days?”
“We’re going well these days. Obviously, mental health had gotten more coverage in the media, and that means more acceptance for our patients. And because of that, we also receive more funding—both from the government and from private donors. Things have been going along well. Being accepted means a lot to some people.”
“Acceptance is the key.” He looked around the foyer and saw it had barely changed since he was last there—same dull red counter at the end, same worn beige carpet, same light still busted in the corner of the room.
“Once people accept that mental illness is as much a disease as a physical injury, then there will be a lot more knowledge in the community. Knowledge is powerful. People struggling with these things need our time, not judgment.”
“Well said.”
“You know, we have a new meditation course starting soon, and we are always looking for more people to help out?”
“Ah, Maria.” Harvey smiled. “Always looking to draw people in. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time at the moment. I’m busy and—”
“Of course.” She waved his excuse away. “You don’t need to make up excuses for me. I know how much time and hard work you have put into this place. You shouldn’t feel guilty for not being here. And thank you for the monthly check donations that you still send. Those amounts mean the world to us.”
“It’s my pleasure. After what this place did for my sister, bringing her back from the brink of depression, it means the world to me. The fact that someone is there when people need it, the fact that you are here, Maria, changes lives. Nothing is more valuable than that.”
Maria smiled proudly. “So how can I help you, Harvey?”
“I have an appointment to talk with Valerie Wood, the center manager.”
“Of course.” Maria smiled. “Follow me. Her office is over here.”
He followed Maria as she moved past the counter and into the tight hallway, not quite big enough for two people to pass each other. Maria gently knocked on one of the office doors. Popping her head into the room, she whispered, “Bill Harvey is here to see you.”
The reply was loud. “Bill? Send him through.”
Maria opened the door wide enough for him to enter. “It’s good to see you, Bill. You look great.”
“Thanks, Maria, you too.” Confidently, he walked into the small office, just large enough to fit a small desk, four chairs, a bookshelf, and a narrow bench for the coffee dripper.
“I’m sorry that the office is so small.” Valerie Wood stood, offering her handshake as a warm welcome.
“Money is better spent on other things than office space.” Harvey warmly shook her hand.
“Very true. Please, sit down.” Valerie Wood was used to meeting high-powered, confident men. In the first twenty years of her working life, she was the one smashing glass ceilings. She fought harder than the men, argued louder, worked longer hours. That was the only way she could get in front.
She climbed the ladders, making her way to CEO of a large marketing firm. She was proud, but it wasn’t her calling in life. Even with the accomplishments, she felt unfulfilled.
And despite her success in the corporate world, her life wasn’t easy. Her husband lost his left arm in a work accident, and he spent his days unemployed, living off the compensation. When her husband hit her for the first time, she didn’t worry too much. He was drunk, and she excused the behavior. The second time, it was harder.
Then, he was drinking every day, trying to escape the boredom of being unproductive. And every time he drank, he beat her. Their young son witnessed it all, and it formed him into the man he was today.
Despite the pain, Valerie stood by her husband, determined to help him out of his addiction. Two years ago, her husband passed away after years of struggling with alcohol. That’s when she took the time to reassess her life, and think about the path she was taking.
After quitting her job as a high-powered executive, she took a position managing the Wells Community Center for Mental Health at the edge of Skid Row—her way of using her management skills to help others in need. Her way of helping others escape the pain that she experienced.
“I hear that you used to volunteer here as well?” She opened the conversation. “When I said that you were coming, Maria was very happy. You obviously left quite an impression on her.”
“I used to help here many years ago.” Harvey shrugged. “It must have been a long time
before you started.”
“Well, thank you, regardless of how long it was that you did it. I’ve been here for just over a year and a half now. I used to have a position with a large management consulting firm, but I have found my calling here. This is the place I was always supposed to work. I feel like I’m making a difference, and it just feels comfortable here. It feels right working here, making a difference.” She smiled. “So, Mr. Harvey, how is that we can help you?”
“I’m after information. We’re investigating the death of a man that once attended here.”
“Ah, yes. Penny called earlier today and told me all about it. She had mentioned that she was doing temp work for you.”
“She’s an interesting girl, that Penny.”
“She’s been through a lot.” Valerie shrugged. “She’s dating my son, Caleb.”
“Caleb is your son?” Harvey started to piece the puzzle together.
“Have you met Caleb?”
“I have. We had a work dinner recently, and Penny brought Caleb along. Big guy, tattoos, former Marine?”
“That’s him. He’s my only child, and I’m very proud of him. I just hope that some of that goodness rubs off on some of Penny’s attitudes and not the other way around.” Valerie closed the file in front of her, then opened another one.
“I sent a copy of our file on Gerard West to Penny this morning. I figured we weren’t breaching privacy if you’re a lawyer, and investigating his death. Did you receive it?”
“We did. Thank you very much for that but I always find that reports miss something. A piece of paper never tells the full story. That’s why I am here. I was wondering if you could tell me in person what you remember about Gerard?”
“I don’t remember a lot about Gerard because we see so many people in here, but I’ll tell you what I know.” Valerie turned to the small bench in the back corner of the room and poured two cups of instant coffee, handing Harvey one. “I do remember feeling sorry for him. He had been through so much, and obviously, there was a lot of publicity about his downfall. He was trying to recover when he came in here. He was a very handsome man, and when he was feeling good, he was so charismatic and charming. He could light up a room—a lot like you. He was a good guy and lost his way in the throes of mental health issues. Never really had a chance when the illness took over.”
Bill Harvey Collection Page 24
