“We didn’t find any evidence of that.”
“I believe he had a child with one of the character witnesses—Madelyn Price.”
“Really? The yoga teacher? No way! She was not his type.”
“Yes. Apparently, there was a bit of a love triangle. This Demario Masters is tied to both Liza and Madelyn. In the nineties, Liza lived literally around the corner from Madelyn, their boyfriends were friends, and Liza’s body was found in the alley between the two streets where they lived.”
“The murder was in 2011. How do you think that fits?”
“I’m not sure. I just think it’s too much of a coincidence that Madelyn Price and Liza both lived in that neighborhood, and that they were involved with the same thug.”
“You have a point, but Masters has been in jail for a while. He wasn’t free during the time of the murder.”
“Yeah, but I think Masters may have known a guy who was dating Liza at the time.”
“And you think the murder in 2011 was a revenge plot?”
It all sounded so far-fetched, but street life and poverty were fueled by necessity. The dealers never made enough to elevate themselves from the neighborhood, and the hits they carried out were usually determined by desperation. What I couldn’t figure out was why someone would come back and kill Liza after more than a decade had passed.
“I just want a little info before I drive out to the state prison to talk to this guy. What’s his Achilles heel?”
Cole shook his head and smirked.
“You really think there’s something there, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Just have a feeling.”
“Okay. Well, like I told you, this guy, he’s smart. He knows how to manipulate, but he was abused as a child. The pain and suffering from his childhood really makes him long for normalcy. Underneath all the violence, all he ever wanted was what we all want: love, money, family…a place to belong. He was just too sick to make it all work out.”
“If he’s a psychopath, he can’t feel empathy.”
“No, but he’s a high-functioning psychopath…He knows that he’s different. He’d never admit that the difference is the reason he is not able to function, but he’s aware of it. Play his game—that’s how you’ll get info out of him.”
Coldness…I’m not unfamiliar with it, nor am I above using it as a tactic. Some people become savvy criminals; others go into law enforcement.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Did you talk to the sister-in-law?”
“Yes. She gave me some information. The Starks are in construction, and the Abernathys are in real estate. Liza was going to be added to her father’s will and the brother didn’t like that.”
Cole’s eyes lit up. I watched a nervous hand grip the edge of his non-fat soy latte.
“What?”
Cole swirled his drink in a circle. A possible attempt to further mix his fancy coffee, or a show of nervous energy?
“The chief wasn’t too keen on the case…Just be careful.”
“Why?”
“Well, some people thought that she got exactly what she deserved. Women don’t get the benefit of the doubt when they’re out cheating.”
“What evidence was there that she was cheating?”
“Location, location, location.”
“You don’t think there could be any other explanation?
“You got a better reason why she was sniffing around Brightmoor?” Cole asked.
“I work infidelity cases and this thing feels different. I think something from the past came back to haunt Liza. Her friend is tied up in this thing too. I just have to figure out how.”
“Maybe we missed something. Like I said, no one wanted us to dig too deep.”
“I know how that goes. Any last-minute advice for my visit with Masters?”
“When you go to see this guy, you need to make him think that you respect his intelligence, and treat him like you would an old friend, or something like that. He is huge on respect. Oh, and take some Twinkies and Mountain Dew with you. The guys around the precinct told me he loves that stuff.”
“Respect. Okay—I can do that. Disgusting pop and sugar filled sponges masquerading as food… Any other tips?”
“Don’t ask him about the crime he committed. He’s adamant that he didn’t do it. The sexual abuse he experienced as a child really scarred him, and I think it drives him crazy to know that he has caused a child the same type of pain he experienced.”
“I don’t have any power to wheel or deal. Better do some recon before I drive two and a half hours.”
“He has family in the area. You might want to talk to them first. They’ll know more about him than I do. I just know what we saw in the courtroom.”
I thanked Cole and went back to the office to conduct more research on Masters and his family. The summary of Demario Masters’ life looked dismal, even on paper. He was number four of five children. One sister was deceased, one lived in California, and one lived in Brightmoor. There wasn’t a current address for Demario’s brother, but there was a number for Sara Quick, the sister in California, and an address for his other sister, Alyssa Masters.
Masters only had two siblings who had avoided the criminal justice system—the half-sister, Sara Quick, who was fifteen years older than the next sibling, and Daria, the deceased sibling who had been three years older than Demario. Alyssa Masters had a mugshot online, plus a list of petty offenses. Sara Quick, by all appearances, was doing well: she was a psychiatric nurse with three sons of her own, living in southern California. Sara’s social media pages presented her as being single, and all her pictures included one or more of her three, curly-haired boys. Her sons looked to be in their twenties, and each one had inherited her mysterious hazel eyes. They were quite a lovely family. I hated to bother them, but just as in Peter’s case, no one dishes like a sibling. Perhaps the geographical separation was in place for a reason.
The phone rang once before the call connected.
“This is Sara Quick,” said the woman on the other end of the phone in a monotonous voice.
“Hello, Miss Quick. My name is Sylvia Wilcox. I’m a private investigator reviewing the murder of Liza Abernathy, a woman I’ve been told dated your brother at one time.”
Brief silence was followed by a frustrated sigh.
“I remember Liza. She was trash, but so was my brother…Just trashy people. I’m sorry that she was murdered, but she wasn’t the best person.”
“Would you mind telling me what you remember about your brother Demario and his relationship with Liza Abernathy?”
“My brother is just like his father, Albert Masters: a cheater, dishonest, and not fit for society. The difference was that Albert was smart enough to stay out of prison, but my brothers didn’t inherit his cunning ways. They are both stupid criminals.”
Dead air space followed a short pause. I waited for more information.
“Liza Abernathy wasn’t a good person…She was like my father. My mother, who was also a swindling, criminal-minded individual, met my father Oliver Quick, got pregnant, and the man never showed his face again. Liza was like him. She went slumming for a while, found the worst man she could locate, and then ran away one night. She left her first-born child with a criminal.”
A child? This was the first I’d heard of a child outside of Liza’s marriage. The pictures of her, Demario Masters, and the baby flashed through my mind.
“Liza had a child with your brother?”
“Yes. They had a little girl and she left her with my brother. Don’t you think that’s trashy?”
I ignored the question and asked, “Do you know where the daughter is?”
“Not off-hand.”
“Do you think that Demario would have gotten in touch with Liza before her murder?”
“Possibly. I haven’t spoken to my brother or my other siblings in a few years. I send cards for the holidays, but that is the extent of our connection these days. I moved to Californi
a to get away from my family. They were constantly asking for money, and we’re just halves—none of them are whole siblings—so I packed my bags and moved as far as possible away from them.”
I was sketching a rough family tree for the Abernathys and the Masters while I listened to Sara Quick. Her bitterness was thick and harsh. Once again, an angry sibling was ready to talk.
“What happened to your niece?”
“No idea. She could be dead, or she could be in the juvenile justice system by now. The Masters have bad blood. I tried my best to keep my boys away from them.”
“Do you know Madelyn Price?”
“Yes. My brother had a baby with her as well, but Madelyn was smart. She just made a mistake when she was young, but after a short time with Demario, she got wise and left him. I don’t think he ever saw her little girl again. Sounds bad, but it was definitely for the best.”
“Liza Abernathy abandoned her child to Demario? I know you haven’t had contact with her in a while, but do you remember her name?”
“Danica. She was a cute little thing; deserved something better than those two losers. I haven’t had much contact, but I’m willing to bet she is in a terrible place…if she’s made it this far.”
The accounts of Liza’s life continued to take sad turns. I’d never met Liza, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way her life had worked out. Distant parents, angry brother…at least she had Carson and Abigail. I took a small comfort in the idea that Liza had a few people in her life who truly knew and loved her.
“Thank you so much for speaking with me. Is there anything else you can think of?”
“Liza was probably seeing some guy in Brightmoor. She was obsessed with my brother. It didn’t matter what he did, she fought to be with him.”
“Do you recall when they met?”
“Let’s see…He was incarcerated between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, so he would have gotten out in January 1996. He met Madelyn, who was just a kid, and got her pregnant, but she was always too smart for him. Cunning and crafty, but not the worst person in the world. We knew she would leave him sooner or later. Liza gave birth not too long after Madelyn’s baby turned a year old. That was when Madelyn decided to leave him.”
I had stopped drawing the family tree. Madelyn Price had a child by Demario Masters. I thought of the calm, quiet yoga teacher living in the converted farmhouse on the outskirts of Ann Arbor. In theory, there was no way she had ever been connected to a thug, but the proof was overwhelming that she, in fact, had been involved with Demario Masters. But what was even more shocking, was that Liza had a child with Demario and this was the first I was hearing of her. It was unbelievable.
“Miss Quick, I just want to be sure that I have this straight.”
“Okay.”
“Liza Abernathy and Madelyn Price both have children by Demario Masters? They were caught in a love triangle that resulted in two children, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Liza and Madelyn were enemies, or at least rivals?”
“Correct.”
My brain almost refused to accept what I was being told. Then I started analyzing the conversation I’d had with Madelyn. She and Liza had met when they were living a “different kind of life”. Their boyfriends hadn’t been friends. Instead, the two women had been involved with the same man.
“Miss Quick, thank you so much for the information.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I appreciate your time.”
I grabbed my pen and started writing down the suspected timeline. Madelyn had given birth to a baby in December 1996, and Liza’s baby had been born in April of 1998. The timeline was remarkably short. Demario and Liza would have been living in Brightmoor around that time, and somehow, Madelyn had neglected to bring up this curious connection she shared with Liza. In so doing, Madelyn Price had just moved into the number one murder suspect spot.
Chapter Nine
Charles sent me a text that evening about meeting with his informant, Don. He’d set it up for 10:00 the next morning at Lucy’s Coney Island in Brightmoor. After my run, Martin came over and I informed him of what I’d learned.
“Madelyn Price is our suspect?” he asked.
“Yes. She lied about how she met Liza, and she was also part of a love triangle between her, Demario, and Liza. Revenge—maybe a little jealousy or envy…I don’t know, but she’s number one and I need anything you can find on her. Anything.”
“Okay.”
“I have to meet up with an informant in Brightmoor. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
The freeways were kind and I arrived at Lucy’s Coney Island around 9:45 a.m. A tall man in a black hoodie and dark glasses stood out front. Don was lanky and rough around the edges, but you could see that he had once been attractive. His dark skin showed the wear and tear of short stints in jail, and a life spent in poverty. He was standing in front of the restaurant smoking a cigarette when I pulled up. Charles must have told him what I looked like, because he stomped out his smoke, pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, and slipped them on.
“Don?”
“I guess you must be Sylvia,” he said, holding out his hand.
He gave my hand a vigorous shake before opening the door to the restaurant and following me to a booth in the back. As we sat down, I told him to order anything he wanted.
“Thanks so much for meeting with me.”
“No thang,” he said, removing his sunglasses.
“I’m looking for information on a woman named Madelyn Price. She would have lived on Dolphin Street between ’96 and ’98. She was sixteen when she moved there, and she had a child named Kara.”
Don scratched his bald head and pulled a menu out of the carousel at the end of the
table.
“You talkin’ ’bout old times. I think I smoked away anythang from the nineties. I was just a kid then.”
I dug a printout of Madelyn’s high school yearbook picture out of my purse and laid it in front of him.
“Super-smart girl; she wasn’t from these parts.”
Don picked up the picture and studied it. His eyebrows creased. I could see the wheels turning. Ah yes, the agony of a pothead who strives to remember…
“That Stripe girl.”
“Who?”
“Stripe…he was this badass used to run with a gang. I wasn’t never into gang stuff, but I know Stripe because he tried to roll for a while. He was lazy, tho. Couldn’t leave him up in a spot if you wanted anything to get done.”
“I’m guessing that his real name was not Stripe?”
“Probably not. Didn’t know him too well. Just smoked wit ’im every now and then. Had a lot of hair. Wore it in braids most of the time. Would puff it out every now and then.”
An afro. Reminded me of what Peter Abernathy had told me about the man Liza had brought home for the holidays.
“What else can you tell me?” I asked, pulling out my notepad.
“He ’bout the same height as me. Some called ’im D. Used to be skinny…always pissed off…ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Had a kid or two…one might be this lady’s baby. I don’t know.”
Procreating with someone who called himself Stripe—that didn’t sound like the little prim and proper Madelyn Price I knew.
“Do you remember a girl named Liza?” I asked, pulling one of the photos out of my purse Peter had given me and setting it on the table.
Don looked at the picture, squinting his eyes and scratching his brow.
“Yeah. I remember her. She was Stripe’s girl too. Once there was like a showdown between the two…It was wild.”
“Can you tell me anything else about Liza?”
“Not really. I didn’t know her, but I remember the drama.”
“What can you tell me about the drama?”
“Two girls fightin’ over a dude who didn’t care nothing for neither one of them. Don’t know much about it. Just know it was the gossip throughout the h
ood.”
I asked a few more questions that didn’t net answers, told Don to order, paid his tab, and left.
That night, I stayed at home and restricted myself from looking at any information about the case. Instead of working overtime, I seared a tenderloin, steamed asparagus, poured a glass of merlot, and had a quiet dinner at the long pine table in the living room. I’d decorated the house with quaint antique furniture from thrift stores and estate sales. People were always throwing out old pieces of furniture because it wasn’t new. I admired the past and spent my free time restoring the items I picked up. After dinner, I climbed into the bronze claw-foot tub in the master bathroom and soaked. My life wasn’t perfect, but I had never had the type of pain and suffering Liza must have experienced. A sense of gratitude warmed my heart.
“I’m lucky,” I muttered, and smiled before getting out of the tub, drying off, and sliding under the soft, cool bamboo sheets.
***
The next morning, Martin stopped by as I was finishing breakfast. I fixed him a plate of leftovers, two slices of bacon, and scrambled eggs, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. He looked disheveled and exhausted.
“Long night?” I asked.
“Not too bad. I guess I’m just struggling to see any decent angles in this case.”
I felt a tinge of pain for pulling Martin into this murder case. We’d been working on infidelity cases for well over a year. Initially, I wasn’t open to any cases that involved missing children or murder, because those are the two types of cases that get personal for me. One of the reasons I’d allowed my brother-in-law to be my assistant was because I thought it would be a good way to keep him safe. There was a certain amount of guilt in my heart over Derek’s death. Keeping Martin safe and mentally healthy were priorities.
“Well, this is a tough case. Not really one I should have taken, and it’s getting dangerous. I think you should stand down. I can handle this one.”
“What’s dangerous about it?”
“I believe Madelyn killed Liza, but Madelyn and Liza were both involved with a gang member. I’m headed to the prison in Muskegon to visit Demario Masters. He’s gang-affiliated, and he comes from a criminal family.”
Who She Was Page 14
