Who She Was

by Braylee Parkinson

  “Have you learned anything else about the Masters?”

  “Yes. I think it would be a good idea to track down the remaining siblings, especially the sister that lives in Detroit. She would likely have had more contact with Demario than the others. When I searched their names, I found that she and Demario lived under the same roof a number of times over the years.”

  “Danica probably lived with them as well.”

  “Exactly. We definitely need to find her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Martin and I ate dinner and talked. There was one subject that always seemed to come up when the shop talk ended.

  “So, I’ve been looking into Derek’s death.”

  I forked a piece of meatloaf into my mouth so that my silence wouldn’t seem strange.

  “Syl, I don’t think he committed suicide.”

  Chewing and staring off into the distance, I tried to remain cool and calm.

  “Are you going to respond?”

  “Marty, I don’t want to think about that right now.”

  “But what if there was a cover up and- “

  “Martin! Stop! Don’t do this to yourself-or me. Okay?”

  “I- “

  “No! Derek drove into the Huron River-that’s it. There weren't any other cars around and he just…He’s gone. We need to love and cherish his memory.”

  Martin shook his head, but switched subjects.

  “I’ve been researching Madelyn Price. Do you really see her as a viable suspect?”

  I was thankful that he had dropped the idea of investigating his brother’s suicide, but I knew he was going to quietly pursue it on his own. I wasn’t sure what to do about that, so I didn’t bring it up. Instead, I followed Martin’s pivot to a new topic.

  “She’s a possibility, but I see your point. We do need to consider other suspects, like Danica and possibly Peter, but Madelyn has more motive than anyone else we’ve come across.”

  “Do you really think she’s our killer? She just seems like a little yoga instructor.”

  “Upstanding, but full of secrets. When I was a cop, sometimes it was the least likely person who committed the crime. I’d have my eyes set on the obvious perpetrator, ready to strike at the first sign of a misstep, and then the upstanding, righteous person would do something that would change the course of the investigation.”

  “Fair enough, but motive seems to be missing.”

  “The past could be her motive. Something happened and she decided it was time to strike.”

  “Like what? What would make her kill Liza after more than a decade of being done with the love triangle?”

  Martin was right. Madelyn Price did seem at peace with the world and it was clear that her relationship with Liza was intact at the time of the murder. They may have come together over time, creating some type of alliance against Demario Masters.

  “Well, I’ll have more information tomorrow. Abigail and Peter Abernathy seem eager to speak with me. Maybe they can shed some light on an alternate suspect. Enough shop talk…I’m going to settle in for the night. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “Thanks, but I better get home.”

  I considered prying and asking if home was still a rented room in the basement of his old college roommate’s house, but I refrained. He was a grown man, free to do what he pleased without an overbearing sister-in-law monitoring his life choices.

  “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” I pushed back from the table and gathered our dinner plates.

  “My mom is back.”

  The plates on my forearm wobbled a bit. A fork went crashing to the floor.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I don’t want you to worry. She’s been okay this time. I really think she wants to have me in her life now.”

  “Of course. I just…I’m happy to hear that.” I wasn’t, but what else could I say?

  “I better get going,” Martin said, slowly backing away from the table, but maintaining eye contact. He wanted my approval. It mattered to him, so I did my best to smooth out the worry lines in my brow and smile.

  “Alright, kiddo. Have a good night.”

  “You too. Thanks for dinner, Syl.”

  ***

  I pulled into Abigail Abernathy’s driveway just after 9:00 the next morning. The doorbell echoed through the hallway and I listened to Abigail lumbering through the foyer. She was smiling when she opened the door. Peter was standing in the background with his hands in his pockets. He nodded and forced a shy smirk onto his face.

  “C’mon in. We’re ready. Want some tea or coffee? We’ve got some pastries on the table too.”

  “Coffee would be great,” I said, climbing onto one of the bistro chairs around the red, diner-style table.

  While Abigail was in the kitchen, Peter came and sat at the table.

  “Mr. Abernathy, thank you so much for agreeing to do this. I think—”

  “I want you to find ’im.”

  “Yes, I want to—”

  “Mrs. Wilcox, my youngest kid had a birthday the other day. My sister’s kids were there, but my sister…she couldn’t be there, and she’ll never be there. Really hit me, ya know? Because someone took her life, she’s gone. Find this son of a bitch, Mrs. Wilcox. Whatever you need from us, we’re willing to do.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Abernathy—I really appreciate the help. I would like to talk with you and your wife about what I’ve learned over the past few days.”

  Abigail set a cup of piping hot coffee in front of me. I thanked her as she wiggled onto one of the bistro chairs.

  “Okay. We’re ready for it. Tell us,” Abigail said.

  “Peter, did you know that Madelyn and Liza both dated Demario Masters, the man in the picture you gave me?”

  Peter frowned and shook his head. “No way. Madelyn is a good girl. She wouldn’t have nothing to do with a jerk like that.”

  I decided not to force the issue. Peter obviously had some warm feelings for Madelyn. If I pushed too hard, he’d probably shut down.

  “Who is Demario Masters?” Abigail asked.

  “A man that Liza dated a long time ago.”

  “Hmm…Interesting,” she said.

  “Mr. Abernathy, I need you to think about when Liza lived out of state. Did you have any contact with her?”

  “No. I didn’t know that she had lived out of state, but then again, like I told you, we haven’t ever been close.”

  “She lived in New Orleans for a few months.”

  “Really? I never knew that. Did she go there with that dude?”

  “Yes. Liza moved back to Michigan in early 2000, leaving her daughter behind with Demario and his mother.”

  “Daughter? What?”

  “Liza and Demario had a child in 1998, right before they moved to New Orleans. It looks like Liza may have left both Demario and the baby in New Orleans. When did you say that she reconciled with your parents?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure on exact dates, but she was definitely around in 2000. I remember coming home from state and being shocked when she pulled open the door. She didn’t move back in until 2001, but she was around a little before that.”

  “Do you recall her mentioning the name Danica?”

  “Never. Who is that?”

  “Danica Masters is her daughter.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Well, initially, I thought she had died as a toddler—sudden infant death, an infection, something like that—but I can’t find anything that indicates she is deceased.”

  “Oh, no.” Abigail sighed.

  Peter ran his hands through his spiked hair.

  “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I have a niece out there that I don’t know? Liza left her with that loser’s family? How old is she now?”

  “About fifteen. I haven’t had any luck tracking her down, but just because there aren’t clear records of her doesn’t mean she’s not out there. If she was left with the Masters, there’s no way to know how she was raised,
or if she was taken to school. There is one curious court case from twelve years ago.”

  “What is the case about?”

  “Custody. Liza fought for custody.”

  “She…never told us…” For the first time, Peter looked sad. His forehead creased, and he sat silent for a moment.

  “Listen, I know we probably sound like the most dysfunctional family ever, but you have to understand. Mom was always trying to put on this show, and if we didn’t go along with it, she tried to force it. You know what I mean?”

  “Why don’t you explain it to me. Just to be sure I understand,” I said, gently encouraging Peter to open up and share more information.

  “Mom wanted this perfect little family, and we weren’t that. She wasn’t willing to accept that we were human, so she forced us to do a lot of things that we didn’t want to do…some of which weren’t good for us. Liza had to take all these ridiculous classes and extracurricular things because the other girls on our block were taking them. My sister was different. She needed more guidance than most, but my mom treated her like she had superstar intelligence, you know what I mean?”

  “I don’t want to assume anything,” I said, avoiding agreement so that Peter would continue.

  “Okay, well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that Liza was a little behind the curve. At times, she needed someone to remind her to bathe, eat, wash her hands, and there was no way she was going to complete her homework without a massive amount of help. She wasn’t someone who did well on her own. My mom couldn’t handle that. She refused to accept that Liza had a few screws loose.”

  Loose screws? I wasn’t sure if Peter was telling me that Liza was intellectually challenged, or if she had experienced some type of mental illness. Whatever the case, it sounded like Mrs. Abernathy had been disappointed in her.

  “I know Carson isn’t your favorite person, but I’m wondering how he and Liza got together. You said that Liza had some challenges, but Carson is a surgeon. How did those two get together?”

  “I don’t know if it will be relevant, but they hooked up when Liza worked at a hospital for a while. I think she was a CNA or something like that. At one time, she had thought of becoming a nurse, but the coursework was too rigorous. She never passed the test for her teacher certification either. The girl wasn’t good with academics, but from what I’ve heard, she really took to the CNA thing. Carson met her at the hospital, so he would have seen her in her best light.”

  “Liza was a Certified Nurse Assistant at the hospital, and that’s how she met Carson?”

  “Well, she volunteered at the hospital for a while before she worked there. Liza had a good heart…She could be very frustrating at times, but she always liked to help people if she could. By the time she met Carson, she’d been at our parents’ house for a while. Since she wasn’t working full-time, she decided to volunteer to fill up her free time. Mom suggested that she might want to become a nurse, Liza said okay, became a CNA and enrolled in night school. The coursework was hard for her, and after working as a CNA for a while, she quit school and started thinking about other stuff she could do. She’d been around Carson for a while by then, so he probably mentioned that teaching was a noble profession, or something like that. He just happened to be Catholic, and I think that inspired her to want to teach at the Catholic school. We’re Lutheran, so I think she took the teaching job to impress Carson.”

  I knew that Peter wouldn’t be privy to major details about their courtship, but I was curious as to whether he knew one not-so-intimate detail.

  “What did you think of Carson when you first met him?”

  “I thought he was okay. I mean, he wasn’t really that bad at first. It seemed like he was really into Liza, so I liked him in the beginning.”

  “What changed?”

  Peter rubbed his hands through his hair again. This time, he dropped his head and shook it from side to side.

  “Mrs. Wilcox, I have to be honest here. I know I told you that I hated Carson, and that I thought he was responsible for Liza’s death, but you must understand. For the past several years, I’ve hated everyone. Carson ain’t my kind of person, but I think he genuinely loved my sister. He was gentle with her. It was like he understood her and loved her just the way she was. They were…happy.”

  Abigail ran her hand along Peter’s arm and gave it a squeeze. Peter Abernathy’s gnarled face had softened and relaxed. He looked closer to his age, and his faded blue eyes glistened with emotion. The man had loved his sister.

  “Thank you for being honest, Mr. Abernathy,” I said, taking a pause before asking, “So, if it wasn’t Carson, who would you say would be most likely to kill your sister?”

  “That’s a good question. The only person I can think of is that Masters dude. I could see him having a grudge of some sort against her. If he’d married her, he would have moved up several socioeconomic levels. Their break-up was intense, and if there was a kid involved, I could see him being extremely bitter.”

  “Well, I thought that as well, but Demario Masters was in prison at the time of Liza’s murder. Mr. Abernathy, I have an angle that you might not like, but I have a reason for thinking this is a possibility.”

  “Oh, go on. We want to know what you know,” Abigail said.

  I prepared for my theory to be rejected.

  “I think Madelyn Price may have something to do with Liza’s murder.”

  Peter leaned forward, ready to protest, but Abigail held his arm, squeezing it again. He closed his mouth and waited.

  “Why do ya think that, Mrs. Wilcox?” Abigail asked.

  “Madelyn and Liza were dating Demario Masters at the same time. It was a love triangle. Madelyn was first, and Demario is the father of her daughter. Liza gave birth to Danica around Madelyn’s child’s first birthday. Madelyn left Demario, but not before having a confrontation with Liza.”

  “A woman scorned…” Abigail muttered.

  “Yes. So, my first question is: how close were Liza and Madelyn? My second question is: why were they close if they had that type of history, and why is Madelyn tied to the place where Liza was found? She lived a block away, Liza was going to meet her when she was killed, and even though everyone has told me that they were great friends, Madelyn described Liza as a ‘student’ when I interviewed her.”

  “That doesn’t sound good for Madelyn,” Peter said.

  “Ms. Price hasn’t been forthcoming in interviews, and I’m looking for any information you have about her. I just have a feeling that she is connected to Liza’s murder in some way.”

  Abigail looked like she was contemplating whether what she had to say was relevant. After a few minutes of painful silence, she spoke.

  “Well, she is always out of town. It’s strange. Liza would go with her sometimes, but like I told you, they didn’t seem that close to me. It was strange that they would take trips together.”

  “Okay. Good. Thank you for sharing that. Anything else?”

  “She’s really strange when it comes to her kid. She doesn’t even like people to know her name. It’s like, she’s got this awesome kid stashed away at a fancy school, doing all types of great things, but she don’t talk about her. I’m a mom, and I couldn’t imagine not talking about my kids. That’s weird.”

  “Did you participate in any of the girls’ nights that Liza and Madelyn had?”

  “Well, like I said before, they weren’t really girls’ nights out. They weren’t much fun when they were together. Liza and Madelyn didn’t have anything in common and it showed when they hung out.”

  …Except Demario Masters. Why would they be friends?

  I asked if they could think of anything else, but neither of them had much to share. They told me they’d call if anything else came to mind. Not exactly an illuminating interview, but they’d reinforced some of the strange observations I’d made about Madelyn. I left the Abernathy’s and headed for the office.

  Chapter Eleven

  “She had to have been havi
ng an affair,” Martin said.

  “I’m not getting that vibe. We also don’t have any evidence to support that idea."

  After the string of new clues, the case had gone cold. Martin and I had been having the same conversation for days. As the time passed without any developments or clarity, I’d started to get discouraged. Martin had hit a wall with his research and once again we were sitting in the office, stuck.

  “Okay, how do we get out of this rut?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t know where to go with this. Liza was murdered because of something that happened decades ago, but then again, it might be because of some secret life she was living right before she died. But we have no proof that she was having an affair or doing anything else, so what the heck was she doing in Brightmoor?”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up. Nothing makes sense.”

  “Maybe we need to try something different.”

  “Like what? What did you do when you got stuck on a case when you were a police officer?”

  I thought for a moment. What did I do when I was a cop? Usually, I would run some off-the-wall theory by my partner or draw a diagram with the evidence and create a hypothesis. This time, I felt like there were too many missing links for either scenario.

  “We need more evidence.”

  “I know, Marty, but I’m not sure where to get it. I’ve talked to—” I stopped mid-sentence. Yes, I had talked to everyone I could reach, but maybe talk was cheap in this case. Maybe I needed to be watching instead of talking. I’d watched Madelyn’s place one evening over the past few weeks, but without additional evidence, the pursuit had seemed futile. But Madelyn was a patient, intelligent woman. If she had something to hide, she would be incredibly elusive.

  I grabbed my phone, computer, and notepad.

  “Where ya going?” Martin asked.

  “To watch Madelyn Price.”

  ***

  Surveillance is not always effective, but when I have a good hunch, I will subject myself to hours upon hours of wasted time in a car. When I first started watching Madelyn, she appeared to be a creature of habit. Her yoga classes ran from 8:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, 1:00 to 4:00 in the afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and 12:00 to 3:00 p.m. on Saturdays. She taught a course at the U on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, and the rest of her time was spent meeting friends for lunch or dinner. She observed Sunday as a day of rest, which included church attendance. The first Sunday, I trailed her to St. Mary’s Preparatory campus, where she attended Mass with her daughter, followed by lunch. Then, after three weeks of watching Madelyn go through the exact same routine, I gave up and decided to stop watching her.