“What about since Liza’s death? Is he the same?”
Dr. Freeman shook her head. “Sadly, he isn’t the same man…Misses his wife so much.”
I nodded and waited for more. I wasn’t sure why Dr. Freeman had called me, but it wasn’t because I’d called her, so she obviously wanted to tell me something.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. The conversation felt awkward, and I wasn’t sure how to extract the information I desired.
“Do you have any suspects?” Dr. Freeman asked.
Before I answered, I made a mental note that Dr. Freeman’s eyes were anxious and eager. Was she just a close friend of Carson’s, or was something else going on?
“Well, as you know, anyone can be a suspect.”
“But some people are likelier suspects than others.”
She didn’t have anything to tell me. Instead, she was digging for information.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Freeman. Thank you for meeting with me,” I said, standing up to indicate I was leaving. She continued to sit at the cafeteria table.
“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” she said, waiting for more.
I nodded, thanked her again, and headed for the parking garage. I wasn’t sure what to think about the interview. She was pumping me for information, but I wasn’t sure why. Carson hadn’t been on my suspect list, and I didn’t think that Dr. Freeman had contacted me at his request. Did she really think I wasn’t smart enough to remember that I hadn’t called her?
I was putting different scenarios together as I headed to my car. The click of my black pumps echoed throughout the parking garage. I was still wearing my church clothes and the eerie quiet of the evening caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. Clutching the briefcase against my leg, I slid my other hand over the butt of my gun. I got the feeling that someone was watching me. A glance around the parking lot didn’t reveal anything out of order, but there seemed to be a double echo. Click, click, click, clunk. The clunk was not from my heels. I stopped and scanned the parking garage, remaining silent and looking for any abnormalities. My eyes fell on some movement at the north end of the garage. I spotted a return gaze in the darkness for a split second, but then it disappeared. I ran toward the dark corner.
No one seemed to be there, but a slow scan of the parking stalls by the exit revealed a person dressed in black from head to toe.
“Hey!” I screamed before taking off in an awkward sprint. After stumbling a few feet, I paused and kicked off my shoes before continuing to run toward the figure.
The person turned and began to run into the darkness, and out of the garage. I didn’t think I could catch him or her, but I needed to mentally record the person’s appearance as best I could. The figure was small in stature—stood about five foot one—and was clearly female. My nearly bare feet were hurting as I pounded against the cold pavement. After a five-minute pursuit, I stopped running and allowed the shadowy figure to disappear into the night. It was now certain: someone was watching my movements. I circled back to the parking garage, located my shoes, and headed home.
***
My house is equipped with an alarm system and cameras on all sides. After I got home, I spent some time watching the cameras and loading my shotgun. Coming to my house would be a big mistake, but this person was bold. I had to be ready. Martin called at around 10:00 p.m. to see what the plan was for Monday morning.
“Marty, someone followed me today.”
“What?”
“Yes, someone followed me into the parking garage at the hospital. I chased them for a short while but couldn’t catch up.”
“I’m on my way.” Martin hung up before I could tell him that wasn’t necessary.
Was Madelyn hunting me? It seemed so far-fetched, but clearly someone was tracking me. It was late, but I decided to call her. She didn’t answer, which made me wonder if she was watching me from some secluded spot on the block. I would go by her house first thing in the morning.
Martin showed up that evening and camped out on my couch. I slept for just under six hours and got out of bed around 4:30 a.m. I started the day by reviewing paperwork and brewing coffee. After the first cup, I threw on sweats and a t-shirt and headed out for my run. The morning air was crisp and brutal, and a light mist left little crystals on my cheeks. Riverside Park was still and abandoned; the gurgle of frigid water harmonized with my footfalls. I thought about what I was going to say to Madelyn. If she was following me, she’d be expecting me this morning. That could give her time to prepare. I decided to surprise her by showing up just after dawn…Rude, but hey, it might be the only chance I had.
The red converted barn sat quiet and still. No cars were visible, and a quick check of the mailbox showed that the mail had not been collected for many days. I tapped on the front door, noticing that the “We’re Open” sign was still posted. I tried the door and pushed it open with ease. It was 6:00 a.m., but a sunrise yoga session was not unheard of.
“Ms. Price,” I called, pushing open the door. The yoga studio was empty and spotless, and Madelyn’s office was in perfect order—no sign of a struggle. Was Madelyn Price missing, or had she taken leave of her own accord? I wasn’t sure, but the howl of the wind and the isolation gave me the creeps. Even so, curiosity outweighed my sense of self-preservation, and I found myself searching the house. The house seemed to be empty. I was sure that Madelyn had been following me, but she could also be in danger.
A stack of letters was on her desk. As I got closer, I realized that they weren’t letters—they were utility bills for various houses around the state. I took a peek at the bills and realized that the addresses were different…Interesting. As a landlord, it would be wise to pass some of the cost of the utilities on to tenants, but Madelyn had not done that, which meant that she probably wasn’t a landlord, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk and found detailed files on Madelyn’s clients. Each folder had demographic information, pictures, and what appeared to be short biographies. I closed the drawer and headed to the back of the yoga studio, where a bunch of mats was piled up in front of a door.
After shoving the mats out of the way, I tried the door, which was locked. Something in the back of my mind clicked. As a civilian, I had to be careful—even if I still had a badge, there was no reason to believe that Madelyn was missing or in danger. I shouldn’t have left the residence. I left the house and headed home.
***
After the third day of not being able to get an answer at the yoga studio, or catch Madelyn while she was home, I decided that she might be missing for a reason. Of course, someone with properties around the state could always get away. Maybe she had decided to flee because we’d picked up the scent and knew she had probably killed her best friend.…Or maybe she was on a hiatus. I decided to get in touch with Carson.
“Mr. Stark, have you heard from Madelyn?”
“Not in the past few days. Why?”
“I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. I have some questions, but it seems like she has gone out of town.”
“Oh yeah, she’s probably out of town—not a big deal. I bet she’ll be back in the next few days. Any new info?”
I considered telling Carson about the leads we’d been chasing, but realized that we weren’t any closer to finding out who killed Liza than we had been on the day we took the case.
“I will update you at the end of the week.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I thought about what the update for Carson might sound like. Mr. Stark, I have discovered that your wife’s best friend was probably involved in her murder, but I really don’t have any concrete evidence…Oh, and your wife has a child that she abandoned, and who might be her killer. So, basically, I don’t have anything concrete to share, but the hypotheticals are highly disturbing. Thanks! Defeat was sinking into my soul when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This is Alyssa Masters. I�
�m returning a call from Sylvia Wilcox.”
I held my breath for a minute. Finally! A call back from Demario’s sister who lived in Brightmoor.
“Thank you for calling me back, Ms. Masters. I’m investigating a crime and—”
“My brother is in jail, but he probably did it before he got locked up.” Her voice was sorrowful.
“Actually, I would like to talk with you about some people that your brother knows. May I stop by?”
“I guess so.”
She gave me her address, which matched one of the numerous listings I’d found online. Alyssa Currently, Masters lived on Rockdale, two streets away from where Liza’s body had been found. The vinyl-sided house was in a state of disrepair, but it looked much better than many of the other neighboring houses. I parked on the street, checked my surroundings, and headed for the front door. When I knocked, Demario’s sister was in the middle of cooking. She pulled the door open and nodded for me to come in. Without saying a word, she moved back into the kitchen. I stood by a small hutch just inside the door, holding my breath, trying to avoid the billowing smoke from the stove. Alyssa was frying a huge mound of bacon, and children were everywhere. I couldn’t help but wonder how many kids she had.
“Have to make these kids dinner…You can come in here.” She spoke without turning to see if I was following her.
A boy who was probably fifteen or sixteen was sitting on a beanbag with earbuds attached to a cell phone. A younger boy of five or six was playing with Legos on the dirty beige carpet. A little girl, who couldn’t have been more than two, was standing by the front window playing with the frayed yellow curtains. A voice erupted from the bedroom just before a tiny young woman stormed out, booming with anger. I caught a glimpse of her burning green eyes as she tossed stuffed animals out of her way. An explosive, child-verging-on-woman sporting a red bandana and a long ponytail, she was clearly startled by my presence. I recognized her as one of the thugs I’d seen at Ali Mansu’s party store. Alyssa Masters met the girl’s gaze and the young woman calmed down.
“Roe, I’m takin’ care of business,” Alyssa said, as she lined a plate with paper towels.
“Sorry, Momma,” the girl said, before heading back into the bedroom.
The house was extremely modest, but its cleanliness made it look nice. The wood paneling was old, but clean and intact. Dull, faded brown tile ran throughout the kitchen and there was a small makeshift bathroom in the back corner of the house. From what I could see, the house only had one bedroom. Where did all the children sleep?
“Thank you for taking the time to talk with me,” I said.
“Yep. What you want to know?”
“So, tell me about Demario, Liza Abernathy, and Madelyn Price.”
Demario’s sister was barely five feet tall and she had sad brown eyes, and an almond-shaped face. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed to the middle of her back, and she was dressed in scrubs.
“I’m working on becoming a nurse. It’s tough with all the kids, but we’re doing okay.”
“Congratulations. Are all the kids yours?”
She looked at me.
“Yes. All seven.”
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said a second time, hoping to move the interview forward. I held out my hand. Alyssa stuck her hand in mine and gave it a limp shake.
“You’re welcome. Thought about saying no, but Liza was a decent girl. Not smart, but she meant well. I’m sad to hear that she was murdered.”
I hadn’t expected that reaction.
“Yes, it is sad indeed. So, what can you tell me about Liza?”
“Well, in the beginning, she was a sweet kid that my brother brought home one day. We were surprised, because Demario never liked school. He was too old to be there anyway, so we knew he was up to no good. His plan was to meet some woman who would take care of him. He was always lazy; always looking for a free ride. I don’t think Liza’s family was rich, but they had money.”
“Liza was murdered not too far from here.”
“Yeah. I remember hearing ’bout that. Didn’t recognize the name at first.”
“She was shot here in Brightmoor. Do you find that curious?”
“Yep. She musta found another one like my brother. Liza was nice, but not smart. My brother is sick, but he always really got into the girls he dated. Liza started playing a game with him after a while, but I don’t think she could help it. A rich white girl wasn’t going to be with him…She was always going to run back to her parents. Everybody knew it.”
“Do you know if your brother kept in contact with Liza after they broke up?”
“I don’t think so, but he did a lot of things I never knew about.”
“You knew about Liza’s death, but Demario didn’t.”
“We aren’t close. Couldn’t stay in touch with him because of the kids.”
“Demario couldn’t be around children?”
“Yeah. And I know you know why,” she said, an edge in her voice.
“What else can you tell me about your brother?”
“Demario has always been unmotivated and disturbed. He never held a job longer than a few weeks. No woman, especially one who likes money, was going to stay with him—that’s just common sense. Liza left the kid with him, so he was satisfied. Didn’t really care that she was gone.”
Alyssa Masters distributed bacon onto the paper towels.
“Kids! It’s ready!” she yelled. Recognizing that Alyssa wasn’t open to discussing the reason Demario couldn’t be around the children, I asked a different question.
“Why did Demario have trouble holding down a job?”
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “My mother treated him like a golden calf. She worshipped that boy. Anything that he wanted was his. We all knew that was going to lead to trouble, but she just kept on babying him.”
“What did your father think of this?”
“He was too busy with his other women to worry about us, or the way Momma was bringing us up. My father was in and out of the house, and it was understood that he was cheating on Momma. She seemed to accept it as a way of life. I never once heard her complain about all the women in his life. By the time I was sixteen, we’d met my dad’s full-time mistress. Momma accepted his behavior. It was a terrible example to set for us., My brother and sisters, have fallen into similar patterns.”
“So, Demario hasn’t been a part of your life for a decade?”
“Correct. He has a daughter who I think he molested. I reported my suspicions to social services. Eventually, I gained custody of Danica, but she was a handful. I have five children of my own, so when Demario wanted her back, I let her go. Seven years ago, Demario and his daughter were living with my brother. Demario had a girlfriend who also had a child, and out of the three adults, she was the only one bringing in any money. At that point, the household had deteriorated into a full-fledged, welfare fraud haven. I wanted nothing to do with it, so I cut ties and moved on with my life.”
“How many siblings do you have?”
“Started out with five of us, but we’re down to three and a half at this point. My other brother, Raymond, will be dead soon.”
It was a sad, but common Detroit story.
“Do you think Demario would hold a grudge against Liza?”
“I think Demario would use any excuse to kill anyone, but I don’t see how he would have a grudge against Liza. He always told her that the only way he would kill her was if she took their child. I’m sure that is why she made the difficult decision to leave the child when she left him. She wasn’t being callous. She just knew it was the only way Demario would let her live.”
“Demario was fine with the break-up because he got what he wanted?”
“Yep—he is all about control. If he can control the situation and hurt the person he is dealing with, he’s happy. Liza made the ultimate sacrifice, and I’m sure he was extremely pleased.”
“What can you tell me about their daughter?”
&nb
sp; “Danica? Such a shame. A pretty little thing, but she never had a chance. She was born into a family that had no hope of ever being normal. My parents made sure that we were good and screwed up, and we passed that on to our children. That little girl experienced hunger, abuse, and neglect during her young life. I’m not sure what type of young woman she has grown into, but I’m sure she’s struggling. I’ve looked for her from time to time, but I don’t know what the past seven years have been like. Before that, I know that she was always frowning. Her eyes were blank and dull.”
“How old would she be now?”
“About fifteen.”
“And you don’t have any way of getting in contact with her?”
“Not really. My kids tell me that they see her around the neighborhood, but I haven’t come across her. You might want to check the new shelter they built on Grand River and Lasher. I’ve heard that she spends a lot of time there.”
“Ms. Masters, what can you tell me about Madelyn Price?”
Alyssa’s eyes narrowed.
“Poor Maddie…Of all the girls my brother could have screwed over, she was the worst choice.”
“Why is that?”
“She was a sweet, brilliant girl who had everything going for her. He pulled her into his world and almost messed things up for her, but Maddie was smart: she got away from him.”
“Were Maddie and Liza acquainted?”
“My brother was seeing both of them. My oldest sister told Madelyn, and she confronted Liza. The two had a fight, but Maddie was done. She moved away, taking my niece with her. I don’t hold it against her. She made the right choice.”
“Do you ever hear from Madelyn’s daughter?”
“Nope. Never.”
“Did Liza ever attempt to contact Danica?”
“She didn’t want her. She was…well, she was black, and Liza’s parents weren’t too keen on that. It was easier for Liza to just leave her behind.”
“Did Danica remember Liza?”
“No. The last time she saw her was during the custody hearing. She was only about three, so I doubt that she’d remember that. Liza didn’t ever try to contact her after that.”
Who She Was Page 19
