by Jim Riley
Donna turned and realized why the cleaning lady panicked. Earl Washington, the stockbroker, was still secured to his chair, his face frozen in fear. Two bullet holes in his chest were highlighted in crimson red. His unseeing eyes stared back.
Donna knew in that instant that she was holding the murder weapon in her hands. The Hispanic cleaning lady saw her pointing it at Washington when the lights came on. The young detective was now a murder suspect.
16
Central
“Flavia, thank you for talking to me. I know how difficult this must be for you,” Niki started.
“I can’t believe that,” Flavia Foster responded. “Have you ever been raped by someone you trusted?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then don’t tell me you know how I feel. Unless you've been there, you have no clue.”
Flavia pulled the blanket tighter around her as though it could insulate the teen from an evil world.
“You’re right. I don’t know exactly how you feel. Your dad said you were willing to answer questions for me.”
The teenager’s eyes grew hard. “I didn’t do anything wrong except trust that bastard. He is the one to blame.”
“You’re talking about Coach Bailey?”
“Who else would I be talking about?”
“I want to make sure I don’t misinterpret anything you say. I need you to know I am seeking the truth, even if that means Coach Bailey is guilty. Understand?”
Flavia wrapped the blanket tighter. “Then you already know he is. Why are you here?”
Niki shrugged.
“I know there is a lot of evidence pointing in that direction. Tell me how it started.”
Flavia buried her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It hurts too much.”
Niki ignored her plea.
“How did you happen to go in the film room the first time? Did Coach Bailey ask you to come?”
Tears welled in the cheerleader’s eyes. Her lips trembled.
“I was looking for Steve. Steve King. He’s my boyfriend.”
Niki pulled out a pad to take notes.
“Why did you go to the film room to find him?” Niki asked.
“Because he watched them there with the coaches after practice sometimes. He was supposed to meet me at the front of the gym, but he was late. I found out later he was talking to the trainer about getting his helmet adjusted.”
Niki watched the young girl, but Flavia did not look up. The blanket almost covered the teenager’s mouth.
“Was Coach Bailey in the film room?”
Flavia nodded, but said nothing.
“Was he alone?”
Another nod.
“Did you go inside?”
Another nod.
“What happened after you went inside?”
The blanket dropped an inch or two.
"He told me to come on in. He held a chair for me right next to him."
"So you sat in the chair next to the coach?"
"Yes, Ma'am. He was the coach. I had to do what he told me."
"What happened next?" Niki asked.
"He asked me if I wanted to watch some plays that Steve did in practice. I told him I was supposed to meet Steve in front of the gym."
"Did he accept this?"
"Yes, Ma'am. But then he said something funny. Not ha ha funny, but weird sort of funny."
"What did he say?"
"He said that I could help Steve get the starting job back. I asked him how. He said that I would have to come back to find out. He said that I would have to come alone."
"Did you agree to come back?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I’d do anything to help Steve. I love him so much." Flavia paused. "Wait. That didn't come out right. There are some things I won’t do even for Steve. You know what I mean?"
Niki nodded. "So you left the film room and nothing happened that day?"
"I could feel the coach staring at me when I left. I don't know how to describe it, but sometimes I know when a guy is watching."
Niki smiled. "I know. I get the same feeling at times, and most of the time, I'm right."
Flavia gave her a brief smile, relieved that the detective was agreeing with her feelings.
"When did you go back?"
"Two days later," Flavia answered.
"I told Steve I had to meet our cheerleading coach to work out some steps in a new routine. Then I went to the film room."
"Who was in the film room?"
"Coach Bailey and Coach Delrie. As soon as I went in, Coach Bailey told Coach Ricky they were through for the day, and he could go home. Coach Ricky almost ran out of the room."
"So that left you and Coach Bailey alone. Is that correct?"
"He motioned for me to sit in the same chair as before. I did. Then I asked him how I could help Steve get the starting job back on the football team."
"Did he answer you?"
Flavia shook her head. "Not at first. He told me Steve's future was entirely in my hands. He, meaning Steve, could be the starting quarterback on a playoff team or he could be a backup for the rest of his high school career."
"What happened then?"
"I cried. I don't know why, but I cried and couldn't stop."
Niki tried to imagine the young teenager sitting in the chair knowing what was coming, but blocking it out of her mind. That would cause any girl to weep.
"And?" Niki prided, although she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story.
"He wiped my tears away with a cloth. He was so gentle I thought I might be wrong about his intentions."
Niki knew what was coming next. "But you weren't."
"No, Ma'am. While he was wiping my tears away, he brushed my chin and then dabbed at my sweater."
"I get the picture. What did you do?"
"Nothing at first," Flavia responded. The blanket rose back to her mouth. The words became harder to hear. "I just froze. I mean, I have been in cars with guys trying to feel me up, but never with an adult. A coach."
"What did he do then?"
"He set the towel aside and repeated what he did with his bare hand. But when he dabbed at my sweater, his hand stopped. He squeezed. Then he squeezed harder. Then he grabbed the other one and squeezed it."
Flavia could not hold back the tears. They cascaded down her cheeks, dropping on the blanket. Niki took a tissue from her bag and handed it to the teen. When Flavia reached for it, the blanket opened. Niki saw that the teen still wore her practice uniform.
Niki waited for Flavia to dry her tears and allowed her to continue at her own pace.
The teen's voice was soft. "I guess he took my inaction for approval. I was scared to death, Miss Niki. I hope you believe me."
Niki nodded. "Any lady in that position would be scared. You did nothing wrong."
Flavia shook her head. "That's not true. I should have fought back. I should have scratched his eyes out. But I just sat there."
"Is that when he had sex with you?"
She shook her head. "Not at first. He bit my breast through my sweater. He bit so hard that I screamed. I thought that would stop him, but it did just the opposite. He became an animal."
"Did he leave a mark?"
"Not through my sweater. But later, when I had my clothes almost off, he bit me again. It hurt. Really bad. I slapped him, finally coming to my senses. I bloodied his lips bad. Some of it got on my uniform."
"So that's why both his blood and your blood are on your sweater?"
"Yes, Ma'am. After that, it was a blur. I couldn't believe what was happening, but he was way too strong. He did what he wanted."
Niki began to have doubts about her own feelings. Everything this girl said corroborated the evidence in every way. It was beginning to look like she was wrong to defend Billy Bailey.
"What happened after that?"
“The pig watched me put my clothes back on. He was, I don't know, still ogling at me and smiling, but not in a good way.”
"Did he
allow you to leave?"
"He did, but he told me that if I breathed a word of it to anyone, then Steve would never play a down, and he would kick my brother off the team."
"Then?" Niki could tell there was more.
"I told him to go to hell. That I planned to tell my dad what he did, and that my dad would kill him."
"How did he react?" Niki asked.
Flavia hesitated for a long minute before answering. She pulled the blanket as tight as she could around her.
"I didn't tell the police this part. I didn't want for it to get out. Will you keep it a secret?"
Niki was caught. If she agreed, then she would not be able to use the information in the defense of her client. On the other hand, if she did not agree, then she would never know what the teenager had withheld from the police. She opted to get the information.
"I agree," she said with some hesitance.
"You can't tell Dad either."
Niki nodded.
"Coach Bailey said he would tell everyone about my relationship with LaDonne if I told anyone and if I didn't cooperate."
Niki stopped writing.
"By cooperate, did he mean to have sex with him again?"
Flavia's knuckles turned snow white because she gripped the pillows so hard.
"More than once. It became a usual thing. When he wanted me, he would stop during practice and say hello, girls. That was a signal for me to meet him."
"How often did it happen?"
"I don't know. I just closed my eyes and tried to get through it. Maybe six or seven times."
"And LaDonne? What do you know about the relationship between Coach Bailey and LaDonne?"
A single tear rolled down Flavia's cheek.
"Coach said I was getting boring. Not much fun anymore. He told me to get LaDonne to join us. He said that would spice things up."
"Did you talk to LaDonne?"
"Yes, Ma'am. But I told her not to do it. I told her he wouldn't dare expose our relationship as long as he was doing it to me. She agreed."
"What did Coach Bailey say?" Niki asked.
"He said to give her time, and something would happen to change her mind."
"What? What would change her mind?"
Flavia sat quietly for a long time before answering. Her head dropped to the blanket.
"I don't know. He never told me."
For the first time, Niki recognized clear deception on the teenager's face. She wanted to press the issue further, but wasn't sure that particular information was vital to her case. Instead, she changed the subject to the photographs.
"There is a picture of you after the game last Friday night showing Coach Bailey groping your breast. How did that happen?"
Flavia seemed baffled. "I haven't seen it. The lady, the attorney, said someone sent it to her, but didn't say who they were. But they were all jumping around and hugging each other. Then someone grabbed me from the back and squeezed my boob. I thought it was Steve. He does stupid stuff like that. But when I turned around, I saw it was Coach Bailey."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, Ma'am. Just smiled. I tore away from him and ran toward Steve. I cried. When he asked me why, I told him I was happy we won."
"So Steve never knew about your relationship with Coach Bailey?"
Flavia's eyes widened. "Are you kidding? If he had, he would've killed the coach if his dad didn't do it first. They both hated Coach Bailey."
"Okay, just a couple of more questions."
The relief became obvious when the teen's shoulders sagged.
"Good. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"Who else knows you are pregnant?"
Stone silence. The cheerleader seemed to have quit breathing. Her blank eyes stared at the investigator.
"Flavia, who else did you tell?" Niki persisted.
"How—How did you know?"
"It's going around the rumor mill at the school. I wasn't sure it was true until now. After your reaction, I'm positive it's true."
Flavia emitted a loud well. It was so loud that her father opened the door.
"Are you okay, Honey?"
Flavia jumped off the sofa and raced through the open door. Donald Foster glared at Niki.
"What did you say to her?" He demanded.
"Only what I needed to ask to get to the truth. The questions may be a lot harder for Flavia at the trial."
Foster slammed the door shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room. He took a menacing step toward Niki.
"If I ever see you anywhere near my daughter again, I will break you in half with my bare hands." His hot breath blew in the detective's face.
Niki did not back down. "I don't break that easily, Mr. Foster. You won't be the first man to find out if you try."
Foster tensed to throw a blow. Niki prepared to dodge the haymaker from the burly man's right hand and calculated how she would counter punch.
"Don't, Dad. It wasn't her fault."
Flavia stood in the door which was now partially ajar.
"She made you cry, Honey," Foster addressed his daughter.
"She isn't the reason. This is all Coach Bailey's fault. Not hers."
Foster turned to Niki. "Get out, and I meant what I said. Stay away from my daughter."
Niki walked out to the Ford Explorer. When she got in on the driver’s side, she did not immediately leave. Instead, the detective reviewed the entire interview with Flavia in her mind. Every piece of the picture seemed to fit perfectly in place. Every bit of evidence supported every word the teenager said. There were no loose ends. The case was open and shut. But—
17
Baton Rouge
Drexel Robinson walked back to the parking garage. Slocum's vehicle was still parked in the same slot as before. Robinson checked the engine hood, and it was cool to the touch. The car had not been driven since Slocum left it.
That meant Robinson was still in the hotel somewhere. But he had checked the lobby, the gift shop, and the bar. Slocum would have to have been extremely fortunate to get to the elevator bank, grab one, and get to someone else's room before the senior detective caught up with him.
Then it hit him. The restaurant. Slocum must be meeting someone in the dining room. There were so many eating establishments in Baton Rouge that the hotel restaurant was often overlooked by the locals. But the dining area itself was spread in an oblong pattern almost an entire floor.
Drexel had eaten there several times with clients in a hurry. The food would have been considered outstanding in most cities. In Baton Rouge, it was considered to be good.
Robinson approached the hostess with a smile and a twenty-dollar bill in his palm. After a brief handshake, he asked about Slocum.
"I don't remember sitting anyone of that description alone," she said.
"How about with the companion? Maybe he was with a lady friend."
"A couple of guys come close to that, but I don't believe either is him."
"Do you mind if I look?" Wendy asked
The hostess did not nod or shake her head. She said nothing until Drexel pulled out another twenty. The hostess pointed at a table about a third of the way through the room.
"One of them is at that table down there. The other is seated with a young lady three more tables down."
Drexel sighed. He wasn't sure how he would show that forty dollars on his expense account. He had not reached the table before ruling out the man seated there. Two old. Too fat.
Drexel continued to the other table. As he neared, his heart beat a little faster. The man faced away from him, but Drexel thought he had found Sleazy Slocum. Same age, same build,
He strode boldly up to the table. Then he smiled to the attractive brunette sitting facing him.
"Hello, I am Pierce Randolph, Madame. May I say that dress goes well with that diamond necklace? Purely exquisite."
"Thank you, Mr. Randolph."
"Hey, but," the man grunted. "Leave my girl alone."
Dr
exel turned and froze. He was not looking at Sleazy Slocum, but at someone of similar age and body.
"Sorry, my good man. But your daughter reminded me of the stars in heaven, created by our Maker to add sparkling beauty to a dark night."
"She ain't my daughter, Bud."
Drexel turned and walked away, winking at the hostess on his way out.
18
Sherwood Forest
Donna Cross heard the front door slam. Her instincts were split. Flight or fight. She knew she could escape before the cops got to her. The junior detective also knew the cleaning lady had a clear view of her holding the gun pointed at the dead stockbroker. There was also the distinct possibility Washington had made a notation in the log of his computer or in an appointment book about their scheduled meeting. Then there was the problem with her car parked in the lot. She decided to stay and tell her limited side of the story.
Donna sat on the floor next to the door, wondering about the depth of the pit into which she had fallen. She wished that either Niki or Drexel Robinson was there to help her. She picked herself from the bag just as the sirens came into hearing.
"Niki, thank God. I need help," she yelled.
"Where are you?" Her partner asked.
"At Washington's place, off of Sherwood."
Donna hurriedly gave Niki the address.
"What happened?"
"I shot Mr. Washington. I mean—"
Her sentence was interrupted by the first policeman through the door.
"Drop the phone. Drop the gun. Get your hands in the air," the cop screamed so loud that it shocked Donna into hitting the end call button before she finished the sentence.
Instead, the junior investigator dropped both the phone and the gun on the carpeted floor.
"I didn't—"
This time, her sentence was interrupted by the cop’s body slamming into hers. Knocking her flat on her stomach. The two hundred forty pounds in uniform forced a knee between her shoulder blades, depressing her petite rib cage as Donna struggled to capture a breath of oxygen with each ragged gasp.
The policeman grabbed her right arm and twisted it behind her back at a sharp angle. The pain caused the young lady to cry out. The cop did the same with her left arm. Only when both hands were securely fastened in the steel handcuffs did he relieve the pressure of his enormous knee.
