Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Because I’m here on my own time, not in my official capacity.”

  “Uh huh. Why you really here?”

  “I believe Ms. Gonzales is afraid to come back to work because she might have seen something. Something she doesn’t want others to know she witnessed. I wasn’t lying when I said she hasn’t been to work in two weeks. I just spoke with her boss less than an hour ago.”

  He watched the mask of tough street urchin drop for a few seconds. Although he had never lived the kind of life Jalel had, he had watched the interaction between the impoverished neighbors. Most of the time, they stuck together. Even the ones who didn’t join the banger lifestyle were still watched over because somewhere down the line, they were related to one another. Poverty bred more poverty, and once in the cycle, it was near impossible to break out. Since Jalel’s house was less than a block away, Craig assumed that Jalel knew Ms. Gonzales, and his assumption was verified by the look of sadness on Jalel’s face.

  “For real? You ain’t here to hassle?”

  “Jalel, I need to talk to her. I just want to ask her if she saw something that might be of help to me. I am working a case—”

  “Yeah, I know which one you’s workin’, too. That rich bitch that got snuffed at the hotel. It’s where Ms. Gonzales worked at. That don’t make sense to me, though. Your guy—he’s already been iced for that. What good will it do to talk to anyone else?”

  “Because the man I arrested didn’t do it. Now I’m trying to find out who did. And Ms. Gonzales is my last hope to finding out who killed that girl and framed someone else.”

  “You mean she’s your last hope to ease your soul, right?”

  “Look Jalel. I’m no different than anyone else. I’m human. I make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes are as simple as putting diesel in my tank rather than gas when I’m in a hurry. Other times, the mistakes are huge and innocent people get hurt. And if I’ve learned anything in my forty-plus years on this earth, it’s that it takes a real man to admit his faults and make things right. It’s much easier to pretend they don’t exist, but only in the beginning. Eventually, your faults invade your dreams and make your life a living hell.”

  He watched Jalel sort through what he’d said. He knew he was taking a gamble by revealing all his cards, but he was following his gut. He sensed that Jalel knew where Ms. Gonzales was, or at least how to get in touch with her. He also hoped that his little impromptu speech would sink in through the hard living Jalel had experienced during the past year. Maybe give him hope that he could change his circumstances before he became yet another sad statistic.

  “Tell you what. Give me your digits and if Ms. Gonzales wants to talk to you, I’ll hook the two of you up. Cool?”

  Craig smiled at the face of the man-child next to him. “Cool.”

  Jalel nodded, took the phone number, and slipped out of the Jeep without another word. He eased his way through the tight streets of Little Rock’s rendition of the ghetto, hoping that his next stop proved to be more informative and less intense.

  But somehow, he knew his surprise visit to Bill Witham’s house would be anything but simple.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - TUESDAY EVENING

  I clicked my phone shut and set it back in my lap, then closed my eyes before the first burst of hairspray shot out. “Well, everything is all set. Erin Corpian will be here tomorrow afternoon for an interview, and so will Roger and Bertrand. Please, please tell me you will be here? I don’t want to ask my mother but I think I’m going to need a friendly face to look at,” I pleaded.

  “Like I would miss it! Now, you just quit worrying about tomorrow. You have a whole bunch of supporters behind you, plus you have me. This is the right step, I just know it. Someone is going to see the report and realize they have information that might be useful. And even if that doesn’t happen, the police will be under so much pressure from us that they will have no choice but to reopen the case. Now, hold still while I finish your hair! This one spot back here isn’t playing right. The color looks fantastic though. All your grays are gone! Forgive me for preening you like a pageant contestant, but there was no way I was going to let you be on camera with dull hair.” Regina’s sweet laughter and gentle brush strokes reminded me of the way my mother used to work through the knots in the back when I was too young to do it myself.

  “I’m hoping that’s why Detective Knowles called, too. Not my hair, I mean reopening the case,” I clarified. “He was sort of vague on the phone earlier, but did insist upon meeting in person.”

  “Hey, maybe he’s been thinking about the evidence you showed him. Or someone pointed him to the Justice for Jack site. I can’t imagine that he would contact you for any other reason other than admitting you were right. What time is he coming again?” Regina asked as she handed me the small makeup mirror. She spun my chair around so I could see her masterpiece.

  I admired my reflection for my best friend’s sake. “He wanted to come tonight, but we already had plans with Mom. I told him to stop by tomorrow morning around nine.”

  “Oh goodie. He’s a cutie. Morning coffee with a hunk who carries a gun and handcuffs,” Regina teased. “Good way to start the day.”

  “Regina!” I couldn’t hold in my own laughter. The woman always said whatever was on her mind, even more so when it came to men.

  “I’m just playing, girl. I like making you smile.”

  “You are so sweet. Okay, listen, thanks for everything. I…I couldn’t have come this far without you.” I smiled, then stood up and hugged her neck.

  “Oh, don’t go getting all emotional, or I’ll have to retouch my makeup! Besides, aren’t we going to be late for dinner with your mom?” Regina asked, shooing me out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

  “No, we still have…oh gosh! Why didn’t you tell me it was eight o’clock? We should already be there. You know how I hate being late!” I cried, hopping around on one foot as I tried to get my shoes on.

  “I think I did just tell you. Come on, I’ll drive. You’re kinda scatterbrained.”

  “I’ve got to let Simba out first.”

  Regina put her hand on my arm. “Honey, you just let her in less than ten minutes ago. She’s fine. Come on, you need to get out of this house and go hug your momma. Now, before the rest of your brain cells evaporate.”

  “Well, I’d say I’m losing it but apparently, I’m way beyond that. It’s gone. No brain cells left to evaporate.”

  “That’s why you have me. I do still have a few. Another reason why you keep me around. Well that, and this,” Regina said, holding up the umbrella in her hands, “since it’s supposed to storm tonight. It hasn’t even been three hours since I washed your grays away. Someone has to keep your hair safe from the coming downpour, right?”

  I stopped in the middle of walking down the stairs and looked at my outfit.

  “What are you doing?” Regina asked.

  “Making sure I’m fully clothed and that I have my purse and keys. At the rate I’m going, I’m bound to leave the house in my bra and panties.”

  “Now that I might let you do. It would be rather hysterical.”

  The heavy summer air slapped us in the face as we walked out to Regina’s car. Gun metal gray clouds spun over our heads, the smell of rain thick in the air. At least the sky hadn’t turned the sickening shade of green that signaled the likelihood of a wicked tornado.

  Regina was backing out of the driveway when I remembered I hadn’t checked my mailbox in days. “Oh, hey, would you stop and let me check the mail? I forgot.”

  “You best hurry before the bottom drops out.”

  I jumped out, trotted over to the mailbox and retrieved the stack of mail. I hurried back inside the car and thumbed through the pile. Bills, bills, more bills. A few straggler sympathy cards from distant relatives and old friends were there, but not the one letter I was looking for from Jack’s employer. Regina heard my disgusted sigh.

  “Nothing?”
<
br />   “Nope. Not a thing. I mean, I don’t have to have a letter. Why can’t they just call me? Send me an email? Something to let me know they received the forms and are at least working on it. I don’t know how much longer I can hold the creditors at bay.”

  “Have you called them?”

  I dropped the mail in my purse and fumbled with my seat belt. “Three times. Their system seems to be set up in such a way that you just end up punching buttons and going in circles, never getting to the point of actually speaking with a human being. It’s ridiculous. I need to know something soon. Funds are running out fast.”

  Regina reached over and patted my hand. “Doll, you don’t need to worry about that, remember? I have already started mentally planning out your move. Whenever you are ready, mi casa es su casa.”

  “I still plan on moving in regardless of whether Jack’s life insurance pays out. Even if, as Bertrand and Roger are sure is going to happen, a settlement from the County lands in my lap. It would have to be close to a million for me to be able to keep the house and live without having to eat only ramen noodles the rest of my life. Besides, I—”

  “Honey, if the real reason for your move is to run from the memories of Jack around every corner, then don’t do it. You’d have to leave the state and move to some gawd-awful place you two never visited. And you both pretty much hit all the states except a few stragglers back east. You could move to the middle-of-nowhere-Alaska and Jack’s memories would still be in your mind. Move because you want to, not because you think you need to. And if the thought of moving in with your crazy best friend makes you cringe, the other option is to let me—”

  “Oh no,” I interrupted. “I already told you I am not going to take any money from you. Though I appreciate the love and sentiment behind the gesture, I just can’t. My reason for leaving is a healthy combination of both, I guess. True, eventually I will be able to get past the pain and be able to walk into a room without falling to pieces. Maybe even sleep in our bed. But it’s just too big, too much for me to handle financially and physically. The cleaning, the yard, the upkeep—it was hard when we both did it together, and it will be impossible for me to do alone.”

  Regina smiled but I could tell she wasn’t buying my story. The words were an obvious lie and we both knew it. The truth was, I couldn’t wait to escape the walls and never look back. That part of my life was over—gone. If I stayed, confronted on a daily basis of what once was and now never would be again, I would never heal. Every inch of the house would be a reminder of our life together. The ache in my heart would never mend, even to a level of being able to function like a normal person again.

  I knew the loss of my Jack would never quite go away. My mother had moved when Dad died into a smaller place for the exact same reasons. I remembered helping her move. It had been hard on us both. Since she had bought a smaller home, we had to go through tons of stuff and make hard decisions on what to keep and what to give to Goodwill. Years and years of memories had to be sorted through. In the end, Mom opted to donate the majority of her furniture, claiming to want a more modern look. I knew that was a load of hogwash. She didn’t want the constant reminders of Dad. At the time, I struggled with my own irritation at her decision to rid herself of a lifetime of memories.

  Now, I understood why she made the painful choice. Surrounding herself with objects that reminded her of what her life had been would be too painful.

  Even when Mom spoke of Dad nowadays, her face would remain stoic, but her words and voice betrayed her pain. I knew she missed him terribly. How could she not? Their thirty-five-year union had made them twain, one flesh. No two people ever loved each other more, at least not in my opinion.

  I didn’t wish to talk about the subject anymore, so I changed the conversation to the weather and how crazy the abrupt changes in the seasons had been. “Remember last Christmas when we had all that snow?”

  “Do I! The entire state shut down for over a week. Oh, and remember how beautiful the lights looked against the snow at the Garden in Hot Springs? We left just in time before the roads became a sheet of ice! Ugh, I couldn’t count the times I trudged out to my car just to charge my phone. At least last year it was snow rather than all that ice. How long ago was it we got all the ice? Like ten years?”

  “Eleven, I think. It was beautiful for sure, like living inside a snow globe. Too bad the beauty was marred by the freezing cold and the fact that if you tried to get out and enjoy the beauty, you ended up on your butt. Or in a ditch. I felt so sorry for people who didn’t have a generator or a fireplace. But last year, it was like Snowmageddon. At least we could go out and play in the snow without slipping and busting our butts on the ice. I hope we don’t see either of those kinds of winter again for a hundred years. That is, after all, why we live in the south, right? Mild winters. It surely isn’t for the summers.”

  “No kidding. Oh, and this spring, all those parts of the state that got all that rain? It’s mid-summer, everything is supposed to be ugly brown by now. All this water has made for lovely green foliage, but it was so sad to watch the news reports from the flooding. And I can’t remember a summer when we’ve had so many thunderstorms. Thank goodness we haven’t had any tornadoes. I hope we make it to your mom’s before the downpour hits. Looks like those clouds are full of lots of water.”

  Sure enough, before she pulled into the carport at my mom’s, lightening skittered across the darkened sky, followed by a crack of thunder that made Regina’s car vibrate. In the blink of an eye, rain began pouring from the sky. The storm was coming in fast and expected to drop over two inches of rain during the night, with warnings that wind gusts of sixty miles an hour were possible. I knew I wouldn’t have to do too much convincing to have mom come back and stay with me and Regina tonight. I couldn’t wait to share the Justice for Jack site. She would be just as stunned as I still was when she realized how many people supported him.

  Regina shut the car off and reached behind her seat, producing another umbrella. We bailed at the same time from the car, our feet splashing through the water that had already pooled in Mom’s driveway. We shook off the water from the umbrellas and burst through the carport door into the kitchen.

  “I am so glad that your mom’s famous spaghetti is on the menu for tonight! That marinara that she makes is magical, and just what we need to forget about the storm. And the pasta will help put some more weight back on you. You realize you look sort of like a scarecrow, right?”

  “Well, it isn’t going to be very good if Mom overcooks it!” I said, noticing the pots on the stove were overflowing. The water had boiled over and the red marinara sauce seeped out from under the lid, covering the counter top and splashing the vent.

  I moved to turn everything off. “Mom? We’re here. Are you still in the shower?” I called out inside the quiet house.

  No answer.

  “Mom? Mom, are you okay?” I shouted as I walked into the living room, then down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “Okay Mom, I’m officially freaking out here. Where are you?”

  I checked all the rooms as I passed them, leaving Mom’s for the last. The door to her bedroom was ajar so I walked in, hoping I wouldn’t find her dressing. The last time I walked in on her changing clothes, I got an earful about manners and etiquette. I scolded myself for worrying. She probably just had her hearing aid out while she was in the shower and didn’t hear us. The light from her bathroom peeked from under the closed door. I thought my heart was going to explode from relief when I heard the water from the shower.

  Thank God! Get a hold of yourself girl!

  I knocked on the door. “Hey Mom, Regina and I are here. We’ll finish up dinner, so just come on out when you’re ready, okay? Oh, and the storm is getting pretty nasty, so how about we just pack it up and take it back to my house and eat?”

  No answer.

  I knocked again, this time harder. “Mom?”

  I tried the door handle but it wouldn’t move. I leane
d over and turned on the lamp on her dressing table so I could see. Stepping back over to the door, I saw water streaming out from underneath it.

  “Mom!” I screamed. I backed up a few steps and threw my body into the door. “Regina! Hurry! Call 9-1-1!”

  The door didn’t budge so I backed up and slammed into it again. I heard the wood crack but it still held. As tears ran down my eyes, I screamed, “Jesus, help me!”

  The last impact splintered the door frame and I burst through the doorway. My heart froze when I saw her lying on the floor in her bathrobe. In a second I was next to her, searching for a pulse. “Mom? Can you hear me? Mom?”

  Sobs erupted out of me when her eyes fluttered open. I could hear Regina in the background on the phone and prayed help was coming.

  “Going to get my wings,” Mom whispered, and closed her eyes as her chest quit moving.

  “No!” I screamed. “Fight! I can’t lose you! Fight, Mom!”

  As I performed frantic compressions on my mother’s frail chest, I became aware that Regina was doing her breathing. Time stood still for me as we worked in tandem on keeping my mother’s blood and oxygen flowing through her.

  When the paramedics arrived, Regina dragged me away with promises that I could ride with Mom to the hospital. We watched from the bedroom as they assessed my mother, hooked an I.V. up and then loaded her into the ambulance. I climbed in last and held her cold hand as the sirens screamed through the streets of Little Rock to the hospital.

  “Come, unto me. I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Hear me and be blessed.”

  The voice croaking out the ancient hymn was full of sorrow, the notes off-key and the pacing all wrong. No lyrical organ or piano accompanied the horrid sounds. It was nothing like the beautiful song I recalled from my youth, sitting in church with my parents. The pain-filled voice kept repeating the same verse, the halting words echoing inside my brain. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my numbed mind, I heard myself scream for the singer to stop.