Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  I nodded. “When did you start selling her the pot?”

  “Well, last year, I started growing weed when my husband Raul was diagnosed with cancer. It was the only thing that helped him with the side effects of chemo. We didn’t have insurance, so we were trying to pay for everything ourselves. He couldn’t work, and we barely survived on the money I made waitressing so I started selling joints to friends. I had no idea Melanie was into weed. But she called me and offered to pay a premium if I delivered the joints to her office every Friday night. She was real worried about anyone finding out.”

  “And when was this?” I asked.

  “Last fall,” she said.

  “So, you went to her office the same time every week?”

  “Yeah, usually between seven and eight every Friday.”

  “And you don’t deny that you were at Melanie’s office the night of April third.”

  Jasmine blinked at me. “I’ve never denied that. I told the police I was there delivering the joints. I got there around seven, stayed long enough to get paid, and then I left around ten past seven. I got into my car and went home.”

  “The police found water hemlock in the joint. How do you think it got there?” Carter asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I can tell you one thing for certain. I didn’t put it there. I am the only one who had access to my marijuana plants and I’m the only person who made the joints. That’s why someone must have visited Melanie after I left and whoever that was could have switched a poisoned joint with the one I gave her.”

  “Okay,” Carter said. “Let’s assume you’re right. Let’s say someone planned to kill Melanie and that person knew you’d be delivering the joint to her office Friday night. It is plausible that whoever went to the office after you left, was outside waiting for you to leave. Did you notice anyone sitting in a car or standing on the sidewalk? Did you notice anything suspicious at all?”

  Jasmine shook her head. “I wish I could remember, but I wasn’t really thinking about it when I left her office that night. I mean, I had no idea that she’d be dead within the hour.”

  Carter pulled at his lower lip as he studied her. I’d seen that intense look so many times before. I’m pretty sure it was designed to intimidate the person being questioned, but Jasmine didn’t seem fazed by it. Perhaps Carter’s fierce gaze was nothing compared to the ordeal she’d been through the past few months.

  Finally, I reached into my bag for the photos and showed them to her. “Do these men look familiar to you?”

  Jasmine held the photo close to her face and frowned. “I don’t think so. Why? Who are they?”

  I explained that Ryan Frazier and Charlie Cox were both close to Melanie’s husband, and I told her our theory.

  Jasmine gaped at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious? You think Gregory wanted his wife killed?”

  “Have you ever met Melanie’s husband?” I asked.

  She sat there with a bewildered look on her face but said nothing.

  “Jasmine?” I waved my hand. “Did you hear my question?”

  Her eyes focused and she shook her head. “Sorry. No, we never actually met, but I’ve seen pictures of him in Melanie’s office.”

  “He was out of the country when Melanie died so, if he killed his wife, he must have had an accomplice.”

  “Is there any way you can prove that?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “We need to talk to Ryan Frazier and Charlie Cox and see if they have an alibi for the night of April third. But right now, I need you to think back in the weeks prior to Melanie’s death. Try to think of anything that happened out of the ordinary even if it seems inconsequential.”

  Jasmine closed her eyes and breathed deeply, thinking it over. When she opened her eyes, her expression was gloomy. “Only thing I can think of that seemed a little weird happened a few weeks before. I was at home with Raul. He was feeling horrible after a round a chemo and I had just made him some tea. There was a knock on the door and I didn’t recognize the woman but when I opened the door, she introduced herself as Melanie’s sister.”

  I stiffened. “Shelly Barr?”

  “Yeah, her. She asked to come in and talk to me about Melanie.”

  “And you let her in?”

  She nodded. “Sure, I did. She seemed friendly enough at first but then I realized she had come to ream me out.”

  “Ream you out?”

  “She said she’d report me if I didn’t stop selling drugs to her sister. I could tell she was deadly serious, and I had no doubt that she’d keep her word. She started getting all religious on me; quoting some verse from the bible. It really freaked me out. Raul was there and he got a little freaked out, too.”

  “So,” I said. “What happened next?”

  “I made a promise to stop selling the weed.”

  “But you broke that promise.”

  Jasmine shrugged. “After she left, I called Melanie right away and told her that her sister threatened me. I told her I had to stop selling her the joints. But Melanie said not to worry, she’d straighten things out with her sister.”

  “Did Shelly ever contact you again?”

  “No.”

  I looked at Carter and said, “When I spoke with Shelly yesterday, she didn’t mention anything about visiting Jasmine at her home.”

  “Maybe she forgot,” he said. “Or didn’t think it was important.”

  “Or maybe she’s trying to hide something.” I turned back to Jasmine. “Did you tell the police that Shelly Barr came to visit you?”

  “No,” she said. “Nobody ever asked me about it.”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Shelly is one of those religious nuts with a warped sense of responsibility. Like those people who bomb abortion clinics. They think they’re doing God’s will. Maybe Shelly decided to kill her sister because she smoked pot and wanted to frame you for dealing the drugs.”

  Carter asked, “Shelly was never a suspect in the murder. I bet the cops never thought to find out if she had an alibi for the night of April third.”

  “There was no mention of Shelly in the police report,” I replied, “And Candice would have mentioned to me if her aunt was a person of interest.”

  Carter said, “I guess we need to have another chat with Ms. Barr.”

  I made a face. “I should give Candice a heads up. She won’t be pleased if we start accusing her aunt of murdering her sister.”

  “Candice needs to understand that our job is to follow leads,” he said, “even if it brings us to her own front door.”

  Jasmine raised her hand to get our attention. “Excuse me, but what are you talking about? Are you saying that Candice lives with her aunt? The same one who came to my house?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “After her mom died, she didn’t want to live with her step-dad anymore, so her aunt invited her to stay with her.”

  Jasmine seemed confused. “But that doesn’t make sense. Why would Shelly come to my home, ask me to stop giving Melanie the joints, only to poison her a few weeks later?”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “But it’s worth looking into.”

  Jasmine sighed, clearly on the verge of tears. “I can’t stay in this place much longer, or I’ll go insane. Do you have any idea how crazy people are in here? I mean, I’m talking bat shit crazy. My cellmate stabbed her boyfriend because he flirted with a woman at a bar. I mean, some of these women are hard-core. I don’t belong in this place. And I miss Raul so much. I feel sick to my stomach every day I can’t be with him. He needs me right now. I need to be at home, taking care of him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But we’ll do whatever we can to prove that someone else is involved but we can’t promise anything. And, speaking of your husband, do you mind if we talk to him?”

  Jasmine hesitated. “I don’t know if he can help you. He’s been too sick to pay attention to anything going on around him.”

  “Is Raul still at the apartment? Who’s taking care of hi
m?” I asked.

  “Derek is staying with him. He’s Raul’s younger brother.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five, I think. Derek is the only family Raul has left. Their parents died when they were young. Raul worked two jobs to raise his little brother. They’re very tight.”

  “How often do you and Raul talk,” I asked.

  “Three times a week. Although, Raul doesn’t have much energy, so I do most of the talking. I mean, believe me, I’d rather hear his voice than my own, but it’s comforting, just to hear him breathing on the other end, you know?”

  I could only imagine what she must be going through. Her husband is sick and she can’t be there to comfort him. She must feel completely helpless.

  “I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but what are your husband’s chances of survival?”

  “Not very good,” she said, gloomily. “The doctor gave him a year to live. But then this new chemo treatment became available a few months ago. The doctor is hopeful for some great results.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I said. “Could it possibly save his life?”

  “Maybe. We’re keeping our fingers crossed.” She paused and gave a chuckle. “I’m not a religious person, but I pray to God every night to save my husband. Maybe I have no right to ask God for any favors, but I do it anyway.”

  I wanted to offer some words of encouragement, but the guard walked in and told us our time was up.

  As Jasmine stood up from her chair, she gave Carter and me one last look. “No matter what happens, thanks for listening. This is the first time that it actually feels as if someone believes me.”

  “Hang in there, Jasmine,” I said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 11

  When Carter and I left the Framingham Correctional Facility, we headed north on 495 and drove straight to Raul Thompson’s home in Lowell.

  During the forty-minute drive, I kept thinking about Jasmine and her story. Did I believe she was innocent? Or did I think she was very clever?

  Before I became a private detective, I’d considered myself a pretty good judge of character but I realized just how easily I could be duped.

  “What do you think of Jasmine,” I asked Carter. “Do you believe her?”

  “Well,” he said, “What would she gain by killing Melanie?”

  “If anything, she’d lose money. Besides, why would Jasmine poison a joint that she sold to Melanie? If she wanted to kill her, she wouldn’t do it that way. She might be young, but I don’t get the impression that she’s stupid.”

  It was almost 2:00 when we arrived at number 5A, Wilfred Court in Lowell, a mill town known for its ethnically diverse population.

  Carter parked the Buick across the street from the apartment building and thirty seconds later we were knocking on the door of unit 5A.

  When the door opened, a young man in his early twenties greeted us. His dark hair was long in the back, shorter in the front, similar to a mullet. I guessed he was of Latin decent, but it was hard to say. His t-shirt said, Papa Joe’s Pizza. I assumed it was Raul’s brother.

  “Good afternoon,” I said to the young man. “Are you Derek Thompson?”

  He gave us a hard look. “Yeah, who are you?”

  “I’m Sarah and this is Carter,” I said. “We just visited Jasmine and she said it would be okay to stop by.”

  His hard features seemed to soften a bit. “How is she doing?”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I just played it safe. “She’d rather be home with her husband.”

  Derek nodded. “Are you lawyers?”

  I smiled. It was the second time in one day we’d been accused of that. Carter with his leather jacket and I with my jeans torn at the knee certainly didn’t look like a pair of lawyers, but whatever. “No, we’ve been hired to look into the death of Melanie Barr Frazier.” I showed him my credentials and he eventually invited us in. “We’d really like to speak with your brother, Raul.”

  “Raul’s sleeping. But maybe he’s awake now. I’ll go check on him.” He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Carter and me standing in the living room.

  The apartment smelled like one of those fake air fresheners mixed with marijuana and tuna fish. It wasn’t pleasant.

  A few moments later, a tall but extremely thin person walked into the room. He shuffled toward us, wearing sweat pants and a Boston Red Sox t-shirt. His head was shaved, and he barely resembled the robust, naked man posing in Melanie’s sex books.

  I offered a warm smile. “Raul Thompson?”

  “That’s me,” he said, dryly. His lips were cracked and his breath almost knocked me over.

  “I’m Sarah Woods. This is Carter. We’re very sorry to disturb you. Jasmine said this would be okay.”

  He blinked slowly, and rubbed his eyes as if he’d just woken up. “Are you gonna get Jasmine out of prison? She didn’t kill that woman, you know. Nobody believes her.”

  “Well,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “First, we have to prove that someone else is responsible. Can you talk for a bit?”

  Raul nodded toward the kitchen. “Sure. Want some coffee? All we have is instant.”

  “Not for me, thanks,” I said.

  Carter put a hand up, as if to say he was all set, too.

  Derek whispered something to his brother and Raul patted him on the shoulder. “Go ahead, bro. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when you get home from work.”

  Derek grabbed a ring of keys from the counter and left the house without acknowledging Carter or me.

  The three of us sat at a small kitchen table. Raul stumbled a little, but he managed to get himself in the chair. My heart went out to him. Chemotherapy was a bitch.

  “Okay, so, what would you like to know?” he asked us.

  “Well, first of all, Jasmine sends her love. She really misses you.”

  “I miss her, too.” He smiled weakly. “But I’m thankful to Derek. He’s a big help around here. The poor kid doesn’t even have time to go on a date. I’m sure having a sick brother cramps his style.”

  There was tenderness in his voice for his brother that touched me. I could tell he felt guilty for needing his brother’s assistance, but that’s what family is for.

  “How much longer do you have on chemo?” I asked.

  “My last treatment is tomorrow. Can’t wait for it to be over. I hate sitting around, doing nothing, feeling helpless.” He swallowed and made pained face like his throat was on fire. “Anyway, how can I help you guys?”

  “Well,” I said. “The reason we’re here is because Candice Barr Frazier hired us to look into her mother’s death. Did Jasmine tell you about the letter she sent her?”

  “Yeah. Jasmine never thought it would amount to much. But it looks like Candice believes her, especially if she hired you.”

  I nodded. “Now, I can imagine it’s difficult to talk about all this in your condition, but we have a few questions.” I showed him the picture of Charles Cox and Ryan Frazier. “Have you seen these guys before?”

  He glanced at the picture and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Thinking back to the weeks prior to Melanie’s death, do you remember seeing anyone loitering around your building? Strange calls? Basically, did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

  He scratched his bald head. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  “Jasmine told us about the visit from Melanie’s sister, Shelly Barr. Do you remember anything about that?”

  He made a scowl. “Yeah, I was here. That woman was a real piece of work. She threatened to report us to the police.”

  “How’d she find out where you lived?” Carter asked him.

  Raul shrugged. “I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

  Carter said, “Did you ever see her or hear from her again?”

  “Nope. She never came back. Although,” Raul squinted his eyes as if trying to remember something important. “Actually, a few days after she came here, we got a pa
ckage in the mail addressed to Jasmine. There was no name or return address on the package.”

  “What was it?” I asked.

  “A bible.”

  I paused. “Was there a note inside?”

  “Just a bible verse. Can’t remember what it said.”

  “You think Shelly sent it to you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Who else could it be? I guess it was her way of trying to convert us, save us from an eternity in hell.” He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “I don’t appreciate having religion shoved down my throat.”

  “How did Jasmine feel about it?” I asked.

  “She got pissed and threw the book in the trash.”

  I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly, so I asked, “Did you say, she threw a bible in the trash?”

  Raul nodded. “I know it sounds harsh, but Jasmine has her reasons.”

  “What reasons?” I prodded.

  “She was sexually abused by a priest when she was only ten years old. It screwed her up pretty badly. But she never complains about it. She just tries to deal with it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Raul shrugged. “Hey, Jasmine might not be a saint, but she’s got a good heart, you know. When I was diagnosed with cancer last year, she worked two jobs, just so we could afford the chemo treatments.”

  “You don’t have insurance?” I asked.

  “No. The construction company I worked for didn’t give me enough hours so I could get the health insurance. They do that on purpose. Anyway, Jasmine didn’t have insurance either and we were screwed. I couldn’t even qualify for government assistance. That’s why Jasmine started selling marijuana.”

  “So, how are you able to continue the chemo treatments now that Jasmine is in prison?”

  “Well, now that Derek has moved in, he’s covering rent and utilities. An anonymous donation is covering all the costs of my medical treatments. That couldn’t have happened at a better time.”

  I paused. “An anonymous donation? How did that come about?”

  “It was arranged through my oncologist, I guess. Thanks to a Good Samaritan, I just might survive this evil disease.”