by Tonya Kappes
“Do you have any leads?” she asked, not really knowing what to say.
Cortland looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, with a grimace.
“Ms. Hayes,” Detective McNabe interrupted the conversation that they’d almost had. “These officers are heading to your house, you are free to accompany them if you would like,” he said, gesturing to two uniforms hovering nearby.
“What do you mean I’m free to accompany them? I didn’t give you permission to ransack my store and I certainly won’t give you permission to enter my home,” she felt an angry flush of color flooding her face. “My daughter is at home sleeping, I won’t have you scaring her,” Marilyn’s eyes flashed.
“Ma’am, your daughter was brought in to the station just after you arrived here, for further questioning,” he peered at her without blinking.
“Further questioning? Why? What exactly is going on here, Detective?” she demanded, hands on hips.
You could mess with Marilyn and have a chance of coming out okay, but nobody messed with her baby girl and got away with it.
“Were you aware that your daughter was offered a job in Northern California as a Junior Engineer with a company that’s so successful, it’s a household name?” he asked mildly.
Marilyn opened her mouth and shut it again, feeling much like a gaping codfish, but unable to help herself. Why hadn’t Tiara told her about the offer?
“She was offered the job three weeks ago and she turned it down,” the detective continued, without waiting for a reply. “Do you know of any reason she might turn down what she referred to as a chance at her dream job?” he probed, trying to take advantage of Marilyn’s state of shock.
She wanted to argue with the quiet, pragmatic man, to tell him he was either lying or didn’t know what he was talking about, but she knew in her heart that he’d have absolutely no reason to make something like that up. It seared her to the core to think that her daughter had been keeping something that important from her, and she couldn’t even begin to figure out why Tiara turned such an incredible opportunity down.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen this,” McNabe casually handed her a stapled sheaf of paper. Marilyn looked down at the first page, reading the title. The Accepted Degradation of Women in Dating and Social Practices, then underneath the title, By Tiara Hayes.
“A school paper?” Marilyn looked from McNabe to Cortland, then back at the essay.
“Take a look at page four, there’s a highlighted section that you might find personally interesting,” he said, with a strange look on his face.
Marilyn’s heart beat faster as she turned the pages, wondering what on earth could possibly be written on page four. She was horrified when she realized that, though the names had been changed, the situations that her daughter had described and analyzed were the patterns of interaction between Marilyn and Fergus. She included some of the dead man’s comments to her mother, pointing out what she perceived to be the dysfunctional nature of the relationship, which her mother accepted as normal.
Tiara had asserted, in the paper, that Fergus’ position as a customer created situational circumstances where his dominance as a financial supporter placed him in a relationally superior position to her mother, which led to inappropriately familiar behaviors toward her. Marilyn’s daughter had painted her out to be a subservient doormat, which hadn’t been the case at all. Tiara’s contention was that her mother had allowed Fergus to treat her in a degrading manner until it became accepted as a normal. Marilyn’s hand shook as she looked up at McNabe, feeling more than betrayed and utterly bewildered
She swallowed hard, pulling herself together and regaining her cool.
“I’ve never seen this before,” she handed the paper back to him. “And I can’t say that I understand the significance of a school paper,” she challenged, staring pointedly at the detective.
“It’s a published paper for a Women’s Studies class,” McNabe stepped closer. “We talked to her professor this morning, and she said that not only is Tiara one of the best students she’s ever had, but also that she’d rarely seen such passion for a woman’s role in society. She speculated that it stems from Tiara’s relationship with her father.”
“Tiara doesn’t have a relationship with her father,” Marilyn mumbled, trying to make sense of it all. “Yes, she’s brilliant, that’s not news to me, but you called her professor?” Marilyn was confused, wishing she’d suddenly wake up and find that this was all part of a terrible nightmare.
“You should really be proud…” McNabe commented dryly. “There is something else we discovered about your daughter that raised a bit of a red flag,” he continued, consulting his notes.
Marilyn was utterly numb with fear and disbelief as she was continually pelted with information that sent her reeling. In the space of two days, her entire world had turned upside down.
“Apparently she has a rather violent past,” the detective looked at the befuddled woman in front of him, an eyebrow raised as though questioning her.
“That is entirely untrue! Tiara was taught from a very young age that violence is never the answer, she’d never hurt a fly.” Marilyn fixed McNabe with a determined stare.
She was rock-solid on this. Her daughter might get a bit mouthy with her mother on occasion, but would never dream of using any kind of physical means to resolve any sort of conflict. She’d been raised better than that.
“Tiara was a part of an altercation at an Irish Pub near her campus,” McNabe paused dramatically, allowing time for the information to sink in. “She hit a man over the head with a beer bottle...which could have been considered assault with a deadly weapon if the District Attorney had elected to charge her more harshly. She was arrested, along with her then boyfriend Samuel Freed. Mr. Freed has a very long track record of reckless and dangerous behavior and spent two months in prison after his trial. Your daughter was lucky, she took a plea bargain and got off with 500 hours of community service.”
Marilyn thought her heart would pound right out of her chest. Tiara had told her all about the ‘volunteer work she was doing’ but she’d never mentioned the reasons behind it. As a mother, she felt at the moment that everything she had known and believed in was ebbing away like a dwindling tide, and she swayed slightly, feeling rather faint.
“With all due respect, Ms. Hayes. Perhaps you don’t know you’re daughter as well as you think,” McNabe commented gravely, receiving a warning look from Bernard Cortland, who believed that diplomacy solved more crimes than cruelty. The truth should always be presented, but it wasn’t necessary to use it as a bluntly traumatic weapon.
“What are you suggesting?” Marilyn clenched her teeth and stiffened her shoulders to control the trembling that threatened to overtake her.
This sarcastic and rude Miami detective could not possibly think her 21-year-old daughter had anything to do with this. She needed to see Tiara, she had to talk to her to figure this out.
“Did your daughter know that Fergus Downey came in to your store every Wednesday and Saturday?” McNabe began questioning her again.
“I have nothing more to say to you, Detective,” Marilyn said feeling like the breath had been knocked out of her. “And my daughter will not be answering any other questions without an attorney present.”
“Your daughter is well above the age where she can make that decision for herself. She’s been made aware of her rights under the law, and what she elects to do is her business, not yours, Ms. Hayes,” McNabe said quietly, clearly finished with the conversation.
The hairy detective from Miami left without another word, leaving Marilyn standing open-mouthed, stewing in her own juices.
Chapter 9
“What’s happening?” Marilyn asked faintly, turning to Detective Cortland.
“Whatever it is, doesn’t bode well for your daughter,” the detective said sympathetically. “I can’t give you legal advice, but if it was my kid, I’d be looking
for a darn good lawyer.”
“You don’t think Tiara had anything to do with this, do you?” Marilyn hated the pitiful tone in her voice.
Cortland shifted his weight and looked over to where McNabe stood, in the doorway of the shop, then turned his gaze back to Marilyn.
“My gut tells me no, but I’m not privy to all of the evidence that the Miami guys have collected, so it’s a tough call. It certainly appears that McNabe thinks it’s a good possibility though.”
Marilyn’s heart sank. How could her daughter be implicated in a murder? Obviously, Tiara hadn’t murdered anyone, but she’d also never bothered to tell Marilyn about Samuel Freed, or the bar fight and subsequent arrest. She’d never confided in her mother about the position in California…it seemed that her beloved daughter was turning into someone whom she didn’t really know.
“I need to go to the station. Tiara is there. She must be so frightened,” Marilyn shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed.
“Let me drive you,” Cortland offered.
“No, I need—” Marilyn was visibly falling apart.
Seeing that the mother in front of him was clearly frantic and verging on hysterical, the detective interrupted, “You can’t help your daughter if you have an accident because you’re too upset to drive. Let me drive you.”
As much as she hated giving up even that much control, Marilyn knew he was right, and nodded, letting herself be led to his car. She was incredibly thankful when she saw that his unit was unmarked, so at least she wouldn’t feel like a criminal. She took several deep breaths, trying desperately to calm down. She wouldn’t be a help to Tiara or anyone if she couldn’t get rid of the horrible feeling creeping up her spine, threatening to overwhelm her completely. She kept quiet, her thoughts whirling miserably, for most of the ride to the police station, but eventually couldn’t contain her curiosity.
“Who was the woman in the shop? The one who went to the bathroom? Have they found her?” Marilyn asked Bernard Cortland, as if he was no longer an adversary, but an ally. She knew she was grasping at straws, but Tiara’s reputation was on the line.
“I’m not able to discuss those kinds of details about the case with you,” he said, opening the car door for her when they pulled up to the station.
She stood waiting for an answer, and the detective sighed, seeming to know that she’d badger him for quite some time before giving up, if he didn’t answer her.
“I believe she’s inside being questioned as well,” he inclined his head toward the building.
“Thanks,” she said to Cortland as he closed the car door. “I don’t like that man, McNabe,” Marilyn said, pursing her lips.
She looked over at the detective for a reaction, and thought that she may have seen him smile just a tiny bit, saying nothing.
Panic set in when they entered the station, and Marilyn strode right past the reception area looking for Tiara. The young woman was nowhere to be seen in the busy room filled with desks and officers. She noticed a closed door with the shades drawn and walked over, rapping loudly on it. When her knock wasn’t answered immediately, she rapped again, more loudly this time. The door opened and she saw two uniformed officers and a woman she’d never seen before, seated at a table.
“She’s not here,” Cortland’s hand was suddenly on her elbow, directing her hastily away from the interrogation room.
The detective gave a thumbs up to the uniformed officers and they closed the door.
“Where is she?” Marilyn demanded.
“On her way home, apparently they just finished with her.”
Marilyn battled an overwhelming urge to sit on the floor in the middle of all the desks and cry. She needed to see her daughter. She needed this to go away. She needed more oxygen. Bernard continued to guide her by the elbow.
“Why don’t you call her?” he suggested, leading her into his office to buy some time, hoping she’d calm down.
Marilyn pulled out her phone and hit her daughter’s speed dial number. The call immediately went to voicemail, Tiara’s sweet voice came on and Marilyn imagined how uncomplicated life must have been when she’d made that message. She hung up without leaving a message, knowing that Tiara would see it and call her back.
“Was that her? Was the woman in that room the woman who was in my shop when Fergus died?” Marilyn asked the detective.
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, staring hard at her.
“I’ll be right back,” she jumped up and headed for the interrogation room, leaving the stunned detective sitting in his office.
The woman from the store had just left the interrogation room, and was now nearly to the exit door. Marilyn waited until the she was no longer accompanied by police officers, then walked casually out of the building behind her. The mystery woman had short frizzy blonde hair, and looked like she might be younger than Marilyn, but her clothing was frumpy, which made her appear older.
“Excuse me,” Marilyn called out, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
She smiled when the fair-haired woman turned around. Close-up, her face seemed even younger - late thirties at most.
The woman gave Marilyn a wary look, which was completely understandable, under the circumstances.
“I’m sorry to bother you, I’m Marilyn Hayes, I own SubLime Sweets…the shop you went into yesterday…My daughter was the tall thin blonde girl, Tiara.”
“Okay…” the blonde continued to look at her suspiciously.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to say thank you. Tiara said you really jumped into action calling for help so quickly…” Marilyn fudged around the truth a bit. “If circumstances had been different you may have saved Fergus’ life.”
“I’m Tammy Barker,” she held out a flabby hand. “I wish I could have been more helpful, but…it’s just so sad, I thought he had a heart attack or something, he just sort of slowly fell to the ground.”
“So sad,” Marilyn agreed, shaking her head to mirror Tammy’s body language. “Isn’t it terrible? He was a friend of mine, a really nice guy. Fergus came into the shop at least twice a week.”
She studied the younger woman’s face for a reaction of any kind. Tammy lightly placed a sympathetic hand on Marilyn’s forearm. Her face seemed so genuine…
“I’m so sorry you had to go through this on your vacation,” Marilyn added, trying again.
“I can’t complain, I’m still alive,” she crossed her arms and shuddered as though a shiver had run down her spine.
“When you walked into the shop, do you remember what you saw?” Marilyn asked, trying to sound merely curious.
“Oh, yes, I remember very well. I walked in and your…daughter?” she questioned, remembering. Marilyn smiled and nodded. “She was in the front of the shop with a guy, handsome, maybe early thirties.”
“Drew”, Marilyn thought, trying not to grimace.
“…I talked to an older woman who had to ask your daughter if I could use the restroom so I can only assume she’s new.”
“Good deduction,” Marilyn thought, nodding her encouragement.
“The girl…your daughter, told me to be careful because there were two men doing work and there might be tools on the floor, I remember because I didn’t see any tools on the floor,” Tammy cocked her head to the side as though she found that odd.
“What were the men doing?” Marilyn prompted.
“Well I only saw one, a very large man.”
“You told the police this?”
“Of course,” the woman looked offended. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Good, good…” Marilyn tried to look supportive and understanding, wondering where Joe had been when Tammy was walking to the bathroom. “And then…?” she led, wanting the woman to continue.
“Then I went to the bathroom…” Tammy said matter-of-factly.
“And… after that?”
“I came out, I don’t know if I saw the other repair man or not, because I wasn’t really looking…I got halfway to the front whe
n I saw the man…the one who…” she shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to finish her sentence.
“Fergus…” Marilyn naturally inserted his name then kicked herself for interrupting, but Tammy resumed speaking as if on cue.
“He was, well he must have been walking away…out of the store, because he was turning around…that’s when I saw his face, it was so…his eyes were big, and he was changing color. I think he grabbed the edge of a table then sort of slid to the sidewalk. I stayed until the ambulance came.”
“I arrived right as the ambulance was taking him away,” Marilyn nodded. “I don’t remember seeing you before…Do you remember seeing me” Marilyn tried to run through the images in her memory.
“Maybe, we may have just missed each other in the commotion, I suppose,” Tammy shrugged.
