Jonelle smiled at the word patients. “That’s okay. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
They shared a laugh. Out in the hall, Jonelle remembered she forgot to ask Dr. Kelly when he last had a face-to-face with Sophia.
CHAPTER 22
Although Jonelle felt her meeting with Kelly provided her with a few bits of information about Susanna, it still didn’t answer the question of why his ex-wife ended up on the streets of Baltimore. Even though he appeared helpful, Jonelle couldn’t shake the feeling that the good doctor was holding something back.
And where was the 330,000 dollars? When Jonelle arrived at her office the next day following her meeting with Kelly, a message from Adrienne waited. Adrienne had promised Jonelle she’d talk to one of the doctors at the university’s teaching hospital to see if they could explain what kind of person would kill someone in such a horrific manner and then smear paint on their face? Not only that, why go to all the trouble of making some? Why not just buy paint or makeup at a store?
The message advised that a Doctor Frances Pope could spare a half hour with her. Since her last job was working security on the campus, Jonelle knew exactly where to find the building that housed the office. She avoided a detour over to her former place of work; she didn’t want to explain her career after she left. She’d heard her former colleague Tyrone had found himself a girlfriend and according to Adrienne, the two were getting serious. Good for him. When she worked there, she knew Tyrone had a soft spot for her.
Her eyes scanned the clogged street. Classes had resumed over a month ago which made finding a good place to park a hit or miss proposition. Had she gone over to security they’d have given her a parking pass.
With a sigh, she aimed for the large covered lot. She took a ticket and grumbled about the prices posted on the side of the structure. She found a spot near the top, locked her Jeep and hustled down to the entrance, skirting traffic on her way to the doctor’s office. She had five minutes to spare before her appointment.
Once inside the building, she decided to take the stairs to the next level. The metal door opened onto a long hallway. She took a deep breath and hightailed it down the hall. At this rate, she wouldn’t have to worry about formal exercises to lose weight. Her job as a bona fide detective was all she needed.
She knocked on the doctor’s door. A soft “come in” later and Jonelle found herself just a few feet from the doctor’s desk.
A small, light-skinned African American woman with close cropped hair and freckles running across her nose smiled at her. “Ms. Sweet?”
Jonelle nodded. The pleasant-looking woman sat behind a desk piled high with papers. On the walls several framed documents occupied space with several “grip and grin” photos. Shelves of various sizes overflowed with books.
“Students have another hour until I consult with them although”—Dr. Pope looked at her watch—“they usually start lining up about now.” The doctor left her chair, motioned for Jonelle to sit across from the desk and locked the door. She didn’t speak until she returned to her seat.
“Ms. Roth indicated you had a few questions about a victim that you’re consulting with the police about. I advised her that all I’d be able to do is provide you with some basic generalities. I’d need to know a lot more before I could make a more thorough observation.”
“I realize that, so thank you for taking the time. I guess all I really want is your impressions on what was found on the woman’s face.”
Jonelle explained the white makeup, and what it was made of. “I’m not tracking down the perpetuator or anything. I only want to know what kind of person would do something like this.”
Dr. Pope explained again that she didn’t do pop psychology and criminal psychology was not her specialty. Still. “Did you see the face yourself?”
Jonelle shook her head.
“Were any other marks on the face?”
“A black substance covered the eyes and mouth. How big of a difference does that make?”
The doctor turned around and pulled a large book from her bookcase. With a frown she flipped several pages until she found what she was looking for.
“Ah, here it is. There’s a condition called coulrophobia. Basically, it’s a fear of clowns … well not so much clowns per se. It’s more the idea that you have a normal-sized person with a painted face, unusual clothes and oversized feet. The natural instinct is to wonder what’s under all that.”
Jonelle had never heard of it and asked the doctor about the spelling.
“Sometimes the makeup can function as a type of mask. It can hide a person’s true identity as well as give them the opportunity to adopt a new one. Perhaps it was the killers way of saying they knew this person was not who she appeared to be.”
That last point hit home. Susanna was trying to hide something. But how did the killer know that? Up until now Jonelle was going with the assumption that a stranger might have killed Susanna.
“So, you think maybe the face painting has to do with hiding something, like clowns do?”
Doctor Pope smiled. “Not in the basic way. One of the things that people find most disturbing about clowns is that they have two sides. They are not always happy; they can be downright creepy and scary. A lot of people identify with that.”
“Hmm.” Jonelle’s eyes wandered around the cluttered office. “The deceased is a twin of the person who hired me to find out how her sister ended up on the Baltimore streets.”
Concern clouded the doctor’s eyes. “Does the sister wear a lot of white makeup?”
“Not white, exactly. Just a lot of it. I visited the area where the victim was from and there are several Native American tribes in the area. What about the possibility that it was some kind of native ritual?”
“Anything’s possible, but I would have expected the color to be something other than white. Say, red for example, if whoever did this wanted to make a particular point. In most cultures white reflects innocence and purity. Though black around the eyes and mouth suggests power, death, evil and mystery … something negative.”
Jonelle pondered that a moment. “There’s another thing. She was also a member of her high school theater group. Do you think that could be a connection?”
Doctor Pope shook her head. “Without knowing more about the victim, I can’t really say. Sometimes face painting is considered sexual, but I don’t see evidence of that from what you described. What I find most interesting is the fact that you said the substance on her face was homemade. You can buy theatrical makeup anywhere.”
“So why do you think he went to all the trouble to make it?”
“Maybe he was smart enough to realize tracing special makeup would be easier than buying the ingredients at a drugstore. So, it tells me your murderer is somewhat intelligent.”
And that the murder was premeditated, Jonelle thought.
“Have you talked to the surviving twin? Does she have any ideas?”
A loud knock on the door interrupted them. “Just a moment,” the doctor called out.
“She claims she doesn’t know why.”
“Claims?”
Another knock, more insistent this time. “Hold on a moment,” Doctor Pope shouted. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you believe her?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“Hmm. This is pure speculation, but anyone who takes the time to manipulate a body isn’t too concerned about getting caught and that makes him—or her—very dangerous. You say the victim was a twin?”
Jonelle’s stomach clenched. What if the killer had personal issues with Susanna?
“Do you think the surviving twin is in danger?”
“I can’t say for sure but it doesn’t sound like this was a random act. The person who did this might want to do the same to the lookalike.” Doctor Pope looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve got to see the students.”
Jonelle stood and held out her hand.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,”
the doctor said.
“You were very helpful. You’ve given me a lot to consider.”
The doctor nodded. “The door opens without a key, so if you don’t mind letting whoever that is, enter?”
Jonelle smiled. “No problem.”
On the other side of the door stood a skinny boy whose demeanor and red-blotched face indicated he hadn’t been long out of high school. He stared open-mouthed at her.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Doctor Pope called to the visitor. “Come on in. You’ve got twenty minutes before my next appointment.”
CHAPTER 23
As Jonelle sat in the coffee shop across from campus, she reviewed her conversation with Doctor Pope. She realized the doctor was at a disadvantage from not conducting her own study, but there were a few things that resonated.
Jonelle hadn’t considered the sexual component until the doctor brought it up and dismissed it. The only person she knew of with the opportunity for a physical relationship was Kelly. And maybe Luther. The doctor pointed out the mask aspect and Jonelle thought back to her time in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and her conversation with Ayasha, the only Native American she met. Maybe white was used, not because of the symbolism, but because it was easier to make. As she took another sip of coffee, her cellphone rang. On the other end was an angry Rainey.
“Where are you?” Rainey demanded.
Jonelle wasn’t used to hearing that tone coming from the receptionist and it took her back. “Uh. I just finished an interview. Do you need me back at the office?”
“You better believe it. There’s somebody yelling into the intercom outside that he needs to speak to you. I’m not buzzing him into this building until I know who he is. I don’t like the way he sounds.” Rainey went on to say that another of the building’s occupants refused to let him in because he looked like a homeless person.
“Sounds like Luther,” Jonelle said, gulping down the rest of her coffee. “Tell him to stay where he is. I’m on my way.”
Jonelle sped down the road, nervously glancing in the rearview mirror and hoping she wouldn’t encounter a policeman intent on proving a point about speeding … or blowing through yellow lights. She quickly pulled into her assigned space in the open lot and nearly toppled over onto uneven concrete as she rushed to the building. A disheveled shape limped off in the distance.
“Luther! Hold on.”
He turned around slowly at the sound of her voice.
“I was gonna give you up,” he said as Jonelle approached.
“Sorry. I had an appointment,” she said, gasping for breath. “If I’d known you wanted to see me.” She thought a moment. “Do you still have that pay per use cellphone I bought you last year?”
Luther shook his head. “Lost it. Still had this here card you gimme. That’s how I knew where you worked.” He looked at the building. “Didn’t know it was gonna be like tryin’ to get into Fort Knox though.” A frown creased his already deeply lined forehead. “That lady that answered is kinda mean.”
Jonelle laughed. “Rainey’s a sweetheart. Just a little protective that’s all.” She had no problems with Luther coming to the office, but wondered how the other tenants would react to his being there. Almost as soon as the thought occurred she dismissed it. Who cares? Luther was her client.
She walked up to the building and was about to press the security code when he stopped her.
“Uh-uh. Don’t wanna go in there. I just hafta tell you somethin’.”
Jonelle looked around. “There’s a park about a block and a half from here. Would that do?”
“I know where it’s at.” Luther shambled off with Jonelle by his side. Neither spoke on the short trip over. Jonelle knew from past experience not to rush him. He’d tell her what he had to in good time.
The word park was generous. It basically encompassed a bit of green set off in the middle of the north and southbound traffic on one of the areas busiest streets. The park boasted some trees and a few benches. The sparse grass was dotted throughout with bare spots. Jonelle and Luther sat down on a bench in the center of the median. Luther spied a few indigents milling about and grunted.
Three men eyed them suspiciously. “Do you know who they are?”
“I seen ‘em around.”
“Would you rather go someplace else?”
“Naw. They just eyeballin’ us ‘cause they know you don’t belong.”
Jonelle took that as a complement. She’d have to wait until he decided to speak, although the fact that he came to see her, rather than her having to track him down, indicated whatever it was, was important. She forced herself to rein in her impatience.
“Saw that there lawyer you got me,” he said.
So that’s why he wanted to see me, Jonelle thought. She tried not to show her disappointment. “What did he say?”
Luther shrugged. “Not much, you ask me. Claims the cops no longer think I’m a … whatchacallit … person of interest.”
Jonelle knew the fact that Luther was walking around freely spoke volumes as to whether or not the police had any evidence against him.
“It’s about Chester,” he said. “He come back finally, but he’s layin’ low. He’s scared that them guys what beat him up is gonna come lookin’ for him again.”
“He tell you why they attacked him?”
Luther leaned forward, brow furrowed in concentration. “Gotta make sure I git this right ’cause he wasn’t too happy he tole me this much.” Luther was seized by a coughing fit.
Jonelle fidgeted while Luther got himself under control.
He coughed up something wet and spit it on the ground.
“Chester says he went around tellin’ people Suze had a big secret involvin’ money,” Luther said, once the spasms subsided. “There’s no way he knows where the money is, ’cause she never told me. And if anyone would know, I would.” More coughing ensued.
“Anyway,” he croaked, “one of the losers what hangs out in front of Micky D’s near the Harbor was braggin’ about some guys payin’ him to tell them which guy was Chester. Loser claimed they had somethin’ to give Chester. They give it to him all right. He says he was headin’ back to the warehouse when he was jumped and they started beatin’ up on him.”
“Did Chester mention whether or not they said anything to him? Either before they started hitting him, or before they ran off?”
Luther sat back and stared up at the sky. “Chester remembers them callin’ his name. When they walked up to him, they asked him if he knew a white lady named Susanna. He had a funny feelin’ so he said, no and one of them shoved him into the other one. And back and forth like playin’ keep away. Punchin’ him and laughin’ all the while.” Luther hesitated and took several long drags of his cigarette. Finished, he flicked the butt into the grass.
“Chester says while they’s beatin’ him, he hears runnin’ and yellin’ and the guys ran off. But not without threatenin’ him again.”
“Is that all?”
“Here’s the thing.” Luther reached inside the pocket of not so well-worn, almost clean, jeans and retrieved another cigarette. Jonelle wondered if his pants were one of several pair that she’d given him. For a man who had nothing, the fact that he still could afford to smoke was somewhat amazing.
“Like one?” he asked.
She shook her head. “What else can you tell me?” She waited while he filled his lungs with nicotine and blew smoke off in the distance.
“While they was playin’ with Chester, he said they kept askin’ him about money. He said he didn’t know nuthin’ that he was just braggin’ is all.” Luther shook his head over and over. “Damn fool. Never did know when to keep his mouth shut.”
Jonelle stood, intending to pace, then sat again. “They mention any other names besides Susanna’s?”
“He says no. And the old fool had sense enough not to mention mine.” Luther stretched his legs out in front of him.
“What else does he know about the men?”
“Dark hair and eyes?”
Luther nodded. “He said long, straight hair. Plus they was kinda husky in build. Chester said they near abouts broke his jaw, they hit him so hard.”
Jonelle had more questions. “Did he notice a car?”
“Naw. He didn’t pay no attention to them until they walked up to him.”
Luther glanced at Jonelle. “He also tole me somethin’ about Suze.” He paused again.
Jonelle held her breath.
The sound of traffic whooshing by coupled with the occasional thunk as a wheel found a pothole reverberated in the air.
“Chester claims the day before she was killed he seen Suze go in one ‘a the short-sheet hotels near Pimlico.” Luther turned to Jonelle. “Suze didn’t like Chester and the feelin’ was mutual.” He turned back around and gazed up at the sky. “Chester claims he was curious so he waited and sees Suze come out again, dressed different. And she wasn’t alone. She had some guy with her.”
Jonelle’s heart raced. “What guy? Had he seen him before?”
Luther shook his head. “He didn’t know who it was. Never seen him around.”
Jonelle tried to control her excitement. “I need to speak to Chester. Can you bring him to me or would it be best if I go see him?”
“None ‘a the above.”
Even knowing Luther’s penchant for being difficult, Jonelle wondered at this latest evasion. Wherever this attitude was coming from, she wasn’t in the mood to play games.
After a few minutes of watching traffic and trying not to inhale too much exhaust from cars traveling on both sides of the median, Jonelle was ready to pack it in. She rose from the bench.
“Aw, sit down. Bit touchy today ain’t you?”
Jonelle sat. “Not a good day this morning. So, when can I speak to Chester?”
He shrugged.
She set the issue of Chester aside for now. The time had come for Jonelle to ask Luther something that had been bugging her. “What did Susanna tell you about the money?”
The Trickster (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 3) Page 15
