Again in unison, PJ and I replied, "Of course, Doctor." PJ continued, "We will make no notes of today's conversation beyond that one name. We already had the other names she mentioned from the original police reports. Time is of the essence, so we would like to talk with Amanda again in a day or two, if that's possible."
He replied, "I will call you tomorrow, after I have the opportunity for some interaction with Amanda, and we can plan how to proceed." With that he rose and walked us out to the front entrance. He shook our hands and told us he looked forward to seeing us again. Of course he was looking at PJ when he made the comment, but I'm becoming accustomed to being invisible. Move over David Copperfield, here I come.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once we were in the car PJ asked, "What did you think of Amanda Bennett?"
"Call it my cynical personality, but I don't think she's nearly as sick as she pretends."
"Do you think she has Dr. Burns duped?"
I considered her question. "I don't think he's being fooled. I think he knows she's hiding from something, he just can't figure out how to get her to move forward."
PJ smirked and said, "Well, he is running a business there, don't forget that. Someone, presumably the government, is paying the bills. My guess is that she's a pretty low maintenance client, so where's the motivation to trip her up and throw her out. Her bed might be filled with a real nut."
With a smirk I asked, "Wow, who's the cynic now?"
"Too many years a cop, and one teenager, will do that to a gal."
We rode in silence a few minutes, each mentally replaying our meeting with Dr. Burns and Amanda. PJ broke the silence, "I know it's already after five, but I was thinking maybe we should see if we can catch Thelma Mae Jones at home? It wouldn't really be that far out of our way on the trip back."
"Hey, we're on a roll. Let's give it a try."
"Great. Can you dig her address out of the files in the backseat and enter it into Google Maps on my phone?"
"I thought you said it was on the way back. You don't really know where it is, do you?"
She got that cute little impish grin of hers, "I do know, well not exactly, but in general it's on the way back."
I found the address we had for Thelma Mae Jones, the maternal grandmother of Freeman Robinson who had raised him. His mother had abandoned him with Jones when Freeman was four years old. He hadn't seen his mother since then. He'd never met his father. It turned out to be only about a fifteen mile deviation from the most direct route home. PJ smiled and said, "I told you so."
We talked more about our visit with Dr. Burns and Amanda on the drive. We were both amazed at how cooperative Dr. Burns had been. We had expected a bureaucratic stone wall, but found him to be both cooperative and seemingly interested. I suggested that maybe he's been looking for an approach to motivate Amanda to confront her demons and saw us as providing that opportunity. In the end we had to admit that we had learned very little, other than the name of Jessica's best friend. Unfortunately, she was already gone from Pineywoods before Jessica's murder, so she might not prove very useful even if we did locate her.
We drove up the dusty dirt driveway to the small cement block house. The stucco exterior of the house was recently painted and the two outbuildings behind it looked equally well cared for. Several chickens were pecking the ground inside a small fenced area surrounding a coop. A ten year old Ford Taurus was parked near the back door of the house. PJ parked behind it and we both got out.
As we approached the back door it opened and a young, heavily muscled, black teenager stood in the doorway. His dark eyes glowed as he growled, "What you want?"
Without missing a beat, PJ replied, "We're investigators working for Freeman Robinson. We would like to speak with Thelma Mae Jones." She was smiling, but her tone was firm and unwavering.
"What you want her for?" His jaw was clenched and I could see his pulse throbbing in his temple.
PJ took a step forward and lowered her voice, "We're hoping that Thelma Mae can help us locate some people with information about the case."
His face didn't soften, but his voice did, "I don't think she can help you at this point. If you're working for Freeman, ask him. Granny's been through enough already."
He was starting to step back and close the door when a voice called from inside, "Who is it Melvin?"
He turned and called, "Nothing Granny. It ain't nothing to worry about."
He continued closing the door, but PJ stepped forward and put her foot between the door and the jamb calling out, "Ms. Jones, we're investigators working for Freeman, we'd like to speak with you for a few minutes. It's important."
He drew the door back and was obviously going to slam it into PJ's foot when a small shadow of a person appeared and said, "Thank you Melvin, but I would like to hear what these people have to say. Don't you have practice?"
Melvin looked down and said, "It's not practice Granny, it's a session in the weight room. I can miss it."
"No, you can't young man. You will not miss any scheduled sessions. Now you run along. I'll be just fine. These two folks don't look too threatening to me."
Melvin shuffled back, opening the door. PJ, followed by me, stepped into the house. Melvin started out the door saying, "Back in a couple hours, Granny. I've got my phone, you call if you need me."
PJ said, "Should I move my car, so Melvin can get out?"
Thelma Mae leaned forward looking out the open doorway and said, "You're fine. He can get around you okay." Taking a couple of steps toward the kitchen table in the room we had entered she asked, "Now who are you and what do you want to talk to me about?" The dusty black-skinned woman stood barely five feet tall and couldn't have weighed 100 pounds. Her deeply wrinkled face looked as if she had lived a lifetime of worry. Her appearance was that of someone in her eighties although I knew from the reports that she was sixty-two years old. Her voice didn't harmonize with her appearance. It was soft, but firm, projecting an air of someone in charge.
PJ replied, "I'm Patty Johnson and this is Jack Nolan. We're investigators hired by Henry Higginbotham, the attorney who is representing Freeman at this time."
Thelma Mae spit back, "At this time. You mean now that they're going to kill him. That's what you mean."
PJ said directly, "Yes. Time is short. Mr. Higginbotham is working on an appeal. We are working to reinvestigate the case and see if we can find anything that could provide the basis for a stay and additional time for the appeal."
"You don't need to sugar coat it young lady. You mean stay of execution. Say what you mean. They been telling me for ten years now that they're gunna kill my Freeman and I never had reason to doubt their sincerity. They intend to kill him and there's not a damn thing that can be done about it." I couldn't help but recall my conversation with Moe.
PJ indicated toward the table, "Could we sit down for a few minutes and talk, Ms. Jones, just a few minutes?"
Granny looked momentarily startled, "Yes, of course. Where's my manners, would you like a glass of water or possibly a cup of tea? I usually have tea at this time."
PJ replied, "Yes, a cup of tea would be great, thank you."
I said, "Water is fine for me, thank you Ms. Jones."
She looked at me with a scowl, "Call me Granny. Nobody calls me Ms. Jones except the police and that no good prosecutor." Her statement confirmed that this was not the time to mention our backgrounds.
While Granny filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove I glanced around the kitchen. It was dated with painted wood cabinets and linoleum counter tops, everything showed wear but it was immaculate. Other than a bowl of fruit there was nothing on the counter. The worn black and white vinyl tile floor shined. The table we were sitting at was a red Formica kitchen table from the 60's. The chrome of the table and matching chairs gleamed. I couldn't help but contrast this kitchen with Daniel Bennett's.
Granny placed two cups and a small metal box with a selection of tea bags on the table. She withdrew a pitc
her of water from the small refrigerator and placed that and a glass in front of me. She said, "It'll take a few minutes to heat the water, so let's talk. Have you talked with Freeman? How's he doing?"
PJ said, "We haven't talked directly with Freeman. We are working with Mr. Higginbotham and he is meeting with Freeman. As you well know, time is of the essence, so we were hoping you might be able to give us insight into facts that do not necessarily appear in the police reports, or didn't come up at the trial."
Granny shot back, "You mean things that racist police chief didn't think were important? Things like the fact that Jessica Bennett was having sex with half of the boys in town? Things like the fact that she hated her so called father, and he hated her? Things like that?"
I opened the pad I was carrying and started to jot down notes. PJ replied, "Those are exactly the type of facts we're interested in. Please go on. You say Jessica was having sex with lots of boys in town?"
A low whistle preceded, "I don't use the kind of words the boys do, but the local joke was that if you opened the dictionary to the word easy you found Jessica's picture. I didn't like it one bit when Freeman picked up with her, but that was one aspect of his life I had limited control over. He was a big football hero and the girls just flocked around him. I guess it was inevitable that Jessica would work her way around to him sometime." The tea kettle whistled and Granny got up to retrieve it.
After pouring hot water into both cups, Granny sat back down. PJ asked, "Jessica didn't like her father, Daniel Bennett?"
"Oh I don't think it was a matter of like, I think she hated him."
"Did you hear that from Freeman?"
"From Freeman and from Jessica herself. Freeman brought her here for Sunday dinner several times. One of my rules was that Freeman eat Sunday dinner at home with me every week. No matter how busy he thought his life was, he had to be here for Sunday dinner. Same applies to Melvin."
PJ asked, "Melvin lives with you now?"
Granny nodded, "He does. Three years now. He's a junior in high school. Three years ago he was having some real problems at home. No dad in the house and a mom who's on her way to an early grave with drugs. Melvin had started to fall in with the wrong people when my pastor asked me to let him come live with me. Since he's been here he hasn't been in any trouble, at least none I know about."
I asked, "Melvin plays football, like Freeman?"
She smiled, "He plays football, but not like Freeman. Melvin's good. Freeman was great, really great. College scouts started showing up at our door when he was a sophomore. The whole football recruiting thing was something I didn't really understand, but I was learning. You can bet I was learning, but then . . ." Her voice trailed off.
PJ asked, "Did Jessica say why she disliked her father so much?"
"He wasn't her real father, you know. She was three years old when her mother married Butch Bennett. She never met her real father. I don't know anything about him. When Amanda Parry came to town she was the unwed mother of a two year old. Don't know about her past. Somehow she picked up with Bennett and married him." A wistful look crossed her lined face and she muttered, "Some women just go from one bad apple to the next."
I stated, "But Bennett adopted Jessica."
Granny took a sip of her tea and said, "Oh yeah, he adopted her when he and Amanda married. He was painting the perfect picture for everyone. Unfortunately, it was just a facade, you know, like those fake towns they use in the movies. They look real from the front, but there's nothing behind the surface."
PJ asked, "Did Jessica say specifically why she disliked Bennett?"
Granny shook her head, "No, nothing specific. She just said she hated him. It wasn't just once or twice either, like when he wouldn't let her do something she wanted to do. You know how some kids can say really cruel things when they're mad. No, it was a much deeper emotion. To tell you the truth, if he had been the one to disappear, Jessica would have been my first suspect."
PJ and I looked at each other, I forged ahead, "Granny, do you think Butch Bennett could have had something to do with Jessica's disappearance?"
"Oh, I'd like to say yes, after all of the lies he told around town, but I got no proof. Supposedly, he was out of town, like he was much of the time, so he couldn't have done it."
PJ asked, "What lies did he tell around town?"
"He kept saying that Jessica didn't even know Freeman that well, that she would never have willingly gone with him in his car. Stuff like that. All lies, she was here for dinner, eight or ten times. First time was right after she started helping Freeman with his school work. I could help when he was young, but when he got into high school I couldn't help much. I never finished high school myself, only got through ninth grade, so . . ." The smallest tear formed in the corner of her eye as she went on, "Maybe if I could have helped him with his studies he wouldn't have picked up with her." She took another sip of her tea and we waited. Finally she continued, "So she came here sometimes on Sundays. Then after Freeman got hurt and dropped out of school he was so despondent that he wouldn't listen to anything I said. Anyway, they were dating, I guess that's what you would call it, and she came here a couple or three times then. Anytime she came here she was riding with Freeman in his car, I guess they left her car somewhere. She probably didn't want it seen here."
PJ frowned, "But you didn't testify at the trial."
"No, that worthless attorney Freeman had didn't want me to testify. He said that the jury would just dismiss anything I said as trying to help Freeman. He said the fact that Butch didn't know that Freeman and Jessica were dating wasn't really that big a deal."
PJ posed the same question to Granny that she had to Windy, "If Bennett's not involved in Jessica's disappearance, who do you think is? You must have some suspicions, Granny?"
"God knows, I wish I did. I didn't know many of the kids Freeman and Jessica hung around with. Most of the time I was working two jobs, so I wasn't here often when Freeman brought people around." Again, a dark cloud crossed her tired, weathered, face.
I looked at my notes and asked, "Granny, did you know a Debbie Chapman?"
She cocked her head and then replied, "I met her, but can't say I knew her. Heard her name mentioned a lot. She was one of Jessica's friends, maybe her best friend. She was here once, that's when I met her. Must have been their junior year in school, the three of them, Jessica, Debbie, and Freeman, were working on some school project together. They came here one evening and worked on it."
PJ asked, "But, you also heard her name mentioned a lot, was that by Jessica or Freeman?"
"I guess by both of them. Jessica was always saying how Debbie was going to leave town as soon as they finished school. Going to Miami or Atlanta, someplace like that. Jessica said she wanted to go, too."
I asked, "And Freeman, did he want to go, too?"
"Freeman always told Jessica that once he was in the NFL he'd take her any place she wanted to go."
PJ asked, "Were they that serious, they talked about a future together?"
Granny drew a deep breath and then answered, "I don't think Freeman was real serious, I think he knew that he was only a passing phase for Jessica. And that girl, I don't think she was with anybody long enough to get real serious."
We spent another forty-five minutes with Granny talking about Freeman and the case, but we didn't learn anything that seemed to jump out as a game changer. PJ gave her a business card and promised to stay in touch. As we left I couldn't help but see a woman, not beaten by life, but resigned to the reality of the beating life gave her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dusk was setting in as we pulled onto the road. With a three-hour drive ahead we weren't going to be back in Hollywood until 10:00 p.m., or later. I offered to drive, but PJ just smiled and said she was fine driving. We consulted the navigation app and decided it would be just as fast to follow the back roads south to Pineywoods before turning back east for the return trip to civilization.
As we passed through
Pineywoods we couldn't help but marvel at the total lack of movement. No cars were moving and we certainly didn't see anyone walking on the streets. It reminded me of one of those science fiction movies where something had vaporized all of the people, leaving the town untouched. The truth is that economic decline has erased much of the population of Pineywoods. In the short time I'd visited here I'd become quite certain that those remaining considered themselves victims, not survivors.
PJ glanced around and said, "I can't imagine being a cop around here. I'd die from boredom within a week."
"Don't say that too loud, Chief Davies might take offense."
"You think?"
I chuckled and said, "I do."
We drove on in silence as we both drifted with our own thoughts. A couple of miles east of town we were both jarred back to the moment by the throaty roar of a high-powered engine. A huge black pickup truck passed us like we were standing still. It was one of those trucks that are born as a standard truck, but are jacked up and shod with enormous oversized tires leaving them resembling something more at home in a Mad Max movie.
PJ muttered, "Damn, that's an accident looking for a place to happen."
It was dark enough now that the truck had its headlights on and just as it was about to disappear out of sight ahead I saw brake lights followed by a reemergence of the headlights. I didn't think much of it until I realized that it was in our lane as our vehicles were closing on each other. I said, "Can't tell for certain PJ, but I think that idiot truck is in our lane."
Driven Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 4) Page 10
