by Roy Glenn
“Why not?”
“They had their man and the jury let him walk. Police aren't gonna do too much now, it would be like admitting that they had the wrong man.”
“Do you think he did it, Daddy?”
“He could have. You talked to Desireé all the time, what do you think?”
“If there was any problems between her and Roland, she didn't tell me. He was an asshole, but Roland never did seem like the type to beat somebody to death.”
“I was sure that he did it. Now, I just don't know.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Sitting in that court room everyday; Douglas went a long way toward convincing me that he couldn't have done it.”
“That's his job.”
“I know.”
“He's supposed to make you doubt the prosecution’s case.”
“Well that's just what he did. He called their case a theory mixed with fact. And the brother ran it down.”
“At least he hired a brother to defend him.”
Carmen stood and gathered her things. “You mind if I go out the gate, Daddy? I just can't face Mother right now. And I know she's sitting right there in the living room, facing the door.” Once again the tears flowed from Carmen’s eyes. “Waiting, just like she used to when we were kids.”
“I understand, baby girl. I'll tell her you said good night.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Carmen kissed her father on the cheek. “Good night, Daddy.”
“Good night, baby girl. It sure is good to have you home. Call me in the morning and maybe I'll take you to breakfast.”
“I was thinking maybe I'll drop in and see detective Benjamin in the morning before I go to see the lawyer. What's his name?”
“Marcus Douglas.”
JUSTICE
“Marcus.”
“Yes Janice.”
“Carmen Taylor is here to see you.”
“The model?”
“Yes, the model.”
“Why is she here to see me?”
“She is Desireé Ferguson's sister. You wanted her to give a deposition on her sisters' state of mind prior to the murder. But she couldn't get away.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I remember. Didn't you cancel that?”
“My bad, Marcus. I must have over looked it, I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry about it, Janice. I'll see her. She does know the trial ended yesterday, doesn't she?”
“Yes she does, but she'd still like to see you.”
“Well, send her right in.”
Marcus stood up to receive her, his heart beat a little faster and he felt the palms of his hands were a bit damp. Janice swung the door open and ushered Carmen Taylor into the office.
“Marcus Douglas, Carmen Taylor,” Janice said, and quickly closed the door behind her.
Marcus wiped his right hand against his pants and came from behind his desk to greet her. “Ms. Taylor it is an honor to meet you,” Marcus said, as he bent at the waist and kissed her hand. It was a little over whelming for him to be kissing the hand of somebody famous. She was more beautiful in person then any of the many pictures he'd seen of her. He started to tell her, but he didn't want to seem like just another fan. A buster, lost for words in the presence of the big time model.
Carmen felt the chill running though her when Marcus kissed her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Douglas; it's nice to meet you.” She looked Marcus in the eye. He hired a good looking brother to defend him. A good looking brother, with no ring on his finger, Carmen thought.
Marcus smiled as politely as he should, trying to contain his excitement. He extended his hand toward one of the chairs facing his desk. “Please Ms. Taylor, have a seat.”
“Thank you Mr. Douglas.”
“First let me apologize for not following up with you to let you know that your deposition was no longer necessary.”
“To be honest, it would have been nice if you had. I traveled a long way to get here to be told, not only that my deposition wasn't necessary, but that the trial is over.”
“Yes, well, Ms. Taylor the judge moved the trial date and things moved a lot faster than anyone could imagine with a case like this. But, once again, Ms. Taylor I am very sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you. Now that that's out of the way, tell me what I can do for you?”
“I'm not exactly sure what you can do for me, Mr. Douglas. But what I want is for somebody to account for my sister’s murder.”
“I'm sure that you know that Roland Ferguson was found not guilty of the charges.
“Found not guilty thanks to your brilliant defense, from what I'm told.”
“I just did my job, Ms. Taylor.”
“Yes, Mr. Douglas, I'm sure that you were. But that doesn't change what I want. Mr. Douglas I've been to see the assistant district attorney and the detective assigned to the case.”
“Ms. Izella Hawkins and Detective Paul Benjamin.”
“Right, and both of them assured me that the case isn't closed and they would do everything in their power to see to it that the guilty party is brought to justice.”
“That sound like Izella.”
“Exactly, she even turned it into a photo opportunity. She had cameramen and a film crew waiting outside the office for me when I came out. They got that her little 'we'll get him' speech on film.”
“That sound like Izella, too. She's planning a run for DA. It will probably on the news at six and eleven.”
“I'm sure.”
“What about Benjamin? What did he have to say for himself?”
“Not much. Pretty much the same thing, he said he had some leads he was gonna follow up on, but there wasn't too much they could do.”
“He's right. If they arrested somebody else now for the murder his lawyer would take the outcome of this trial and build his defense around it. Benjamin would have to take the stand and answer how the investigation led him to arrest and try Ferguson for a murder he was found not guilty of. Then how could that investigation lead him to another conclusion. It would damage his credibility as a witness and make the prosecution’s case that much harder to prove. It's possible that they might pursue that option, but it's not very likely.”
“My father said the same thing. Not in as much detail, but the same thing. I asked him how this could happen. He said they had the killer, but you let him walk.”
“I'm just a defense attorney, Ms. Taylor. It was a jury of his peers that found him not guilty.”
“I understand that Mr. Douglas. It doesn't change anything.”
“I don't understand what you want from me, Ms. Taylor.”
“A little bit of justice for my sister, Mr. Douglas. That's what I'm asking for. If Roland didn't kill her, fine. Somebody did! What bothers me is that nobody is interested in finding out who did.”
Marcus looked at Carmen; He could see the pain in her eyes. He wanted to do something to help her, but knowing that there wasn't. “There's nothing I can do for you, Ms. Taylor.”
Carmen looked angrily and then turned away from Marcus. “I understand Mr. Douglas. But I assure you that I'm gonna do whatever it takes to find out who killed her.”
“I understand.”
“Do you Mr. Douglas? Do you really? Have you ever lost somebody you loved and you just wanted to know what happened and why?”
Now why she wanna go and say that? Marcus thought.
She could have said anything else, but that. Anything else Carmen could have said would have been met with a polite answer, followed by I can't help you. but that, he couldn’t dismiss so easily. The fact was; he had lost somebody.
Marcus got up from his desk and walked over to the wet bar. Carmen watched Marcus quietly as he walked. She looked at the expression on his face and knew that she had hit a nerve.
“Can I offer you a drink, Ms. Taylor?”
“It's a little early in the day for me. But it's been that kind a day. So, I'll have Bacardi, if you have it. On the rocks, please.”
Marcus fill
ed a couple of glasses with ice poured Bacardi for Carmen and Hennessy for himself. He handed Carmen her glass and returned to his seat behind the desk.
“You know it's funny you should ask me that. Have I ever lost somebody?”
“Have you, Mr. Douglas?” Carmen smiled at Marcus.
He took another sip of his drink and smiled back at her. He took a minute to admire her beauty before he answered. “An old client of mine was in trouble. Well, I won't bore you with the details, but to make a long story short, she died in my arms.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Were you two very close?”
“I'm sure it's nothing like you and your sister. But, yes, we got to be very close during the time we had together. I spend the next year asking questions. Just trying to get somebody, anybody to get it to make sense to me. I ended up in New York and hiring a private investigator to tell me what I guess I knew all along. She knew too much she could talk about. So she had to die because she wanted to get out. “
“So you do understand.”
“More than you know, Ms. Taylor.”
“So you'll help me?”
“I've was planning on taking a little vacation anyway. Yes, Ms. Taylor, I'll be glad to help in any way I can.” Marcus picked up the phone. “Janise, get me the summary notes on the Ferguson case, and give them to Ms. Taylor on her way out, please.”
“I'll have the file ready for her,” Janise replied. “Should I take the crime scene pictures out, first?”
“Definitely. And ask Garrett to call me at home tonight.”
Marcus turned his attention back to Carmen. “What I'd like you to do is look over the notes from the case. Pay particular attention to the investigation. Let me know if you think there's something that the police might have missed. That will at least give us a place to start. I'll tell Janise to give you access to any documents you want to see.”
“Okay, Mr. Douglas that sounds like a good idea,” Carmen said, as she stood up. “I want to thank you for agreeing to help me. I really appreciate it. I was beginning to think that nobody cared who killed Desireé.”
Marcus took a card from the holder on the desk and wrote his home phone number on it. He got up and handed it to Carmen. “You're welcome Ms. Taylor. I know how you feel,” he said and escorted her out of his office. “This is my number at home. Call me if you think of anything or you have any questions. Where are you staying, by the way?”
“I'm staying at the Marriott by the airport.”
“And now if you'll excuse me, it's been a long couple of months. I'm going home.”
SORTING OUT THE DETAILS
The drive home through downtown traffic was brutal. Marcus pushed Lee Morgan's The Gigolo into the CD player and loosened his tie. Of all the days Marcus picked to go home early, he would pick a day when The Braves were playing the New York Yankees in an afternoon double header.
“This is no way to start a vacation.”
Once he got on I-20 traffic began to thin out and Marcus relaxed and thought about where he was going to go on his vacation. He tossed around a few places. Aruba, Puerto Rico, the Mediterranean, Africa maybe, but he wasn't feeling any of those places. This would be the first time he'd been on vacation in three years and the first time in years he'd be going by himself. Thinking about vacationing alone started him thinking about Randa. He thought again about the places that he'd thought about going and realized he been to each place with Randa.
“For once, can you think about something else?”
Once Marcus finally arrived at home, he poured himself a glass of Hennessy and sat down in his favorite chair. He reached in the drawer of the end table and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit up. Smoking was something else he owed to Randa. He had quit smoking for her. He had quit for five years before he caught Randa cheating. After that, puffing a Kool seemed to make things easier. Marcus turned the television to CNN and before he knew it he was asleep. The phone rang to bring him out of his nod. He answered, “Hello.”
“Hello Marcus, this is Randa. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, I guess you did,” Marcus replied trying to shake himself out of it.
“I'm sorry. So, congratulations on winning your case. I saw you last night on the news. You handle the press very well.”
“Thank you, Randa. What can I do for you?”
“I told you, Marcus, I just want to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“About us.”
“There is no us Randa. There's you and there's me. You killed us,” Marcus said bitterly. “All there is between us now is business.”
“Business?”
“Yes, Randa, business. I have sold all of our property, liquidated all our assets. All sitting in an escrow account. You get a substantial monthly income. My lawyer has made you offer after offer, and you've turned them all down.”
“Marcus, I'm tired of talking to Duck.”
“Duck? Who is duck?”
“Your lawyer. Have you ever watched him walk? He waddles like a fat duck.”
“Anyway, Randa. What more do you want from me?”
“It's not the money,” Randa said and let out a little giggle. “It was at first, but now I realized it's not what I want.”
“So what do you want?”
“I want the one thing you haven't offered! I want my husband back. That's what I want, Marcus. Don't you understand that I love you?”
“You love me? That's funny. Is that what you were doing in bed with that man? Showing me how much you loved me.”
“Marcus; that was a mistake. I know that now. Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Yeah right.”
“It just happened.”
“I'm sure it did. What; were the two of you just layin' around naked and you just happened to fall on top of him?”
Randa didn't answer.
“I thought so. How could you Randa?”
“I'm sorry, Marcus.”
“I just bet you are. How long was it going on?”
“It was just that one time.”
“That's not what the neighbor woman told me.”
“Oh lord, what does she have to do with this?”
“After you left to take your boyfriend home and left me sitting on the steps like a fool, the neighbor woman walks up and says, 'I'm glad you finally woke up. And don't let her tell you that this was the first time'. I felt embarrassed, on top of feeling stupid. If the neighbor woman knew, the rest of the block did too. Maybe even the whole subdivision.”
“That bitch.”
“Oh, she's a bitch. You fuck another man, but she's a bitch. In our house! In the bed we made love in that morning! And then you had the nerve to drive him home in the Benz I paid for! And she's a bitch. Give me a fuckin' break, Randa.”
“I'm sorry, Marcus.”
“Sorry don't get it done. Not this time, Randa. I don't know why we're even talking about this.”
“Because we never have talked about this. This is the conversation we should have had a year ago. But you ran off with some woman. You were probably sleeping with her all along.”
“For your information I never slept with Yvonne.”
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“I don't give a fuck what you believe.”
“Are you two still together?”
“No were not still together, she's dead.”
“She didn't die of aids, did she?”
“No, she was murdered.”
“Why?”
“None of your damn business.”
“All right, all right, no need to bite my head off,” Randa said and then she took a deep breath. “Marcus.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“You said that.”
“Do you still love me?”
“What difference does that make?”
“It makes a difference to me.”
Marcus still had no answer.
“Marcus as much as we meant to each othe
r, after all the things we shared together, the least you could do is answer my question. Can you honestly say that you don't still love me?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Marcus got up from his seat and walked to the bar without answering.
“Marcus, are you still there?”
He poured himself a glass of Hennessy and shot it down, before pouring another one and returning to his seat. “I'm still here,” Marcus said and lit a Kool.
“You never did answer my question.”
“What question was that?”
“Can you honestly say that you don't still love me?”
“I did answer you. I said it doesn't matter.”
“It does matter. It matters to me.”
“Yes Randa, I do love you. And maybe that why it’s so hard for me to talk to you. Why I haven't moved on from this. Maybe once it's over I can finally put you and all this behind me.” Marcus took a drag and blew the smoke out.
“What's that I hear? Are you smoking again?”
“Yes,” he said, blowing the smoke into the phone to be sure she heard it.
“When did this happen? You were doing so well.”
“I started, let me see, - - - I started smoking a little more than a year ago. I believe it was the day that I came home and found my wife pulling her hair out, riding another man’s dick,” Marcus said calmly.
“I guess I deserved that,” Randa said quietly. She knew she was fighting a losing battle so she decided a change of tactic was in order. “Are you seeing anybody now?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I'm just asking. But I know you’re not seeing anybody seriously.”
“How do you know that?”
“Maybe I have a spy in your office.”
“Well we both know who that is. Ms. Tiffanie Powers, Attorney At Law and she'll be fired in the morning.”
“You're not really gonna fire Tiff? Are you?”
“Watch me.”
“That still doesn't answer my question.”
“Okay, since you seem to already know, I have somebody I see every now and then.”
“Every now and then? As much as you love doing it, Marcus. I know every now and then ain't cuttin' it.”
