by Roy Glenn
“Who else could have? Who else would do something like that?”
“A jury found Mr. Ferguson, not guilty. And you still think he's guilty, Ms. Watts?” Marcus asked.
“A man like that, rich, and powerful, he has a way of getting the things he wants done. If he didn't do it, he knows who did.”
“That's what we're trying to find out,” Carmen said. “Mr. Douglas has agreed to help me find out who did it. The police don't seem to be interested.”
Helen looked angrily at Marcus, and then she turned to Carmen. “So what can I do for you, Carmen?”
Carmen sat forward in her chair. “Well, I was going over the police reports and I noticed that the police never talked to Suzanne.”
“We we're hoping that we could talk to her, Ms. Watts,” Marcus said, and Helen gave him a dirty look.
“You don't know, Carmen?” Helen asked looking curiously at Carmen.
“Know what?”
“Suzanne is dead. She died two weeks before Desireé. I thought you knew?”
“Oh my God, no, Dez never told me. I’m sorry,” Carmen said reaching out for Helen's hand.
“Your sister never mentioned it to you?” Marcus asked.
“No, Marcus, she didn't,” Carmen said sadly, and then she turned to Helen. “How did she die?”
“They found her dead in her office. They don't know how she died. They were still investigating,” Helen replied sarcastically.
“How is Frank taking it? I know he must be crushed.”
Once again Helen looked curiously at Carmen. “Frank's dead, too. He took Suzanne's death very badly. He was frustrated with the police not being able to tell him how she died. I guess it got to be too much for him, because he went to her grave site and shot himself.”
“I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Watts. Can you tell me how long after his wife died did your brother commit suicide?” Marcus asked.
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Marcus asked, and he looked at Carmen.
“I believe it was the day before Desireé was murdered,” Helen said.
“Helen we're sorry to have bothered you. I am so sorry. Frank was a good man.” Carmen paused. “Did the police ever talk to you about any connection to their deaths, and Desireé’s murder?”
“No.”
“I wouldn't think they would,” Marcus said as he stood up. “Sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Watts.”
“Why not?” Carmen asked. “Why don't you think they would ask about a connection?”
“Because Frank committing suicide wouldn't appear to have any connection to Desireé,” Marcus said and started for the door. “Let's go, Carmen. We've taken up enough of Ms. Watts time.”
Reluctantly Carmen stood up and followed Marcus to the door. They apologized once again, and said good night. Once they were in the car and drove off, Carmen asked Marcus why he rushed her out of there?
“Because it was time to go. Helen couldn't tell us anymore and all we would have done by continuing to ask questions is upset her.”
“Okay, I guess you're right. But you do think there's a connection, right?”
“Could be a coincidence.”
“It's more than a coincidence, Marcus. I'm sure of it.”
“Is that what your years of investigative experience tells you?”
“Well,” Carmen smiled.
“Look, Carmen, it may be just a coincidence, maybe not.”
“Well what are we gonna do now?”
“We investigate, Carmen. The best thing to do is to find out more information about how they died.”
“How are we gonna do that?”
“I know a private investigator who does works for me sometimes. Ex-cop, still has some contacts in the department. I'll talk to him; see what he can find out. You have any idea why Desireé wouldn't tell you that Suzanne was dead?”
“No. I wouldn't think she would keep something like that from me.”
“What are you doing tomorrow, Carmen?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“I was thinking about paying a visit to your brother in-law. Wanna tag along?”
“Of course I do. What time?”
“I'll pick you up about noon. That too early for you?”
“No, it's not too early; I'm always up at the crack of dawn, anyway. And this time I promise I'll be ready. What do you wanna talk to Roland about?”
“I want to ask him about Suzanne.”
“You think he'll talk to us?”
“Why shouldn't he talk to me, I'm his lawyer. Besides he should be glad to help find who killed his wife.”
“I'll be ready,” Carmen replied, but she was no longer smiling.
“What's wrong?”
“Dez and Suzanne had been friends for years. Now they're both dead,” Carmen said quietly. She said nothing else on the way back to her hotel, and Marcus let her have her space.
UNTOUCHABLE
After dropping Carmen at her hotel, Marcus checked into a Residence Inn. Once he was settled into his room, he called and left a message for Connie Talbert, Roland Ferguson's assistant, and requested to see him in the afternoon around one. Marcus poured himself a drink, and then checked his messages. Randa had called to say that she was sorry about everything in general, and mad about not getting to his house fast enough.
“But I still think we need to talk. Maybe we can meet somewhere, in public. I know you won't call me. So I'll call you.”
To delete this message, press seven. Marcus quickly complied.
The next message was from Garrett Mason. Garrett used to work for the city of Atlanta police, but he got caught up in a corruption scandal. Marcus defended him. He was eventually cleared of the charges, but the damage was done. He quit the force and went into business for himself as a private investigator. Garrett had done some work for Marcus, and over the years they've become friends. He returned the call.
“Hello.”
“What's up, Garrett, this is Marcus.”
“Congratulations, Mr. Big time lawyer. Here's hoping that this will create a financial boom for both of us.”
“Thanks. How's it going with you?”
“Going good. Busy, but busy gets you paid.”
“You working on something now?”
“Yeah; working on an embezzlement case. Real high tech stuff.”
“High tech? What do you know about high tech?”
“Enough to know that I don't know anything about it. And enough to know I needed to hire someone who does.”
“You hired an operative? You, Mr. go it alone Mason? Say it ain't so.”
“Not this time, Marcus. I hired a chick named Jamara Deneè. And Marcus, she is so damn fine.”
“She any good? As an operative, I mean.”
“She can get in there and hack with the best of them. But you know I know how good she is.”
“Where'd you find her?” Marcus asked.
“Her probation officer recommended her.”
“She's on probation?”
“For embezzlement.”
“I thought you said she was good?”
“She is.”
“If she's so good, how'd she get caught?”
“She got cocky,” Garrett said. “Hit the place she worked. But before that she was hacking into companies through their websites. Hitting them a little here a little there. Enough to buy herself a five bedroom house and a couple of cars. The house and the cars are in somebody else's name. Some old friend of the family that lives in the islands somewhere. But she was smart, she kept her apartment and her old Toyota and when she went to the apartment it was always in the Toyota.”
“How's she working out?”
“She's all up in it. Got her working undercover at the company. I'm doing my thing on the outside. It's working, man,” Garrett told his friend. “This could open up a whole line for me, especially with the clientele you’re about to have access to.”
“You got time to look into something for an old frie
nd?”
“Sure, what you got?”
“I need you to find out all you can about a Suzanne and Frank Collins.”
“What’s the deal with them?” Garrett asked.
“She was found dead in her office. He was frustrated with the investigation, so frustrated that he shot himself at her gravesite,” Marcus explained.
“Who’s the client?”
“Carmen Taylor.”
“Carmen Taylor? Where have I heard that name before?”
“She's Desireé Ferguson's sister.”
“The model?”
“Yes, Garrett, the model.”
“What's she like?” Garrett asked excitedly.
“She's very nice.”
“That's not what I meant. Is she fine?”
“As hell. She is so beautiful that it's intimidating. My palms got all sweaty when I met her. And I find myself getting tongue tied when she looks at me. She has such beautifully piercing eyes, and a big pretty smile. Garrett, you just don't know.”
“Maybe you'll introduce me.”
“Maybe.”
“That is unless you're planning on keeping her to yourself?”
“What do you care, you're married,” Marcus said.
“My being married is irrelevant,” Garrett replied.
“Not to Paven. She would think it's relevant.”
“Anyway. You at her, or what?”
“No. She's way out of my league.”
“She's just people. And besides, you may not have noticed it yet, but you're a big time lawyer now. Been on TV and shit. Women will be lining up to get next to you. So maybe it's her who's out of your league,” Garrett said. “So what does the late Collins couple have to do with her?”
“The woman was Desireé Ferguson's best friend. Carmen was going over the case file and noticed that the police never talked to her. I'm just looking for any connection.”
“Okay, I'll check on it. But what does it have to do with you? They found Ferguson not guilty.”
“True, but somebody killed her sister. She wants to know who. Police don't seem interested in reopening the case, so she asked me to help her.”
“Marcus, you're not gonna run off on another wild goose chase? Are you?”
“No, Garrett. I'm not gonna try to investigate this on my own. But I coulda used you the last time.”
“Like I told you then, that black bag stuff wasn't nothing either one of us needed to get involved in. All the time and money you put into it, and for what? For somebody to tell you what I told you already. People in that game don't retire, they get retired. Permanently.”
“Lighten up, Garrett, I said I wasn't gonna do anything. And if we get any fresh leads we'll turn them over to the police.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that. You do the lawyer thing, and leave the investigating to me.”
“I did call you and ask you to do just that. Didn't I?”
“Just checking.”
“Don't worry about me, Garrett.”
“I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what I found out,” Garrett said and hung up the phone. After which, Marcus fell asleep thinking about Carmen. Thinking about Desireé Ferguson's brutal murder. And then Randa creeped into his dream.
Marcus picked up the papers off the printer, when he thought he heard a noise. Marcus stood still for a second, but he didn't hear anything. He turned off the computer and headed for the door. He was out the house, and he was just about to close the door, when he heard the noise again. He turned around and walked up the steps straight to the bedroom and opened the door. There was Randa, in bed with another man. Pulling her hair out riding his dick. Marcus stood there, watching. He couldn't move. Then he looked down and realized that he had a golf club in his hand. He gripped the nine iron tighter, and his eyes narrowed as Marcus walked slowly toward the bed, still unnoticed. He raised the club above his head and once again he couldn't move. He started to swing, but he couldn't move.
Randa moaned loudly, “That's the spot!”
Marcus felt the anger well up inside him. He swung the club and hit Randa in the head. Randa's blood squirted across his face. The impact of the blow knocked her off the man on to the bed. Marcus walked slowly around the bed, as the man grabbed his pants and headed for the door. He stood over Randa, she looked at Marcus, trying to speak, but no words came out. He raised the club again. Randa screamed, “I LOVE YOU!”
Marcus sat straight up in the bed, looking around and wondering where he was. The nightmare was over, but his heart was still pounding. He sat there for a moment, breathing hard, covered in sweat, trying to regain his composure. As he began to calm down he tried to come to grips with his nightmare. It seemed pretty obvious. But did he want to kill Randa? His cell phone rang before Marcus could answer his question.
“This is Marcus.”
“Hi, Mr. Douglas, this is Connie Talbert. I'm returning your call.”
“Good morning, Connie. How are you?”
“I'm doing just great, Mr. Douglas. How about yourself?” Connie asked.
“I'm okay,” Marcus lied not wanting to tell Connie he just dreamt of killing his wife. “I was calling to see if Mr. Ferguson had time to see me this afternoon about one?”
“That would be fine. He's in the office this afternoon and he'll look forward to seeing you at one.”
“Excellent. Then I'll see you at one,” Marcus said and hung up the phone.
He gave some thought to whether he was blind-siding Ferguson by not mentioning that he was coming with Carmen. Not that it should matter, he of all people, should want to know who killed his wife. All the same, Marcus was interested to see how he'd react. Because when you get right down to it, he didn't know whether Ferguson killed Desireé or not. He never even asked him. His job was to defend him of the charges and get him off. That was the dilemma Marcus faced as a defense attorney. “Guilty people are entitled to a defense, too,” he'd always say.
The phone rang again. “This is Marcus.”
“Good morning, Marcus,” Janise said. “I hope you don't mind, but Connie Talbert called and said you wanted to see Ferguson this afternoon. Said she tried you at home and didn't get an answer. So I gave her your cell phone number.”
“Yeah, that was fine, Janise. She just called me.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm at the Residence Inn.”
“Why, Marcus?”
“Just wanted to get away from the phone. It was ringing off the hook,” Marcus lied.
“It wouldn't have anything to do with Randa, would it? The only reason I ask is that she called for you first thing this morning.”
“It has nothing to do with Randa,” Marcus lied again. “Which reminds me; is Ms. Tiffanie Powers, Attorney At Law, in this morning.”
“Yes she is. You wanna speak to her?”
“No, just tell her she's fired.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell her that her services are no longer required. Turn all her work over to Simon.”
“Are you serious? You're firing Tiffanie.”
“I haven't decided yet.”
“Now I know your lying. This is about Randa.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because when I told her that you weren't in, she asked to speak to Tiffanie.”
“Nevermind, Janise. I'll handle it myself.”
“You're the boss.” Janise laughed. “Enjoy your vacation.”
“Bye, Janise.”
Marcus got up and laid out a suit to wear. He paused a moment to think about what Carmen would be wearing. And how she'd look in it. He could think of worse ways to spend his vacation. Marcus smiled and headed for the shower. If he was going to be there for a while he would have to stop at the house to pick up some more clothes. He stopped in his tracks.
No. I'm not gonna hide from Randa. I need to face her. Get it over with. She would keep coming until I do. I'm going home.
Marcus shaved, showered, and got dressed. He packed
up his suitcase and checked out of the room. On the way to the Marriott he thought about what Garrett said. Model or not she was just people, no better no worse. In spite of his nervousness, Marcus had enjoyed being with her the night before.
Would she even be interested in a guy like me? Maybe if I just relaxed, maybe she'd take more than a professional interest in me. Nah, she probably doesn't even date Black men.
Marcus arrived at the Marriott at five minutes until noon to pick up Carmen. He went into the lobby, heading for the desk. Much to his surprise, sitting in the lobby waiting patiently was Carmen, and she looked incredible.
Carmen woke up at six, just as she did every morning. Before too long she was dressed in sweats and heading for the hotel gym and the tread mill. Two and a half miles later she returned to her room. Carmen called room service to order breakfast, a cup of coffee, and half a grapefruit. While she ate she flipped through the paper, only to find herself on page three. It was a picture of her standing next to Izella Hawkins.
The caption read; Assistant District Attorney Hawkins promises justice in the Ferguson case.
Once she was finished eating Carmen gave some thought to what she would wear. She wanted to be stunning, without being over dressed. She wanted to look her best when she confronted Roland. Carmen wasn't entirely convinced of his innocence. And she wanted to look her best for Marcus. She wasn't about to pretend that she didn't find him attractive.
Maybe if he wasn't so stiff, Marcus might be a welcome change.
Carmen shrugged it off and paddled her way to the shower, dressed and headed for the lobby.
When she saw him coming, Carmen stood up and started walking toward him. She was wearing a red Douglas Hobbs dress that complemented her features.
“Good morning, Marcus.”
“Good morning, Carmen. I hope you haven't been waiting long?”
“No I had just sat down.”
“You look magnificent, Carmen,” Marcus commented enthusiastically as he walked along side of her.
“Thank you, Marcus. I was only trying to look stunning.” Carmen shook out her hair and laughed. She smiled at Marcus. Marcus wanted to say something clever, but he was too caught up in her smile to think of anything. So he just smiled back at her.
A high rise office on Auburn Avenue was the home Atlanta life Insurance. As always, traffic on the downtown connector was terrible, so Marcus and Carmen arrived late. Once they made it to the office, Carmen picked up a copy of Essence and made herself comfortable on the sofa. Marcus walked over to the desk and was greeted by the receptionist.
