by Roy Glenn
Maybe I just need to forgive Randa and move on.
Listening to Marcus talk, Carmen knew he had passion. She felt it coming from him. For her part, Carmen let her guard down too. But she carefully stared the conversation away from Desireé or her family.
“So you're workaholic, huh? So what do you like to do?” Marcus asked.
“Work.”
“Sensible answer, but it really doesn't speak to the question. So, I'll rephrase it. When you are not working, what does Carmen enjoy? Or is your life consumed with being Carmen Taylor the model?”
“Okay, since you put it that way, my favorite color is black; my favorite food is shrimp, favorite dessert is cherry cheesecake. I enjoy reading the most. Going to the movies is a close second. I'm a romantic to the bone. I love being surrounded by candles and incense. I love taking long walks to nowhere in particular. I'm a sucker for interesting conversations, and I love going to plays. I also absolutely love the ballet, but I haven't been in quite a while. Is that a better answer?”
After dinner, they went upstairs to the lounge to listen the Mose Davis Trio. The remainder of the evening was filled with music, cocktails, and lots of laughter and good conversation. Marcus found Carmen to be quite funny. Carmen still thought he was a little stiff, but she liked him. After years of dating fakes and flakes, Marcus was real people. And that to her was a good start. He eased his arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. Marcus glanced down at Carmen, and couldn't think of a better way to start his vacation.
When Marcus and Carmen left the plaza, they walked slowly back to the car. Talking and laughing, Carmen even gave Marcus a playful shove when he told her how bad her Stevie impression was. Marcus fought the urge to slide his hand into hers when it brushed up against his.
“I'm not ready to go back to the room yet. I'm having too good a time,” Carmen said.
“What do you want to do?”
“You know what I else I haven't done in years, Marcus?”
“What's that, Carmen?”
“I haven't been dancing in years.”
“Neither have I.”
“Can you dance, Marcus?”
“I used to go dancing all the time back in the day. At least five nights a week. I closed plenty of spots those days.”
“Really?” Carmen asked, not bothering to hide her disbelief.
“Yes really.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe, Marcus. I just can't picture you being a club king and dancing the night away.”
“You'll see. I may not have been in a professional dance company, like some people, but I used to dance my ass off. You see I haven't got any left,” Marcus joked and Carmen laughed.
“I don't know, Marcus. I think you got a little ass. Emphasis on the word little,” Carmen said with a smile as she got in the car. “But what's there is cute.”
“Anyway,” Marcus said and closed the door. Once they were in the car and away, he asked, “What kinds of music do you like?”
“I don't care, you pick some place. I chose the restaurant.”
“Do you like Reggae?”
“Me like Reggae music, Mon,” Carmen replied, knowing that her West Indian accent was much better than her Stevie impression. “It make me won dance all night, ya know.”
“Good. I know a place,” Marcus said and drove Carmen to Dan Starks in Decatur and danced until they could hardly stand up. After which he took Carmen back to her hotel and saw her safely to her room.
“Good night, Marcus.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I enjoyed our day together.”
“I did, too. We'll have to do more of this.”
“I'm sure we will.” Carmen kissed him on the other cheek. “I'll call you tomorrow.”
Marcus watched, almost breathlessly, as Carmen unlocked her door and disappeared inside. He left there hoping that it was more than just a friendly kiss.
OLD LOVES
Although it was well past three in the morning when she kissed Marcus good night, Carmen was up at seven to begin her daily routine. While she put in her time on the tread mill, Carmen thought about her agenda for the day, and a lot about Marcus. When she got back to her room, Carmen picked up the remote and flipped on the television. She called room service to order breakfast. While she ate, Carmen watched the local news to catch the day’s weather report. It was over cast outside and it looked like it was going to rain.
The lead story was about the death of a FTC investigator, John Heard. He was found by his wife at his desk in his home office. His death was ruled a suicide after ingesting sleeping pills and vodka.
Maybe he found out something about his wife, too, Carmen thought.
She gave some thought to what Marcus had said about Frank and Suzanne Collins deaths being just what the police considered it, rough sex gone terribly wrong. Maybe she was looking for something that simply wasn't there. She would have to come to grips with the idea that exploring her sister’s lifestyle may be the only thing that would lead her and Marcus to the killer.
And what if it does lead me to the killer, what I'm I going to do then?
Carmen turned off the television and got in the shower.
First thing on her list was to call Roland to see if he still had Desireé's things. “Ferguson residence,” Melissa, the house keeper answered.
“Good morning, Melissa, this is Carmen Taylor. How are you?”
“I'm fine, Ms. Taylor. Mr. Ferguson said you were in town. Hold on a minute, he's right here,” she said and handed the phone to Roland.
“Good morning, Carmen. You just caught me walking out the door. I was on my way to the club.”
“Well, I don't want to keep you. I had a question, a request really.”
“What is it, Carmen?”
“This may sound like a strange request, but I was wondering if you still had any of my sister’s things?”
“I still have all her things. I just couldn't bring myself to go through them. Why do you ask?”
“I've been really feeling Dez since we talked yesterday, and I thought it might, you know.”
“You thought it might make you feel closer to Desireé. Carmen, I understand completely. You are more than welcome to come here anytime. Like I said, I'm on my way out, but I'll tell Melissa to let you have the run of the house.”
“Thank you, Roland, this really means a lot to me. There's one more thing. I was thinking about making a pictorial memorial to her, and I'd appreciate your input.”
“Of course, Carmen, I'd be honored, but I really do have to run. If you're still here around four, we can have dinner together and talk about it.”
“I was going to my parents tonight,” Carmen lied. “But we'll get together soon.”
With that out of the way, Carmen devoted her attention to finding Porsche Temple. To accomplish this she would have to find Denny Barnes. If anybody could find Porsche, it was Denny. He was her first real boyfriend, her first love. They met one afternoon while shopping at The Underground with her mother. Denny saw Carmen and tried to approach her, but Dominique ran him off. So Denny followed Carmen until she was out of her mother’s site and he slipped her his number. Carmen called him as soon as she got home. They were so very different. Carmen, a straight A student. Denny never went to school. Denny was well on his way to being a weed smoking, gun toting thug. He showed her a side of life she'd only heard about. He was a member of a gang, he smoked, he drank, but in spite of what Denny was, he was in love with Carmen, and she loved him.
When it began, Carmen saw it as a way to rebel against her mother’s control. Dominique despised Denny and all he represented. Denny was exactly the type of boy she'd tried to keep her daughters away from. They went together from tenth grade until Carmen dropped out of Spellman and moved to New York. Now, seeing Denny Boo, as she called him was always interesting.
Finding Denny would be easy. It was just a simple matter of calling his mother and asking. Mrs. Barnes had become a second mother during the years when Carmen's
relationship with Dominique was strained. Carmen dialed the number, amazed that she still remembered it after all these years.
“Good Morning.” Mrs. Barnes answered.
“Good Morning, Mrs. Barnes, this is Carmen. How are you?”
“I could complain, Carmen, but ain't nobody wanna hear about my bad back. They just wanna tell me about their arthritis.”
“Well, now that you mention it,” Carmen said in a frail sounding voice. “My arthritis has been giving me trouble here lately.”
“Stop it, girl. You still crazy. How you been, Carmen.”
“Well my big toe swell up this morning, so I know its gon' rain today,” Carmen laughed. “Let me stop before you hang up on me.”
“And you know I will if you get to acting silly.”
“I'm doing fine, Mrs. Barnes, but is your back really hurting you?”
“No more than it did yesterday and no more than it did the day before that. But it's nice of you to ask, and it's so nice of you to call. Are you in town?”
“Yes Mrs. Barnes, I got in on Tuesday.”
“Well you make sure that you stop by here before you run out of town.”
“Actually, I was thinking about staying a while. But I'll try to get by there this week, but I need a favor.”
“Denny's new cell phone number is 678 555-7543. That is what you wanted, ain't it?”
“You know me too well, Mrs. Barnes.”
“Well if you do move back here, maybe you could talk Denny into getting a real job.”
“Still living that thug life, huh?”
“How they say it, he thugged out.”
“I'll try, Mrs. Barnes, but you know Denny don't listen to nobody but Denny.”
“You just talk to him, he'll listen to you. Now let me go, Carmen. My show fixin' to come on. You come see me now.”
“Maybe I'll get Denny to bring me by on Sunday for dinner.”
“That'll be the day.”
“Bye, Mrs. Barnes,” Carmen said as she hung up. She dialed Denny's number. “Hello.” Denny answered.
“What's up, Denny Boo?”
“Ain't but one person call me Denny Boo. What's up, Carmen? You in town? Let me come scoop you up, take you to lunch?”
“Which question you want me to answer?”
“All of them!”
“Well, let me see,” Carmen paused. “I'm fine. Yes, I'm in town, staying at the airport Marriott. And no, you can't come scoop me up.”
“Why not, Carmen?”
“I have a lot to do today.”
“You know you'd have a better time hanging out with me. Remember the last time you was here? We had a good time, right?”
“Yes, we did,” Carmen replied. “And I never did thank you for showing me such a good time. You were the perfect gentleman.”
“Gentleman? Only to you and don't tell nobody 'bout it either. It's bad for my rep.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, Denny Boo. But there's a price for my silence.”
“Anything you need.”
“I need to find Porsche Temple. Do you know where to find her?”
“What you want with that skank trick?” Denny asked.
“I'm trying to talk with some of Dez's friends.”
“Yo, Carmen, I never did say how sorry I was about Dez. The way you bounced in for the funeral and out of town, didn't hardly nobody have a chance to say anything to you. But I understood that, you and Dez was tight. I know you were trippin'. And knowing you, you probably tried to bury yourself in work.”
“That's exactly right.”
“Do I still know my Baby Carm, or what?”
“So do you know where to find her, Denny Boo?”
“She was tricking for this guy named James Martin.”
“Porsche's a prostitute?” Carmen asked in shock.
“Can't everybody be a big time model or marry no rich man, like you and Dez. But she was a high price hoe, if that makes a difference. She was doing a little running, too.”
“Running?”
“Drug running, Carmen. Once a month her and Martin used to drive to Miami, pick up their shit and come back. But all that ended when Martin got killed in a carjacking. I ain't seen Porsche in a while. Let me see if any of these niggas know where to find her. Hold on, Carmen.”
Carmen held on thinking about Porsche running drugs and being prostitute. Denny returned to the phone.
“Nobody knows where she lives. But you can find her at either Goosebumps or Pleasers. She got girls shake dancing at both them spots.”
“So she's not a drug runnin' prostitute any more, now she's a pimp.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Denny said. “When I'ma get to see you?”
“When was the last time you had Sunday dinner with your mother?”
“I couldn't tell you the last time. Why?”
“Because you're gonna take me there. I promised her that I would come and see her.”
“No can do, Carm. Going to DC for a few days.”
“I'll let you off this time. But call me when you get back. Maybe I'll let you come scoop me up and feed me when you get back.”
“A'ight.”
And with that, Denny hung up. Carmen took a deep breath and proceeded to get ready to go to Roland's house. She grabbed the biggest purse she had, and was out the door. When she arrived at Roland's house, a cold chill came over Carmen as she drove up the long driveway to the house. She thought she saw Desireé standing in the doorway, waving as she did on Carmen's visits to the house. As she got closer, Carmen could see that it was Melissa, the housekeeper, she had been with Roland for fifteen years. Melissa was a Black woman, forty-six years old, but you couldn't tell it by looking at her. She looked like a woman in her late twenties—early thirties, maybe, but that was stretching it.
When they were first married, Desireé thought that there was something going on between them. But in time she told Carmen that nothing could be farther from the truth. Carmen got out of her car and walked toward the house as the rain began to fall. Melissa gave Carmen a little hug and rushed her in the house and out of the rain. After chastising Carmen for not having an umbrella or anything to cover her head, Melissa showed her to Desireé's room. Carmen walked into the room and was taken immediately at how much the room looked like Desireé's room at their parent’s house. She stopped and looked around.
“This is their bedroom?”
“No, Ms. Taylor. Mrs. Ferguson preferred to sleep alone sometimes, and besides,” Melissa said as she walked to the closet and opened it. “She needed the closet space.” Melissa walked up to Carmen and stopped right in front of her. Closer than Carmen was comfortable with. Melissa smiled at her in a way that made Carmen uncomfortable. “Make yourself comfortable, stay as long as you want. If you need me just use the intercom,” she said pointing to the device on the wall. “Will you still be here at four, Ms. Taylor? I'm preparing Uccelli Scappati for Mr. Ferguson. He was hoping you would join him.”
“No, I'll probably just be here an hour,” Carmen replied, as Melissa started to leave the room. “By the way, what is Uccelli Scappati?”
“It's broiled veal and bacon on a skewer with a pinch of rosemary, served with gravy.” Melissa answered as she left Carmen alone.
“Oh, with a pinch of rosemary,” Carmen said with attitude. “Like I should know what Uccelli Scappati is,” she said shaking her head and locking the bedroom door. Carmen walked into her sister’s closet. It was like looking at the rack at Saks Fifth Avenue. She came out of the closet and sat down on the bed. That's when she saw them.
Standing on the dresser was three framed pictures, each of her and Desireé. The first was of them at the pool in the back yard. Carmen remembered that after the picture was taken, Desireé pushed her in the deep end and she almost drowned. The second was taken before they went to their first debutante ball. The night of her first kiss. Her eyes began to water as Carmen picked up the third picture. It was taken on her last trip to Atlanta. That was the last
time Carmen saw Desireé.
She cried.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought, wiping the tears from her eyes. I need to find what I'm looking for and get out of here.
Carmen opened the dresser drawer and went through it. In the back of the bottom drawer Carmen found a stack of letters Desireé had banded together. She put them in her bag and moved on to the desk in the corner of the room by the French doors.
Carmen opened the door so she could hear the rain come down while she waited for the computer to boot up. She liked listening to the Rain; it made her feel at peace with herself, and she needed peace as she rifled though the desk drawers. Carmen found Desireé's phone book and flipped through it, before putting it in her bag. When the computer prompted her for a password, Carmen slumped down in the chair. She tried Desireé's birthday, that didn't work. Since their old address was her password, she tried that, no joy.
Come on, Dez, what's your password?
Carmen sat back and sat up just as quickly. Carmen typed m e r c e d e s, on the keyboard.
Thanks Dez. You wouldn't wanna tell me who killed you?
Carmen rambled through the desk again until she found some blank disks. Carmen logged into Desireé's email and forwarded all the mail in her inbox and sent mail to herself. She would read them all later. She looked at the last ten files Desireé had opened. They were all word documents. Carmen put the disk in the computer, and began copying the files in her document folder. Then opened the first document. It was a letter to Roland. Telling him that she was going to meet India to see a play and have drinks, and that she would be home after one. Carmen checked the files properties; it was created, modified, accessed, and printed two days before Desireé was murdered. Then Carmen noticed a file named, Hi big Sis.doc. She opened it.
It read;
FROM INSIDE THE SOUL OF DESIREÉ TAYLOR FERGUSON
Hi big Sis,
I bet you're surprised to be reading a letter from Desireé Marie Taylor, when you talk to her every day, but I wanted to tell you about some things that have been on my mind, things I don't get a chance to say or can't say because I'm not always alone when we talk. Especially since you're in Europe and we talk at such weird hours. But the main thing I want to tell you is that I miss you. I understand why you live where you live. Your mother is a trip, but I miss my best friend, the only real friend I ever had. Everybody around me is so phony to the point that they make me fell phony. I don't love and my so called friends just use me for money and my body. But you know there's nothing new or unusual about that.
