by Roy Glenn
Marcus tried to call Carmen again, and once again got no answer. He wondered what it was that made Roland pull out at the last minute. Could Mondrya have known why he pulled out and not mentioned it? Why not ask her? Marcus thought as he left the library. He got out her card and dialed, “Mondrya Foster, please.”
“One moment, I'll connect you.”
“Mondrya Foster.”
“Ms. Foster, Marcus Douglas.”
“That didn't take you long, Marcus,” Mondrya said to him. “I've got somebody on the other line. Can you hold?”
“Sure.” While Marcus sat through the empty darkness that is hold, his mind wandered back to Carmen. Where was she and what was she doing?
“Marcus; thanks for holding. So, twice in one day. To what do I owe the honor?”
“I was wondering if you knew why Ferguson pulled out of the merger at the last minute.”
“That was a long time ago, Marcus. I was still an analyst then. High level information like that would have never filtered down to my level.”
“But you had to be one of the top analysts to get pulled into a project team like that.”
“You're right; I was one of the top analysts.”
“I know this was a long time ago, Mondrya, but try to remember, did any of the project team find anything that may have caused Ferguson to pull out?”
“I just don't remember, Marcus. And besides, Ferguson had his own team of analysts that he brought in to work with us. We used to call them the analyst analysts, because all they did was go over our work,” Mondrya laughed. “I haven't thought about that for a long time. It's funny how your mind works. Give me a day or two to see what else I can remember.”
“Why don't we get together for lunch on Tuesday to talk about it?”
“That sounds like a real plan to me. A very strategic and tactical plan, if I might add. And I should know, being a strategic and tactical planner.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You, my dear Marcus, are looking for an ally here. So you get me interested in what you're doing, without actually knowing what you're doing, and let my natural curiosity take over. You'll need to hear what I have to say, and I'm more likely to speak freely in a comfortable environment, away from the office. Where you'll ply me with good food and alcohol. I was a psychology major before I switched to finance.”
“Ms. Foster, you begin to interest me,” Marcus said.
“I'm sure my husband won't be as flattered by that as I am. But tell me something, Marcus?”
“What's that, Mondrya?”
“How do you know you can trust me?”
“Because, trust isn't the real issue here. If there is something going on, you’re telling somebody that I'm investigating this will draw whoever or whatever out of the closet.”
“Well, for reasons of my own, I'll meet you at eleven-thirty on Tuesday. On second thought, why don't you pick me up here and will go to O'Charley's on Crescent Centre.”
“I'll be there. I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Mondrya.”
“Something else my husband won't be flattered about. Good-bye, Marcus, we'll talk on Tuesday.”
Marcus dialed Carmen's number again and again got no answer. He started his car and drove out of the library parking lot. He thought for a minute about who would know why Ferguson pulled out and then dialed his phone.
“Connie Talbert.”
“Good afternoon, Connie. This is Marcus Douglas.”
“How are you, Mr. Douglas?”
“I was wondering how long you've worked as Mr. Ferguson’s assistant?”
“Eight-teen years this October.”
“Then you knew the first Mrs. Ferguson?”
“Yes, I did. But if you're thinking that Janet had something to do with this, forget it. Janet lives in Nairobi, happy as a clam to be where she is, with what she has. She did very well in the divorce.”
“Thanks, Connie, we were just kicking around some options,” Marcus lied. He knew where the first Mrs. Ferguson was and what she left with. As he drove, Marcus tried Carmen again. Still no joy. He hung up and dialed again, it was well past six in the evening. He hoped she hadn't gone for the day.
“Mondrya Foster.”
“Mondrya, it's Marcus again.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Marcus?”
“No, Mondrya, I'm not trying to tell you anything. Although you are a very beautiful woman, you're a very beautiful married woman. And I have nothing but respect for that. But I didn't call to flatter you, not this time. I was wondering if one of the analyst’s analyst was named Connie Talbert?”
“Yes, lord; she was the analyst analyst’s analyst. Always looking over everybody's work. She used to get on our nerves. Why, is that important?”
“Maybe, I'm just trying to get the whole picture. By the way, you guys don't' look cash strapped anymore, what happened?”
“A group of private investors came in and made a successful presentation to the board of directors.”
“Thanks, Mondrya.”
“So, I'll talk to you in about fifteen minutes?”
“Anything's possible, so I'm not ruling it out, Ms. Foster. But this time for sure, have a nice weekend.” Marcus parked the car and got out dialing the phone again.
IN THE LATE NIGHT
“Hello,” Carmen finally answered.
“Hello, Carmen. This is Marcus, how are you?”
“I'm fine, Marcus. I have got so much to tell you, and so much to show you.”
“I guess you had a good day?”
Carmen thought about the time she had just spent with her mother. “Yes, Marcus.” They hadn't heeled all their wounds, but they made a good start. “I had a good day.”
“Let me take you to dinner and we can talk about what made this day so great,” Marcus said, entering the elevator.
“I'm sorry, Marcus,” Carmen smiled. “I just came back from dinner. My mother and I ate at the Atlanta Grill. Have you eaten there yet?”
“No, I can't say that I have.”
“I'll have to take you there, the food was great.”
“I thought you were going to cook for me?”
“That's part of what I have to tell you. So if you're not too busy this evening, stop by. I have a lot to show you.”
“Okay, Carmen, I'll see you soon. I can just order something from room service,” Marcus said as he got off the elevator and started down the hall.
“Sounds good. I'll see you when you get here,” Carmen said hanging up the phone. She looked around the room. The bed was covered with the letters she had taken from Desireé's room. After reading each one, Carmen separated them into piles. She waved her hand at the bed and started for the bathroom, thinking that she would straighten up later. She was startled by a loud knock at the door.
“Who is it?”
“Marcus.” Carmen opened the door. “Did I take too long?”
“That was quick,” Carmen said smiling as she stepped aside to let Marcus in. Glad to see he has a playful side. “Come on in, Marcus.”
“I was down stairs when I called. I didn't wanna come up unannounced and uninvited. I've been calling you for a while now.”
“I just got here. I haven't had a chance to do anything.”
“I see this,” Marcus said standing over the bed. “I guess this is your spot?” he said pointing to the one blank spot on the bed. “What is all this, anyway?”
“These are the letters I found. Dez had them in the back of one of the bottom drawers in her room.” Marcus started to comment. “Before you ask, quote, Mrs. Ferguson preferred to sleep alone sometimes, unquote.”
“Roland?”
“Melissa, the housekeeper.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I read all of the letters; the big pile is letters and post cards I sent her. But before we get into what's in the rest of them, I want you to read a letter Dez had started to me on the day she was murdered,” Carmen said placing her laptop in fron
t of Marcus. Carmen opened Microsoft Word and opened Hi big sis.doc. Once the document was opened, Carmen looked on as Marcus read the unfinished letter without comment.
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. I know I'm just as surprised to be writing it. 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.
I need you Carmen. I need your strength. I need Carmen the sneak. There's so much I have to tell you, about me and about what's going on around here these days. I think somebody is
“Well,” Carmen asked.
“Very touching that she would write this to you or at least have started it, but I know that's not what you're talking about. A few things stand out and others just raise questions. I assume that you have the answers, which is why you wanted me to read this first.”
“Marcus,” Carmen said anxiously, wishing he'd get to the point.
“First off, it says Desireé Taylor Ferguson in the heading, but in the first line she's Desireé Marie Taylor. She seems unhappy with her life and she has been keeping things from you for various reasons. Carmen the sneak, jumped off the page at me.” Carmen smiled a shy smile. “I wish she would have finished that last sentence.”
“Doesn't it just scream, I think somebody is trying to kill me?”
“In retrospect, yes, but we have the benefit of knowing that she was murdered. But that's not the most interesting thing I see. This is not a complete sentence,” Marcus pointed at the screen.
“What's not?” Carmen asked and glanced at the screen. “Okay, so she didn't use perfect English. Loosen up a little, Marcus. I've been known to forget a modifier or two. And but, has started a lotta things for me,” Carmen smiled.
“I'll bet your butt has started some things, but that's not what I'm talking about.”
Marcus removed the check in the box which read; Hide Grammatical errors in this document, and clicked okay.
“See it now? See the green line. I don't love? It’s obvious that there are two spaces between those words. Like the name of who she doesn't love has been deleted. I think it screams I don't love Roland and Roland deleted it.”
“There's no way he could have, it had a password.”
“You got in, Carmen.”
“I guessed her password,” Carmen said, pushing out her chest with pride. Marcus blinked and inhaled deeply.
“That computer's been sitting there for a year. If he wanted to get in, a password wouldn't stop him. Carmen, your brother-in-law is a very resourceful man.”
“You're starting to think he did it, aren't you?” Carmen asked.
“Finish telling me about your day first. Then I'll tell you about mine. But getting back to that letter, Carmen, it does leave me with one big question.”
“Here it comes.”
“What's up with the, my so called friends just use me for money and my body. But you know there's nothing new or unusual about that. That's what I wanna hear about, girlfriend,” Marcus said smiling as he picked up the menu for room service. “Come on, give it up, Carmen.”
“Marcus, there was a whole lot that I didn't know about my sister. Well, I knew, but I didn't know how deep, until today. Remember I told you that I rebelled against my mother’s control by hanging out, getting high? Well, Dez had a different type of rebellion. Sex.”
“Sex.”
“Sex. While I was getting high to escape, Dez was having sex. I remember telling her that when I smoke weed I can't hear Mommy tripping and she looked at me and said; I know what you mean Carm, when I'm doing it and it’s good, I don't hear her tripping either. I couldn't have been more than sixteen and still a virgin then and here's my little sister telling me how good sex is.”
“Sex is escapism in its highest and most beautiful form.”
“So I've noticed,” Carmen said and rolled her eyes at Marcus. She pointed to one of the piles of letters on the bed. “Most of those letters and just about all of the email are sexually explicit. Poems, short stories,” Carmen paused. “Thank you notes.”
“Who are they from?”
“Most of them are from Robert Pettibone or they're poems that she wrote him. He was one of her toys. I found her phone book and I called him, but the number is disconnected. I saw two other names that I remembered, Axle Grant and Ira Stinson. I called both of them, but I didn't get an answer. Dez went out with somebody named India the night before she was murdered. I left a message for her.”
“Anything else?”
“I sent out that email. But now I'm afraid to read what I get back. I know where we can find Porsche Temple. So if you're going to order something, order it now, because we have some place to go tonight,” Carmen said and looked at Marcus. “That is if you don't already have something to do.”
“Where are we going, Carmen?”
“Porsche has girls dancing at two clubs; Pleasers and Goosebumps.”
“You want to go to Pleasers and Goosebumps? Do you know what kind of places those are?”
“They're strip clubs, I know. But that was the only thing I could find out about her.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, but it’s not business. So tell me about your day.”
“It’s no smoking gun but, I found a connection between Ferguson and Bill Hudson.”
“Bill Hudson of Hudson Financial?”
“Roland was involved in a merger with Hudson. But he pulled out of the deal at the last minute.”
“That sounds like it could be something.”
“Yeah, but it was in the late eighties, early nineties. I'll keep on it, see where it leads,” Marcus said as he put down the room service menu. “There's nothing on this I want.”
“Well what do you wanna eat?” Marcus looked at Carmen and smiled. “What?” Carmen asked.
“Nothing, Carmen,” Marcus laughed. “I don't know what I wanna eat. But if we're going strip club hopping, I wanna pass by the house and change my clothes.”
“Do you have any food at the house?”
“I got some hot dogs. I'll nuke a couple.”
“See, I was thinking about making you something quick while you changed clothes, but I guess you'll just have to wait until tomorrow. “
“What's happening tomorrow?”
“If you don't have any plans, I'm having a very small house warming party and I was going to cook for you.”
“House warming?”
“Yes, house warming. I really don't like living out of a suitcase. And I've been thinking seriously about moving back here. So I rented an apartment,” Carmen said looking at Marcus, who was smiling all over himself. “On a week to week basis for the time being.”
Week to week or not, Marcus was happy that she was thinking about staying. Right then and there he planned to give her as many reasons as he could to stay.
“Anything in particular got you thinking that way?”
“I'm tired of being alone, Marcus.”
When Marcus and Carmen arrived at Pleasures and took a seat, one of the dancers approached their table. She was thick, redbone, juicy red lips, wearing a black teddy over her wide hips. Marcus's eyes grew wide. She glanced at Carmen as she passed on her way around the table to Marcus. She stepped in between Marcus's legs and put her arms around his neck. Resting her healthy chest against him. “You wanna dance?” she whispered in his ear.
Marcus looked at Carmen out the corner of hi
s eye. “Not right now, but you make sure you come back,” Marcus said, reaching in his pocket for a dollar bill. Almost without looking, Marcus carefully folded then placed the bill in her garter. “And could you send us a waitress?”
“Sure, baby. My name is Peppermint,” she said and kissed Marcus on the cheek and moved on to the next table.
“I see you've been here before?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You weren't even looking when you put the dollar in her garter. And she was all over you like you were a regular customer or something.”
“Watch, Carmen. That's what all the women are doing. They'll go from table to table asking men if they want a table dance. Like he's doing.” Marcus pointed to the table next to theirs, where two dancers were removing their outfits to dance.
“Where's the ladies room?”
“What?” Marcus yelled, completely taken in by the dancer on stage. Not to mention the two that were dancing at the table next to him.
“I said, where's the ladies room? I guess I have to be naked to get your attention in here.”
Marcus looked at Carmen and then around the room. “That's not true. You are much better looking than any of these women. They have to walk around naked to compete with you. And even with your clothes on, a lot of these men are looking at you,” Marcus said and continued filling his eyes.
But it's your attention that I want. “Marcus! Where's the ladies room?”
“I don't think there is one, at least not that I've ever seen. Ask one of them,” Marcus said pointing in the direction of the dancers as they passed. Carmen got up and walked up to one of the dancers. “Excuse me, is there a bathroom I can use!”
The dancer led Carmen into the dressing room. Carmen felt comfortable in there. The women reminded her of models getting ready for a show. Which they are.
