by Roy Glenn
“I love you, Paven.”
“I love you, too, Garrett. That's why I have to go,” Paven said and walked out the house. Garrett followed her out to the car.
“Can I at least call you?”
“Of course you can call me, Garrett. I expect you to call. Your children are there. I would be very disappointed in you if you didn't call and talk to your children. I need to know that you want to be a part of your children's lives.”
“Do you have any money?”
“I'll be alright.”
“No,” Garrett said reaching in his pocket. “I ain't gonna have my family freeloading on nobody.” Without bothering to count it, Garrett handed Paven all the money he had on him. “That should hold you a while. Should be about three hundred there. I'll bring you some more tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Garrett.”
“For what?”
“For not making this ugly.”
Paven got in the car and drove away. Leaving Garrett standing alone in the driveway wondering how he ever let things go that far.
Garrett got up from the couch and walked over it the bar. “Mind if I fix myself a drink, Marcus?” Garrett asked while he poured.
“Go ahead.”
“You want one?”
“Make it a double,” Marcus said. “I'm sorry to hear about you and Paven, Garrett. What are you gonna do now?”
“I'ma drink your Henny, that's what I'ma do,” Garrett said handing Marcus his drink.
“I mean about Paven?”
“Look, Marcus, Paven's gonna do what she's gonna do. I can't change who I am or what I do. I love my baby and I want her to come home, but this is something she's gotta work out for herself.”
“That's a pretty enlightened attitude for a brother.”
“Yeah, sounds like I been watching that got-damn meddling ass Oprah Winfrey, too, don't it?”
“You a trip. But you know Paven is right. You're always working, so you're never home. I've never seen you take a vacation and go anywhere. Women need attention.”
“Didn't nobody pay a woman more attention then you paid Randa and look how that turned out.” Marcus looked at Garrett and didn't say anything. “Sorry, Marcus. I shouldn't have said that.”
“You're right, you shouldn't have. But, shit, you're right. Ain't no denying that.”
“I think you paid her too much attention. And you didn't give her enough to do. Shoulda pumped some babies into her.”
“Like them four you pumped in Paven?”
“Touché,” Garrett said as he raised his glass and drained it. “You want another?”
“No, still working on the first one.”
“Well man up,” Garrett said standing in front of him, waiting for his glass. Marcus drained his glass and handed it to Garrett. “Thank you. On second thought, get dressed. Let’s get the fuck up outta here.”
“And go where?”
“Let's go watch some girls.”
“Did that already today,” Marcus replied as he got up and went in his bedroom to get dressed.
“Where'd you go?” Garrett yelled while he poured the drinks in plastic cups.
“Pleasers and Goosebumps.” Marcus yelled back.
“Who'd you go there with?”
“Carmen,” Marcus said as he came out the room.
“Playa, if that ain't the stupidest thing I ever heard, I don't know what is.”
“What do you mean?”
“You took the finest mutha fucka in town to a tittie bar,” Garrett paused. “She ain't no lesbian, is she?”
“No, and I quote, That ain't my type of bump and grind, unquote.”
“I feel better just knowing that. Now, why did you take her to a tittie bar?”
“I know you've been tied up with your other case. And now with you and Paven having problems, your time is gonna be even more limited. So we've been doing a little investigating on our own.”
“I thought we agreed to leave the investigating to me?”
“Garrett, if Carmen Taylor asked you to go with her to a strip club so she could talk to a friend of her sisters, what would you say?”
“I'd say; you want me to drive?”
“I rest my case,” Marcus said as they walked out to the car. While Marcus drove, he brought Garrett up to speed on what little progress they had made on the case. “Did you find anything out about Damali?”
“Not really. He's a real mystery man. Nobody knows anything about him. Desireé was paying for the apartment he was staying in. Neighbors say he was quiet and kept to himself, like they always do. The car he was driving was stolen in Texas, but the Texas police don't have anything on him. No match on his finger prints.”
“Who identified the body?”
“Ferguson. When he identified his wife's body, the cops asked him to identify the other body.”
“What about their relationship?”
“Another big zero. Nobody knows anything about them. Where she met him, where they went together. Other than Roland's testimony at the trial, nobody even knows how long they'd known each other.”
“I really appreciate you for what you're doing. I know you've already got a full plate.”
“What you want me to do, Marcus?”
“First chance you get, take a run at Porsche Temple. I'll call you tomorrow with a phone number for her. Or, we might just catch her at Goosebumps.”
“She dance there?”
“No. Dig this. She got three girls dancing for her. Two at Pleasers, and one at Goosebumps.”
“So this Porsche Temple mackin' these girls?” Garrett shook his head and smiled. “What kind of freak shit you got yourself into, Marcus?”
Marcus looked over at Garrett, shrugged his shoulders, and started laughing.
“I may have to free up a little more time for you on this one.”
LET'S BE FRIENDS
By eight-fifteen, Carmen was packed and on her way to check out of her room. On the way to her new apartment, she stopped by a grocery store to pick up some cleaning supplies, shelf liners, and a pair of rubber gloves. While she walked back to her car, Carmen noticed a Sprint store and decided she was coming back when she was finished cleaning to pick up a cell phone. When she arrived at the apartment, Carmen got the key and got busy cleaning. Once the apartment was cleaned to her satisfaction, Carmen laid the shelf liners in the dresser drawers and unpacked her clothes. Now that she was settled in, Carmen sat down on the bed and looked around the room.
She glanced over at the dresser and began to think about the three pictures that Desireé had on her dresser of the two of them. She decided to ask Roland if she could have them. Carmen showered, dressed, and headed to the Sprint store and twenty minutes later, she walked out with a new phone. Once the phone was activated, she called Roland. Naturally Roland said yes to her request for the pictures. He told Carmen that he felt it was time that somebody went through Desireé's things, and asked Carmen if she would do it because he still didn't feel up to it. Carmen told Roland that she would come by later that morning with Dominique. Then she called Dominique and asked if she wanted to come with her. She excitedly accepted the invitation.
After two hours of sorting through and organizing Desireé's things, both mother and daughter had burned out. They agreed to come back another day to finish. They told Roland that they were leaving and settled on a day to come back and complete the task. Roland thanked them for coming and walked them to the door. When she got outside, Carmen saw that her car was gone.
“What happened to my car?” she asked.
“I had Connie send somebody by to return it, Carmen,” Roland replied and handed her a set of car keys. “Those are the keys to Desireé's car,” he said pointing to the gold Mercedes parked where her car was. “You can drive that while you're here.”
“I can't take these Roland,” Carmen said while she tried to hand Roland back the keys. Dominique elbowed her in the side and gave her a look.
“Please, Carmen, there's no point
in you spending money on a rental, especially if you plan on being here for a while. You can drive it for as long as you're here, or until you get something else.”
Carmen reluctantly accepted the keys and drove Dominique home.
“When somebody offers you the keys to a Mercedes, Carmen, you say, thank you.”
“I just feel kinda funny driving her car.”
“Do you feel funny about taking her pictures?”
“No. But that's different.”
“What's the difference?”
“Those are pictures, this is a car.”
“Only difference is dollar value, Carmen. They both belonged to your sister. If there's something you want, you should take it.”
“I would feel too weird wearing her clothes.”
“I agree,” Dominique said. “We should donate all of it to the church charity. But I don't think we need to donate all of Desireé's jewelry to Reverend Fredrickson's wife. “
“Or his girlfriend,” Carmen threw in. “Okay, I'll keep the car. Because to be honest with you, this bad boy does drive really smooth.”
“See, I did teach you common sense,” Dominique smiled at Carmen.
“Anyway. Thank you for coming with me, Dominique. I don't think I could have done it by myself.”
“Thank you for asking me. I asked Roland if he wanted me to do it after the funeral, but he refused. He got a little hostile about it.”
“I guess he wasn't ready to let go.”
“At the time, I thought that he was trying to hide something,” Dominique said and Carmen thought about the deleted word in the letter Desireé was writing her.
On her way back to her apartment, Carmen left another message for India, the woman that Desireé had gone out with the night before her murder, and left her cell phone number. It was getting late in the afternoon and it was looking like rain. Carmen still needed to shop if she planned to cook dinner for Marcus.
As she wandered around the grocery store picking up things she needed for the apartment, Carmen gave some thought to what she was going to cook. Something French so he'll know that I have mad cooking skills. Carmen had the butcher pick out a good size boneless pot roast, and asked him to slice four thin pieces of salt pork. Then she went down the produce aisle to pick up onions, carrots, bay leaf, thyme, and two potatoes. All she needed now was a can of tomato paste, and on to the checkout line. Then she went by the liquor store to get a bottle of red wine to serve with dinner, Côtes du Rhône, and a domestic Cabernet to cook with. Carmen also picked a bottle of Bacardi for the house and a bottle of Hennessy for Marcus.
When she got back to the house it was almost four o'clock. If she wanted the roast to be done by seven, she would have to get started. She changed into a pair of shorts and a big tee shirt and got busy in the kitchen. Carmen found the sharpest knife she could find and cut the potatoes into slices. Then she cut two carrots into one-inch pieces, and sliced two onions. With that done, Carmen looked for a big heavy pot and lined the bottom of the pot with the salt pork. She arranged the carrots, onions, threw in a pinch of thyme and one bay leaf over the salt pork, and placed the pot roast in the bed of vegetables. Carmen poured in two cups of the Cabernet, added a little salt and pepper, and covered the pot. Once it came to a slow broil, Carmen turned down the gas and left it to simmer for the next three hours.
With time on her hands before Marcus arrived, Carmen decided to set up her laptop in the den and read some more of the documents she'd downloaded from Desireé's computer. The first document she read was another letter that Desireé had written to her. Only this one was dated two years before she died.
FROM INSIDE THE SOUL OF DESIREÉ TAYLOR FERGUSON
Dear big Sis,
I don't know why I keep writing you these letters, seeing that I never mail any of them. That may have something to do with the fact that I never finish any of them. I may actually finish one, one day. But I wonder sometimes why you continue to write me, knowing that I never write you. But I'm glad you do write me. Getting letters and post cards from you from all over the world makes me feel like I'm right there with you. Now I know you're thinking, there goes Desireé, biting on my life again. Didn't she grow out of that years ago? Well, believe me I have, but the fact of the matter is, I would gladly trade my life for yours. But that would mean that you would have to have this life, and I wouldn't wish this life of lies I lead on anyone.
Today I contemplated suicide. DON'T CALL THE AIRLINE; I would never actually do it. I'm too much of a coward to take my own life. But now I think I understand why so many people consider it, and why some do it. I know you'll say, Dez, think about all the things you have to live for. Your friends and your family. You have everything you ever dreamed of, why do you want to die? Because I am not happy with my life. It is filled with disappointment and pain, because I don't have any control of it. So today I asked myself what was the point of life, if you can't live it the way you want to. And if I'm not living my life the way I want to, is that really living? I'm not really living; I'm just existing from day to day, waiting to die. So if that existence will only be filled with more disappointment and pain, then why wait to die. Bearing that pain, day after endless day, waiting to die. Why not die now, saving myself years of pain.
I thought that marrying rich was the answer to all my prayers, but it’s not. Maybe what I really wanted, all I ever dreamed of, was to be loved. I know Roland loves me, but I don't love him. I want to be loved by the person that I love. So I seek love in the arms of others like Robert, who only wants to use me, and never find the love I seek.
With her eyes welling up with tears, Carmen fanatically opened another document, looking for more letters to her. She opened document after document, looking for the words Hi big Sis, until the phone rang. Carmen composed herself enough to answer.
“Hello,” she said, still wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Carmen?”
“Yes.”
“This is India Carter; I'm returning your call.”
“Yes, India, thank you for calling me back. I'm Desireé Ferguson's sister.”
“I know who you are. Dez talked about you all the time. I've always wanted to meet you. But Dez could never get us together when you were in town. And now here you are calling me.”
“I was calling to see if you would talk to me about my sister.”
“I'd be glad to. When can we get together?”
“Anytime that's good for you.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I've rented an apartment on St Charles off of North Highland.”
“Really. Well, I'm not too far from there; I'm in Little Five Points. I could be there in ten minutes.”
Carmen looked at her watch; she had plenty of time before Marcus arrived for dinner.
“That's fine, India. I'm cooking dinner for a friend tonight, so we can talk while I get things ready.”
“See you in a few,” India said and hung up the phone.
Carmen turned off her laptop and prepared to greet India. She thought about changing into something a little more presentable, but she just wasn't feeling it. Carmen was still quite shaken by Desireé's letter. With each word, she felt her pain.
Why didn't you tell me little girl? I would have been there for you if I knew you were in that much pain.
As promised, India rang the doorbell in exactly ten minutes. Carmen opened the door for India. She was a tall, dark skinned woman, dressed in white shorts and a white nylon blouse. It was obvious to Carmen that she wasn't wearing a bra, as she could see her dark erect nipples pressing against the nylon.
“Carmen?”
“India, Please come in.” Carmen led India into the living room. “Please have a seat and thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me.”
“Thank you, Carmen. And it's no trouble at all,” India said as she sat down on the couch and crossed her legs. “Like I said, I always wanted to meet you. I would have preferred to meet you in a more social setting, but this
is fine. I like what you've done with this apartment.”
“Actually, it’s a furnished apartment; it was like this when I got here. I just moved in today. I don't like living out of a suitcase, so I got this place until I find something more permanent.”
“So, what can I tell you about Desireé?” India asked.
“How long did you know Dez?”
“We'd known each other for three years when it happened.”
“Were you two very close?”
“I'd say we were,” India said and smiled. “I thought Desireé told you about me?”
“No, I'm sorry, Dez never mentioned you to me.”
“Really, I was sure she had.” Carmen could see a little hurt in India's eyes when she told her that. “Well, even though she didn't tell you, we were very close.”
“I know she had planned to meet you the night before she was murdered.”
“You mean before Roland killed her,” India said.
“How do you know Roland killed her?”
“Who else would have?”
“That's what I'm trying to find out. Did you meet her that night?”
“I did. We had dinner at The Food Studio. Then we went to the Alliance Theater to see a play. I can't remember the name of it, it was terrible. We had drinks at Justin's and then we went back to my place to,” India smiled at Carmen. “To talk.”
“You were one of the last people to talk to her then?”
“Yes, I suppose I was.”
“Was she upset or did she say anything that was unusual?”
“No. Desireé was her usual vibrant self. And even if something was bothering Desireé, she would never let on. That's just how she was. She always wanted everyone around her to be happy. And Desireé had a way of making people feel good,” India said and put her hand on Carmen's thigh. Carmen gave India a look and she moved her hand away, but only after she allowed it to linger across Carmen's skin. “You really don't know anything about Desireé do you, Carmen? Desireé and I were lovers.”
Carmen's eyes were now wide open, along with her mouth, which she quickly closed.
