by Kay Wyont
“You do know he’s just kidding, don’t you, Danny?”
“Seriously? I can’t believe I fell for that crap!”
Randy chuckled at his partner’s surprise. He couldn’t tell whether it was genuine surprise or feigned for Frank’s benefit, but it amused him either way. Frank grinned, obviously proud of himself.
“You three do know it’s pretty much impossible to carry on a conversation with all that whispering in the background, don’t you?” Chief Sanchez hung up the phone and glared at Randy. “I’m not too old to take you down a few notches, Monroe, so watch yourself!”
“You heard that?” Randy asked.
“Us old folks can still have great hearing, you know,” he replied. “Here’s the skinny on Carter. The bakery clerk died, so they’ve charged him with vehicular manslaughter. No vehicle problems found, and no drugs in Carter’s system. He should go on trial within the next few months.”
“Did your friend ask why you called?” Danny asked.
“I told him we’d seen something about it and were curious. He asked why, but I said it should be obvious since everybody knew they had good donuts, and we were wondering if our favorite bakery would reopen.”
Randy barked out a laugh. “And he believed that? You’d never have bought that line of bull.”
Sanchez shrugged. “He did. Don’t repeat this, but he’s not the brightest bulb in the package. At any rate, Carter isn’t really refuting the charges. Ryan mentioned that Carter doesn’t deny that he did it, but he also never gave a reason why he did it. Luckily, he wasn’t too badly hurt. He’s in the Bexar County Jail awaiting trial. Go talk to him and see what you can find out. I’ll call and set it up. And, be discreet. I think I said that before, but hopefully this time it sinks in. If you come back with a trail of prisoners wanting to help with our investigation, it won’t be pretty.”
“You’re never gonna forgive me for telling Frank, are you?”
“Oh, I’ve forgiven you, Randy. I already told you that. Letting you live it down is a whole other story.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Frank stood to go. “Let me know what you find out.”
“You’re not going with them, Frank?”
“Wish I could, but I’d better get back to work before they miss me,” he replied.
“Have you talked to your sergeant today?” Chief Sanchez asked.
Frank shook his head. “No, sir. I was on patrol when Veronica called, and I brought her info straight here. Why?”
“I called your sergeant and told him I was borrowing you for a week or two. That I needed someone with your special talents. You’re detailed to Randy until I say otherwise,” the chief explained.
“Really? That’s so cool,” Frank’s face blossomed with an irrepressible grin, and his chest puffed out a little. “What special talents did you tell him I had?”
“Youth and stupidity,” the chief said.
Frank’s confident air wilted. “With all due respect, sir, that’s kind of cruel.”
“Well, we all do what we have to, son,” the chief explained.
“I understand, but it’s going to be hard to go back with that hanging over my head.”
“Nah, he thinks I’m using you undercover at UTSA. Hence the youth and stupidity part.”
“Oh. Well, that makes me feel a little better. I think. Thanks, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Remember, you have to work with those two.” Chief Sanchez indicated Randy and Danny with a toss of his chin. “And good luck with that. You’re going to need it.”
“Old people sure do get cranky,” Danny said to Randy in a stage whisper.
The chief dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Get out of here and get to the jail. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. I’m done playing with you kids. I’ve got real work to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Danny replied, saluting.
“And watch your back while you’re there, Beckman. I have friends there, too. You may find yourself behind the bars instead of in front of them.” As Randy closed the door, he heard the chief chuckle and say, “Do not pass go. I make me laugh.” You make me laugh, too, Chief.
TEN
“I hate coming to this place,” Danny said as they walked up to the detention center.
“Why? Are you afraid they’ll keep you?” Randy asked. “This isn’t a mental institute, so you probably don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Very funny. Everybody looks so sad, which I’m sure they are, but it’s just depressing. And why is everyone in orange? Who picked out that color for the prisoners? They look like they’re ready for Halloween.”
“Orange does stand out in a crowd,” Randy replied as he opened the door. “Unless it’s hunting season and you’re with a bunch of other hunters. But an escaped convict is going to have a hard time evading capture in that getup. It might even glow in the dark.”
“I’m with Danny on this one,” Frank chimed in. “What was wrong with black and white stripes? You’d stand out like a sore thumb, unless you hid in a zebra cage at the zoo.”
“Yeah, but the stripes went the wrong way,” Randy explained. “They were horizontal, so it made the prisoners look fatter. Fat prisoners aren’t good for PR. Makes the public want to cut cafeteria funding. Of course, they could have just changed to vertical stripes, since they’re more slimming.”
“Aha! That explains it.”
“What are you talking about now, Beckman?”
“Why I never see you in horizontal stripes. You’re trying to camouflage your stomach.”
Frank choked back a laugh and feigned a coughing fit. Randy glared at him as he opened the door to the jail. “You’re not fooling anyone. Both of you try to behave while we’re here, please.”
“Yes, sir,” Danny murmured.
They explained their errand, and a guard escorted Randy, Danny, and Frank into a prisoner interview room, where two men waited on one side of a large, plain table. The younger man, likely in his early twenties, wore the bright orange uniform of an inmate, while the older man wore a suit and a scowl. Must be the lawyer, Randy thought.
“I don’t know why you want to talk to my client, but you’re not talking to him without me here.”
Randy smiled despite the man’s hostile tone. “And, what is your name, sir?”
“Harold Lawson. Who are you and why are there so many of you? I’ve instructed Lloyd to not answer any questions. You’re wasting your time.”
“I’m Detective Monroe, that is Detective Beckman, and that is Officer Jenkins. We just have a few questions for Mr. Carter.”
“I already said he won’t answer any,” the lawyer repeated.
“I’ll answer their questions, Mr. Lawson. I don’t mind,” Lloyd Carter said.
Lawson turned on Carter and scowled. “We’ve discussed this already, Lloyd. If you do, it’s against advice of counsel.”
“So you’ve said. Numerous times.” Carter gave a heavy sigh. “What can I do for you, detective?”
Lawson broke in, pointing a finger at Randy. “I don’t want you trying to trip up my client. If he chooses to go against counsel and talk to you, that’s his choice. But I’ll be listening very carefully, so watch what your step.”
Clearly, Lawson was irritated because his client wouldn’t listen to him. As much as Randy wanted to dismiss the cranky man, he knew he had to make nice in order to get what he wanted.
Randy sat and locked eyes with the counsel. “Mr. Lawson, we know you have a trial coming up, and we won’t do anything to jeopardize your client’s defense. You have my word on that. If you think I’m asking something inappropriate, please let me know and I’ll back off.”
Randy moved his focus to Carter. “We’re investigating an accident and there appears to be some similarity between that one and yours. If you don’t mind, Mr. Carter, would you tell us what happened? And, please, don’t tell us anything you haven’t already told the other investigating officers. I don’t want you to in
advertently incriminate yourself.”
Lawson’s irritated expression melted into one of curiosity at the mention of a second accident. “It’s all in the record, Detective Monroe. Why do you need to talk to him?”
“The report was from the Alamo Heights PD and we’re SAPD. I’d like to hear it for myself, if that’s all right.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Carter replied.
“Whatever you can remember will be fine. And please, call me Randy.”
“Yes, sir.” Carter took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself, then dove in. “Pastry Palace makes the best cinnamon swirl bread. My mom loves it, too, so I was going to pick up a loaf and surprise her. I surprised her, all right. Just not the way I planned.”
“What happened?”
“I remember pulling into the parking lot. I was driving down the second row of spaces, and I saw an open spot right in front of the store. It wasn’t even a handicapped space. There weren’t many cars in the lot, so I turned through an empty space and accelerated to grab it before someone else did. I guess I pressed too hard, because my car hopped the curb and shot through the big plate windows in front of the bakery. It was horrible. There was glass everywhere. The car went straight through to the counter. There were only a few customers in there and thank God none of them got hurt. If they’d been at the counter instead of one of the tables, they’d be dead, too—just like Sylvia. I guess you know the lady behind the counter died, right?”
“Yes, I heard that.”
“She was such a nice lady. We went there a lot, and my mom really liked her. Me, too.” Carter’s eyes filled with tears. “Every once in a while, she’d give me a free donut or a cinnamon roll. She was the owner.”
“Oh. I thought she was just a clerk,” Randy said.
“No, she owned the place. That makes it even worse. She was about my mom’s age, and all her kids are grown, but I don’t know if they’ll keep the bakery open. It’s bad enough to lose their mom, but she was such a great cook. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. I bet they miss her cinnamon bread. It was her own secret recipe. It’s just so sad.” Lloyd apparently caught the incredulous look on Frank’s face. “You probably think I’m crazy for worrying about something like that. But I’ve got a lot of time to think in here. I really miss my mom’s cooking. I’d give anything for a bowl of her spaghetti.”
Randy changed the subject before Carter’s mood sank any lower. “So, you think you pressed too hard on the accelerator?”
“I guess that’s what happened. I was hoping they’d find something wrong with the car, but they didn’t. After I got arrested, my mom told me about sudden acceleration cases from years ago. We were thinking something like that happened, but apparently not. I must have just pushed too hard. That’s what they’ve charged me with...reckless driving and vehicular manslaughter.”
“This may sound like a strange question, but do you remember what was going through your mind at the time?” Danny asked.
“What’s strange is that I do remember.”
“Why?”
“Because I very clearly remember that my mind was a complete blank. There wasn’t really anything going through it. I was looking for a parking space, I saw one, I turned the car, I accelerated what I thought was just a little, and bam! My mind went blank. My eyes saw the window looming and glass raining down, but none of it really registered. The air bag went off and kind of knocked me out. When I woke up, people were all around me, and I was inside the bakery. A little while after that, I found out Sylvia was dead. It was just horrible. She was so nice, and I can’t believe I killed her. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“If you didn’t do it on purpose, then you need to find a way to forgive yourself, Lloyd. It won’t do any good for you to keep dwelling on it,” Randy said.
“That’s what my mom says, too. But that’s a lot easier said than done. I mean, killing Sylvia was about as bad as it gets, but at least that was quick. They told me she didn’t suffer, which is a good thing. It’s different with my mom. It’s like I’m watching her die a little bit more every time she comes to see me. I almost don’t want her to visit, but seeing her is probably the only thing keeping me sane. I know it’s selfish, but I feel so alone in here.” Lloyd hung his head and stared at the table. “That’s why I haven’t told her to stop coming.”
“It’s probably the same for her, so don’t try to stop her from visiting. The connection will help you both.”
Lloyd nodded, sniffling.
Randy folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I know they already asked you this, but had you been doing any drugs or drinking prior to the crash?”
“I’ll answer that, detective,” Mr. Lawson said. “They did a complete drug and alcohol screen on him. He was clean.”
“So, nothing wrong with the car, and no drugs or alcohol, huh?”
“No, sir. I don’t do drugs. Well, I take herbal supplements, but I don’t do illegal drugs. I tried pot a few times, but I didn’t like it. That was years ago.”
“You smoked pot?”
“Only a few times. Some of the kids in my high school were smoking and I tried it. But like I said, I didn’t like it. I don’t smoke cigarettes or drink, either, although I also tried them in school. Same thing, just a few times. I got really active in my church a few years ago, and I found that much more satisfying than anything else. So, I guess you could say God is my drug, as corny as that sounds.”
“What kind of supplements do you take?” Frank asked.
“I took whatever was supposed to help me lose weight. I don’t need them now, though,” he replied. “Ironic, isn’t it? I tried everything to lose weight before, and nothing helped. Since I got here, I’ve lost fifteen pounds. Not that I’d recommend it as a weight-loss plan to anyone.”
Danny whistled. “Fifteen pounds? Well, the food can’t be that good in here, so that’s understandable.”
“Actually, the food’s not bad. But I can’t raid the fridge whenever I want. No midnight snacks in prison.”
“Lloyd, you said you tried everything to lose weight. Like what?” Frank asked.
Randy and Danny exchanged puzzled looks. “Why does that matter?” Randy asked.
Frank shrugged. “It doesn’t, really. I’m just curious.”
Frank furrowed his brow in concentration. “I don’t remember the names, but if they sell it over the counter, I’ve probably bought it.”
“Why were you so anxious to lose weight? You don’t look to me like you need to, even if you were fifteen pounds heavier,” Frank said. “Any particular reason?”
Lloyd flushed. “I wanted to look good for Sheila. She goes to my church.”
Frank smiled. “It’s always for a girl, isn’t it?”
Randy looked askance at the young officer. What is this? Gossip hour? He kept his mouth shut, though, curious to see if Frank was actually going anywhere with this.
Lloyd puffed out a breath. “In hindsight, I just wasted my money buying stuff that didn’t work. It didn’t keep my hand out of the potato chip bag.”
Frank nodded. “Have you heard of weight loss clinics? I had a friend who tried one.”
“Yeah, I went to one. Just another waste of money.”
Danny picked up the trail instantly. “There’s a clinic here in town called Eternal Weight Loss. They’ve got a money-back guarantee.”
“That’s the one I went to,” Lloyd replied. “Maybe I should have demanded a refund, but I was so discouraged at the time, I let it go.”
“What’s this all about, detective?” Mr. Lawson asked. “What does that have to do with this case?”
“Nothing.” Danny shrugged. “Randy’s been thinking about losing weight. I wondered if they were any good, since we were on the subject.”
“Well, they didn’t seem to help me any. I suppose their plan would work if you stuck with it, but to me it seemed like a lot of psychobabble. You know, getting in touch with your feelings, that kind of thing. C
utting calories makes more sense to me than pondering my eating habits. I know why I eat. Ice cream and potato chips taste good, especially when I’m up late studying.”
“My friend Rick Caldwell went there. Did you ever happen to run into him?” Frank asked.
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“I fail to see what this has to do with anything,” Mr. Lawson said. “I mean, it’s an interesting conversation, but I have another appointment coming up. Are you guys about through with Lloyd?”
“We are. Sorry we got so sidetracked,” Randy said. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us, Lloyd. I think that’s all the questions we have for you.”
“No problem. It was a nice diversion.”
Randy stood to move toward the door, but a sudden thought shook him. He sat back down across from Lloyd, eyes intent. “Look, Lloyd, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me. Will you listen?”
“I will.”
Randy took a deep breath. “I know you’re all torn up over what happened, but you need to try and let it go. You said you’re religious, and so am I. I know that God is in control and he has a plan. And that plan includes only what is best for you, even if you can’t see that now. You can’t change what happened, but you can learn to live with it, and that’s what you need to do. If you don’t, it’ll eat you alive. Do you understand?”
“Yes. It’s just hard.”
“I’m sure it is. I want you to make me a promise.”
“What’s that?”
“If you start thinking about harming yourself, then I want you to talk to someone. Let them help you. If you don’t feel like you have anyone you can talk to, then call Mr. Lawson and talk to him.” Randy pulled a card out of his pocket and wrote his personal cell phone number on it. Handing it to Lloyd, he said, “And if you need to, call me. I don’t normally give out my personal number, but I’m giving it to you. Don’t forget how much your mom loves you, even through all of this, and how important coming to visit you is to her. She needs you to stick around. For her sake, promise you’ll talk to someone if you start feeling like you want to harm yourself.”
