Back to Lazarus (Sydney Brennan)

by Judy K. Walker

  On the other hand, I thought of what Ida and the Reverend Robert had said. For whatever reason, it sounded as if Vanda had been a genuinely tortured soul. Isaac had stayed with her throughout her crap, perhaps for Noel’s sake, or perhaps because he still loved her, still saw a bit of the person she used to be. With my defense background, I was conditioned to think about the person she used to be, about what brought her so low. Or maybe I was just a sucker.

  I left off with musing and headed over to Miss Johnson’s, sure I could count on her to muddy the water a bit more. She must have seen me coming because she had disengaged an impressive array of locks by the time I got to the door.

  “Hello, Miss Johnson. Thanks for taking the time to see me again.”

  “Well, come on in. Don’t stand in the door yammering. It’s not safe for a body to be out of doors any more.”

  “The street looked pretty quiet when I drove up.”

  “Maybe the crack dealers are on their lunch break,” she said, without a hint of a smile.

  I took a seat on her familiar afghan-accented sofa. “Miss Johnson, I had a few more questions for you about the Thomases, and what happened back then. Do you remember a bar called Jimmy’s? I think you mentioned it the last time we spoke.”

  “You better believe I do. I only set foot in there two or three times, but if my momma had known she woulda tanned my hide. Don’t get me wrong, I was no angel. I had my share of boy problems and those kinds of things, but ladies did not go in Jimmy’s. It just was not done.”

  “I’ve heard that Vanda spent a lot of time in there.”

  Miss Johnson snorted. “Like I said, ladies did not go in there. But you’re right. Vanda was in there all the time. She spent her time there while I’d babysit her child.”

  “Do you remember when Jimmy’s caught on fire?”

  “Oh yeah. It pretty well gutted the place. I think they tried to re-open a few months after the fire, but it didn’t take. Wasn’t too long after that they tore it all down.”

  “What do you remember about that night?”

  “Oh, it’s been so long. Let me think. I saw it. I was over there, but why did I go over there?” She clapped her hands together and touched her index fingers to her bottom lip, almost as if she were praying. Apparently her prayers, and mine, were answered.

  “Oh, lord, I remember now. I went over there because of little Noel. I was worried to death about her.”

  “You weren’t keeping her that evening?”

  “No. That is, I was supposed to, but her momma picked her up. See, Isaac had to work late, so Noel came over here to stay. It must have been around 8:30 or 9:00 that night when Vanda dropped by. She said she wanted to take Noel with her. She didn’t say where, but I figured she was going to Jimmy’s. That’s where Vanda always went, and I think she took Noel there a couple of times before. Of course I didn’t approve, but I didn’t have any say-so. She was Vanda’s child.”

  “Then about 10 o’clock I heard a car pull up, and a little later there was a knock at the door. I remember I looked at the clock before I answered the door, wondering who could be knocking so late. When I did, I realized there was a program I wanted to watch—Dynasty maybe? I don’t know. So I went to the door and it was Isaac, still in his work clothes. One of his buddies had just dropped him off, and he was coming to pick up Noel. I said, what do you mean? Didn’t Vanda talk to you? We looked over to the house and didn’t see any lights, so we figured Vanda and Noel were still at Jimmy’s.”

  “Ooh, that man was mad. His friend had already left, and I didn’t have a car, so he just took off walking down the road toward Jimmy’s. It’s not that far, and I know for a fact he’d walked over there before, looking for Vanda, or picking up the car when she left it behind.”

  “Are you sure he hadn’t been in his house yet?”

  “About as sure as I can be. It was only a few seconds after I heard the car pull up that he knocked on the door, and like I said, he still had his work clothes on. And I watched him walk away until I couldn’t see him anymore. I didn’t know whether to follow him, but then I finally decided it wasn’t any of my business.”

  “How did you find out about the fire?”

  “Well, after Isaac left I went in the kitchen to get some snacks for watching my program. I hadn’t any more than got the TV on when the phone rang. It was one of my cousins. Her daddy had a police scanner, and she said they just heard that Jimmy’s was on fire and it was burning to the ground. Well, I just had to get over there and see if Noel was all right, so I made my cousin come get me.”

  “How long did that take?” I asked.

  “Not long. She lived close by, probably not even half a mile away. When we got over there, it was crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It was so hot. I didn’t expect it to be so hot so far away from the fire. And there were people everywhere, crying and carrying on, trying to make sure everybody got out okay. The fire truck was there, and a few cop cars, and they couldn’t get people to stay back far enough. People were just too scared. They didn’t have any sense.”

  “Did you ever find Noel or Isaac?”

  “I saw Isaac leaving. I ran over to see if he found Noel, but I never did get to speak with him. When I got there, another cop had just pulled in and got out of his car, and he yelled at Isaac, asking if he’d give a statement yet. Isaac just ignored him and kept walking, and obviously the cop had more important things to do than go running after Isaac.”

  “What about Noel?”

  “Well, here I am, I still don’t know if Noel’s all right or not, and I wasn’t about to chase the man either. But I did find Noel pretty quick. Miss Linton, she went to the same church, she had Noel. Isaac had asked if she would keep Noel for overnight, and he’d come by in the morning with her clothes and school books. Once I saw Noel was okay, I got my cousin and we left.”

  “When Isaac left, was he walking or did he get a ride?”

  “Somebody might have picked him up later, but when he left he was walking. It’s funny though, because his car must have been at Jimmy’s the whole time. I came by a couple of days later, and their car was still there. I went to get the keys to pick it up in case he needed it when he got out of jail—lord, I forgot the two things happened so close together.”

  “Yes. Actually, Vanda was murdered that same night, the night of the fire.”

  “Are you sure?” She suddenly looked old and confused, like her brain had shut down without her permission.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I know you talked to the police about Isaac and Vanda, right? Do you remember that?”

  “The police? Yes, yes I remember. They asked me about their fights.”

  “Did they ever ask you about what happened on that night? The night of the fire and the night Vanda was killed?”

  “They must have. I mean, I’m sure they did. They came out a few times.”

  Here her mind began to clear. “That detective, the white guy with the funny name, I remember he looked me up and down every time he came by, and that was at least twice. And I’m sure I spoke to somebody else too. But in my mind, the fire and Vanda’s murder aren’t connected. I don’t understand it, but I really don’t think they asked me about that night, not about seeing Isaac and the fire.”

  The wheels were turning, but I think her mind was trying to protect her from what she wasn’t ready for. I certainly didn’t want to push it. She didn’t deserve the guilt.

  “Don’t worry about it, Miss Johnson. You can only answer the questions the cops ask you, and if you hadn’t answered their questions they would have come back and asked again. Obviously they were satisfied, and so am I.”

  I rose to leave. “Thanks for all your help, Miss Johnson. I can’t guarantee I won’t be bugging you again, but I probably won’t.”

  “Well, that’s okay. I’m a busy woman, but I believe in doing my civic duty, unlike most people nowadays. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what happened to you? I know you didn’t have that
contraption on your arm and those bruises the last time you came out to see me. You didn’t have a run-in with some of those street punks, did you?”

  “No, ma’am, I didn’t. I, uh, I actually fell off the back of a pick-up.”

  I should get credit for a partial truth on that one. Besides the last thing Miss Johnson needed was another bunch of boogey men to worry about. She made sympathetic clucking sounds.

  “Unh-unh, well that is a shame, but let me tell you, you were lucky. It just scares me to death every time I see somebody with kids riding in the back of the pick-up, just waiting to fly off and eat the pavement. That’s so irresponsible, it ought to be illegal.”

  “Oh, I hear you. It’s the same thing with dogs. You see people all the time with their dogs running back and forth in the pick-up bed, from one side to the other, leaning over the side. I’m always afraid they’re going to fly out and land on the hood of my car every time one of those pick-ups goes around a turn.”

  Obviously Miss Johnson was not a big dog fan. She’d lost her momentary sympathy for me and was now looking at me like I was a circus freak. That’s what happens when I break my own Number 1 Rule of Investigation—just nod your head a lot and make listening sounds when appropriate. Any time you make a contribution of your own to the conversation, you risk getting the circus freak look, or worse yet, pissing off an important and/or armed witness. Perhaps it was the thought of armed witnesses that made me remember the bulge in my purse.

  “Oh, Miss Johnson, I almost forgot,” I said, handing her the bodice-ripping paperback I’d bought the night I was attacked. “I thought maybe you hadn’t read this one.”

  Her eyes lit up, all talk of dogs forgiven. She thanked me and hurried me out the door. I stood on her stoop and listened to the clicks and metallic grinding slides. I didn’t count them, but in her eagerness to crack the cover I think she may have missed a few locks.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I was feeling pretty worn out when I left Miss Johnson’s, so I headed back downtown to my motel to indulge in a nap. My brain needed to be in top form when I briefed Mike and Richard in the afternoon. It’s likely Richard would have some resistance to what I had to tell them, and I wanted to make sure I was able to logically counter every argument. I left a message at the PD’s office that he and Mike could reach me at my room.

  While no longer so painful, disrobing was awkward, so I settled for removing my shoes and lying on top of the sheets. I was wearing thin-soled, hemp pseudo-Mary Janes, the closest thing to slippers I could find that I could still wear in public. I felt like a hippie Ninja. There was very little cushioning between the soles of my feet and the ground, but there was also good air circulation and very little to irritate the itching, healing skin. I resisted the urge to scratch and instead rubbed aloe vera on my feet. The combination of burning and cooling sensations was intensely satisfying.

  When the knocking at my door woke me later, I saw that my unconscious mind had been disobedient, rubbing my itchy feet against the bed in my sleep. It was pretty obvious; my feet were still moving and they had a slightly fiery feeling. I didn’t rub them on the carpet as I walked to the door, but I did indulge in very heavy steps. The door swung wide when I opened it and I left it that way, not bothering to wait for Mike and Richard to enter.

  “Did you even look to see who it was?” Richard asked.

  In fact, I hadn’t thought to check the peephole. My one good hand tried to rub the sleep from my eyes but only succeeded in making them more difficult to open.

  “Didn’t have to. I could feel your pissy vibes through the door.” Grin from Mike, more pissy vibes from Richard.

  Mike pulled a folder from his bag and it on the spare bed that was looking like a desk. “I come bearing gifts, not pissy vibes.”

  “What’s that?” Richard asked.

  “A report on vehicles operated by Isaac and Vanda Thomas at the time of her death. It turns out they only had—“

  “One car,” I interrupted. Mike gave me the sad puppy face and I flipped open the folder to glance through it. “I know, but I didn’t have the make and model and license plate. Thank you.”

  I picked up my recently amended report binder, scanned a few pages from a scene report, and nodded. “Got it,” I said, and set the binder back on my bed.

  They both seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I obliged. “Okay, guys, what’s the plan?”

  “Why don’t we start with the two of you telling me what you’ve been up to?” Richard said.

  Still pissy vibes, and possibly innuendo. Mike looked distressed at the animosity, but I was still too sleep-groggy to care.

  “Hey, don’t look at me. She just asked me to look up that one thing, and she wouldn’t even tell me why. I don’t know what she’s up to either.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mike. Remind me to call you whenever I want to be thrown under a bus.” I tried to run my fingers through my hair, but they caught in knots.

  “Look, just give me a couple of minutes. I wasn’t expecting company. Or wakefulness.”

  I started some caffeinated coffee in the little coffee maker, then washed my face and tried to do something with my hair. It was starting to look like a scarf day. Once the baby pot stopped popping and burbling and I had a heavily sweetened cup of nectar, I felt ready to deal with Mike and Richard. They were watching a news channel on TV but turned it off when I joined them.

  “There’s coffee in the pot.” Of course they’d heard and smelled it, but like good little guests who’d barged in on their hostess unannounced, they waited until I’d offered to pounce on my meager effort at hospitality.

  “Okay, this will probably make more sense later, but I’ll start with the car. I called Mike last night after you guys left because I got a little bug in my brain about Isaac and Vanda’s car, or cars. I didn’t know for sure then how many they had. I was trying to figure out their movements on the night she was killed. It’s that simple.”

  I took a deep breath. “The rest of it isn’t so simple, so just hear me out.”

  “You don’t think Isaac killed her,” Mike said.

  Okay, he owed me a couple, but my jaw still dropped. “How did you know?”

  “Because I don’t think he did either.”

  We both looked at Richard. “Let me guess. You think that because I helped screw up the case and get him sent to prison, I don’t want to think he’s innocent. And don’t start—I did help screw it up, but this isn’t about blame. It’s about finding the truth. Sydney, the first time we met, I told you I had doubts about his guilt. That hasn’t changed. So tell us what you’ve got.”

  Could it be that simple? Probably not, not deep down, but I was too tired to worry about deep down right now. With that in the open and the deep down stuff still deep down, the tension was gone. We felt like a team again. I grinned in giddy relief. I told them Miss Johnson’s story, that Vanda had picked up Noel from her house unexpectedly and Isaac showed up later looking for Noel.

  “I think Vanda had the car, and she drove herself and Noel to Jimmy’s.”

  “Wait,” Mike said. He rummaged in his bag again, then whipped out a flat object with a flourish. It was a small wipeboard, about 12” x 18.” “I know it’s not your monster board, but I snagged it from the office anyway. Thought it might come in handy.”

  “Perfect,” I said, and starting writing out the timeline as I spoke.

  “Okay, Vanda picks up Noel in the car at about 8:30 or 9:00, and they go to Jimmy’s. At some point, X, Vanda leaves Noel there at Jimmy’s. It seems likely she went home, but she didn’t drive. Someone had to give her a ride. The report from the fire at Jimmy’s lists her car—their car—as one of the cars sitting in the parking lot at the scene. Plus Miss Johnson says she got the keys and went to pick up the car at Jimmy’s a couple of days later.”

  “At 10 o’clock, a buddy drops Isaac off and he goes straight to Miss Johnson’s to get Noel. When he finds out she’s not there, that Vanda took her, he star
ts walking to Jimmy’s to find them. I don’t know how long it would take to walk it, but we can check. Right now let’s assume 10 minutes. At 10:06, the call comes in on the fire, and the fire department is on the scene at 10:15. Let’s say Isaac gets there around 10:10. The fire is blazing, he’s running around looking for Noel and Vanda.”

  As I turned from the board to look at Richard and Mike, a smear of blue caught my eye. Somehow the side of my hand was already blue from the wipeboard marker. It’s a gift. I ignored it and went on.

  “Miss Johnson finds out about the fire and her cousin drives her to the scene. The first cops arrive at 10:25, and cops continue to arrive. When Miss Johnson sees Isaac, a cop that just arrived is trying to speak to him, so let’s just say it’s 10:28. At this point, Isaac knows Noel is okay and has already made arrangements for her to stay with someone else for the rest of the night. He’s pissed at Vanda—not only did she take their little girl to Jimmy’s, but she left her there alone, and Noel could have been killed in the fire. It’s going to be ugly when he finds her, maybe he’s going to kick her out for good this time, so he has Noel stay with a friend.”

  “Isaac isn’t thinking, or he just assumes Vanda took the car. Miss Johnson sees him walking home. Maybe he walks fast because he’s pissed, maybe slower so he can calm down. Let’s just stick with the same 10 minutes for now. That puts him at home at 10:38 p.m. He’s leaving when Rudy and the Sarge show up at 10:45. That only gives Isaac seven minutes to argue with his wife, hit her a couple of times, and strangle her before the cops arrive to find a body that I suspect was not that freshly dead.”

  Mike chimed in. “Don’t forget the soot spots on her neck. According to the State’s theory, he had to have killed her before he went to the fire or the rest of her neck would have been dirty. He kills her, goes to the fire, she hasn’t revived when he returns so he check her vitals and puts the spots there. Is it possible that he killed her before he went to Miss Johnson’s?”