by Carrie Carr
From the long silence in the room, they seemed unsatisfied with her answer.
"No," she said. "The answer is still no. N-O. I did not sleep with him, and I did not kill him."
A faint smile arose on Detective Uhler's face before Michelle returned her point of focus to the table in front of her.
"Why did you call in sick this morning?"
"I told you already. I had an exhausting night."
Detective Lane interjected, scooting closer to her. "Then why did you later come in?"
Michelle lifted her head and turned away from him. "I found out what happened and thought it might be in my best interest to come in so that I wouldn't look─"
"Guilty?" Detective Lane asked, finishing her sentence.
"Yes." Michelle turned to face him.
Detective Uhler glanced over his notes, seemingly confused.
"What I want to know is how a strong man like Bruce Colby could be strangled by a woman?"
"Rage has a way of giving people an exorbitant amount of strength," Michelle said. "Then again, maybe it wasn't a woman. Maybe it was a man dressed as a woman, wearing a wig. Did you think about that?"
Michelle witnessed the stunned look on Detective Uhler's face as he glanced over at Detective Lane, as if considering the possibility of her words.
Michelle was relieved because she believed she successfully threw them off her trail. To give them even more to think about, she added. "And he did have a heart condition."
"What do you mean, heart condition?" Detective Lane asked.
"He was on some kind of medication."
"Who else knew about this?" Detective Uhler asked.
"A lot of people."
"Did Ms. Givens know about this?"
"Maybe."
Detective Lane grabbed the ticket stubs from the table, examining them with a meticulous eye. He seemed to study them for a long time. He then directed his attention to Detective Uhler.
"Now this is interesting," Detective Lane said.
"What?" Detective Uhler questioned.
Detective Lane handed the ticket stubs to Detective Uhler. Detective Uhler scratched his forehead as if he stumbled onto something. "I can't believe I missed that," Detective Uhler said.
A blank look graced Michelle's face as she suffered in silence, wondering what they saw that she didn't.
"This ticket stub is for the 15th of November."
Clueless, Michelle waited for his words to sink in, but she wasn't grasping it.
"So?"
"Last night was the 22nd."
"Let me see that," she said. In disbelief, Michelle reached for the ticket stubs, scrutinized them with a careful eye and focused in on the date. To her dismay, they were ab2solutely right. How could she have made such a big mistake?
If they believed her before, they sure as hell didn't anymore. Even though she was definitely where she said she was, she failed to prove it. Instead, she unintentionally destroyed her wonderful alibi. With a don't-tell-anyone-I'm-stupid look flashing over her face, she stared down at the table in front of her and picked up her face. "I don't know what to say. I must have grabbed the wrong ticket stubs by mistake."
"Do you always keep old ticket stubs?" Detective Uhler asked.
"Sometimes."
"Why?" Detective Lane asked.
"I don't know, a habit I guess."
"Are you sure you were at the movies last night?" Detective Lane asked.
"Yes," Michelle said sharply after having maintained a certain amount of composure thus far. "I have the ticket stubs from last night. I just have to get them."
Both Detectives Uhler and Lane displayed a doubtful look on their faces as they simultaneously removed their glasses at the same time.
"They're at home," she said. "I can go home and get them."
Detective Uhler ignored her suggestion, scribbled some notes on his note pad and stood up. "You can go, Ms. Moore."
Michelle didn't hesitate. She rose up fast and moved towards the door.
"Ms. Moore," Detective Uhler said. "Don't go too far. Okay?"
Moments later, Michelle was gone.
With each passing minute, Bianca felt her world growing dark as she stood in the shower, her back against the wall. She turned off the water, but didn't move for a long time. In a coma like state, she pondered, hoped and prayed for this day to be over. She considered returning to her office, but she couldn't, not yet. It would look too suspicious, but then again if she didn't return, they would come for her. After all, she was a suspect.
She stepped from the shower and stood at the mirror. She studied her bloodshot eyes, straight black hair and the somber look on her face. Now would have been a good time to crawl back to Dr. Kern's office, but she managed to even screw that up by halting her sessions with him.
After slipping into her fire engine red bathrobe, she headed for the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the counter.
She left word with the receptionist that she would not be in due to personal reasons. She stood barefoot in front of the refrigerator, embracing the silence.
If ever a morning existed when she needed a drink, this was the one. But she forced herself not to. It was part of her problem. Instead, she made herself some coffee. She needed to be totally sober and prepared for what was ahead.
As the coffee brewed, a streak of hope invaded Bianca's mind. Maybe she wouldn't be questioned at all, despite what Rollie said. Her momentary flash of hope didn't last long as she doubted herself. For some strange reason, she wondered if she was responsible for Bruce's death and blocked it from her memory.
After all, everything transpired so fast.
Last night was vivid and a blur at the same time. She tortured herself with the thought that maybe her contact with Bruce did not end with her leaving him in the men's room. Bruce being strangled possessed all the signs of her kinky tactics. As quickly as she tried to move the disturbing thoughts from her mind, others crept inside her head.
She needed to control her worries. She was not the killer of Bruce Colby. And that was that.
But if she didn't kill him, then who did?
In the front room, Bianca stood at the window looking out, wondering what to do next. Again she considered returning to her office. Hiding out at home was not doing her any good. If anything, hiding out at home made her look even guiltier.
But she was afraid.
Her being with Bruce last night was suspicious, no doubt, and the detectives were going to want answers.
How would she explain making out in the men's room with Bruce and then later Bruce turning up dead?
She finally got around to picking up the lamp from the floor, then returned to the window for deep thought. She gazed at the bare trees, studying them as she contemplated what her next move would be.
The loud ring of the phone snapped her out of her focused zone and into the panic zone. Afraid to answer the phone, she stood motionless, nibbling at her fingernails, a habit she had overcome many years ago. It was time to back up off the imaginary cliff she was standing on and think.
She listened to the phone ring for the third time. After letting voicemail pickup, she checked the message and learned that it was Michelle and nervously awaited the message.
"Bianca, this is Michelle. If you're there, please call me back. This is important."
Right after the message played, her phone rang again. The display told her that it was Michelle again.
"Hello," Bianca said.
"I knew you were there," Michelle said.
Bianca did not want to sound as frazzled as she really was so very calmly, she asked. "What's up?"
"I wanted to make sure you were all right. You know about what happened, everything that happened last night, don't you?"
"I heard about it."
"Well, the detectives questioned both Camina and myself, and I'm sure they're going to want to talk to you next."
"What kind of questions did they ask you?"
"About last ni
ght mostly."
Bianca didn't have an alibi for last night. At least not one that would save her hide. She was a dead woman, and she might just as well go to the grave, jump in the hole and wait for them to cover her with dirt. With the strong silence penetrating the room, Bianca drifted off to comatose land. She couldn't stop thinking about how she would explain her whereabouts to the police.
"Bianca, are you there? Bianca?" Michelle called out.
Though Bianca could hear Michelle calling her name, she seemed too far away to answer.
"Bianca?"
Finally, Bianca returned to her somewhat sane state. "I'm here."
"I have to tell you. Camina seems to think that you are responsible for the death of Bruce Colby, but I don't believe her."
"Thank you for saying that," Bianca said.
"I know you're not responsible for what happened to Bruce, so try not to worry too much. Okay?"
After everything that happened, Michelle still had faith in her. It was faith that she didn't believe she deserved, and she was so touched. Even Bianca, herself, wasn't 100 percent certain that she was innocent.
"I planted a bug in their ear," Michelle said. "Got them to think that it could have been a man wearing a wig or something."
"Did they think it was possible?"
"They think everything is possible, but it's definitely something they won't pass aside, especially after they question you."
Was that it? Just answer their questions and it would be over? That was her window of hope.
Michelle made it sound so simple and so much Bianca wanted to believe it was, but she couldn't. She knew better.
Bianca hung up from Michelle and decided to do the one thing she thought could help her─pray. Maybe if she prayed, really prayed, like she never prayed before, she could somehow dig herself out of this hole she had dug for herself. Bianca dropped to her knees as she had seen so many others do and recited a prayer from her heart.
With her hands clasped together, she lifted her head and prayed.
Dear God. I am in dire need of your help. I'm terrified of what I have done, and I need your forgiveness. Please forgive me for all the wrong I have done and the wrong that I have inflicted onto others and accept me into your family.
Bianca finished her prayer and eased up from the floor, and miraculously, she intuitively knew what to do. It was time to talk to the police.
She couldn't postpone it any longer. Otherwise, they would come for her. No longer could she wait at home like this, hoping it would all go away. A man had been murdered, and things like that didn't conveniently go away.
A minute later, Bianca stood in the bathroom mirror. She was about to blow dry her hair when she heard several sharp knocks at her door. It was an authoritative knock, the kind that demanded attention. It was the police, no doubt. In a halted position, her heart pounded a million beats a minute. She froze, literally froze. Since Lee was so magnificent at reaching her apartment without calling up first, her first thought was that it could have been him. But she knew better. Lee would never knock like that.
She hoped and wished that whoever it was at the door would go away, but her wishing would do her no good. She had finally made the decision to stop hiding and talk to the police, something she should have done sooner, but it was too late. They were now at her front door, certain to be even more suspicious of her than they may have been otherwise. Needless to say, her decision to talk to the police came an hour too late.
Chapter 15
THE DISTURBING KNOCKS AT HER front door emanated throughout her apartment.
She entertained the idea of not answering in the hopes that maybe they would go away, but soon realized it was a fantasy that would never make its way into reality. It was a temporary solution that probably wouldn't work anyway.
Bianca stood immobilized in front of the bathroom mirror. Not wanting the police to know that she had recently colored her hair, she grabbed a towel from the shower rod and wrapped it around her damp hair. She headed towards the front door, her towel neatly wrapped around her head like a turban. Suddenly, she remembered the hair color box on her basin and made a quick U-turn back to the bathroom, and pulled the door shut.
The authoritative knocks at her door continued before she could answer. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Detective Uhler, Chicago Police."
This was it, the moment she dreaded in all of its woe.
Upon opening the door, she saw before her two detectives who she recognized from her office.
Detective Uhler flashed his badge. "I'm Detective Uhler, and this is my partner, Detective Lane. We're with the Chicago Police Department. Are you Bianca Bell?"
"I am."
"We'd like to ask you some questions."
Almost neutralized, Bianca stood at the door, her eyes fastened on Detective Uhler. She felt the perspiration about to ooze down her forehead and wasn't sure whether to invite them in or just run.
"May we come in?" Detective Lane asked.
"Sure," Bianca said, as she stepped aside so that they could enter.
After she closed the door, she waited for the detectives to check out her cluttered apartment. New clothes with the price tags still attached lay everywhere along with empty shopping bags, shoeboxes and numerous wine glasses.
Detective Lane turned to her, removing his hands from his coat pockets. "Are you alone, Ms. Bell?"
His question caught her off guard. "Yes."
Detective Uhler stepped over to the mantel where she kept her family portrait and framed obituaries, now placed face down. With his hand on one of the framed obituaries, Detective Uhler turned to Bianca.
"May I?"
"Sure."
Detective Uhler turned over one framed obituary, then the other one, and finally the last one. He returned them to their face down position, all the while standing perfectly still. The detectives stood there, as if waiting to be asked to sit down.
Bianca finally caught on. "You can sit down."
"Thank you," Detective Uhler said.
In a swift move, Bianca moved the clothes from the sofa and adjacent chair. She stacked them neatly in the corner of the sofa, and then eased down in the chair.
While Detective Uhler sat on the chair across from the sofa, Detective Lane stood at a distance, as if observing, like a night watchman. Detective Uhler collected his tiny note pad from his pocket while Bianca casually wiped the sweat from her forehead. She hoped not to draw attention to herself or worse yet, reveal just how frightened she really was.
"Are you aware that Bruce Colby was murdered last night?" Detective Uhler asked.
Regret gnawed at her as she wished she never met Bruce Colby, and most of all, that she never did the things that she did to him. "I heard about it," she said.
"How did you hear about it?" Detective Lane asked.
"A coworker told me."
Detective Lane stepped closer to the sofa. "What coworker is that?"
She was slow to speak, wanting to be as vague as possible for as long as possible. It was important that she not incriminate Michelle in anyway, and there was only one other name that came to mind.
"A secretary at the office," Bianca said.
"Does this secretary have a name?" Detective Uhler asked.
"Camina. Camina Givens."
"Is she a friend?" Detective Uhler asked.
"You can say that."
Detective Lane coughed as if he didn't believe her, then continued. "Why did you come back home this morning after you arrived at work?"
"Who told you that?" she asked very calmly.
Detective Lane inched closer to Bianca. "Maybe your friend Camina told us."
A faint smile tried to make its way on Bianca's face, but she stopped it in time.
"Do you have an answer to our question?" Detective Uhler asked.
She wondered how she could answer that question without incriminating herself. Then her true instincts kicked in. She would lie. "I forgot something so I came back
home to get it."
"And what was that?" Detective Lane asked.
"What did I come back for?" she asked, trying to come up with a quick lie to his question.
Detective Uhler didn't repeat his question; instead he just waited for her to answer.
"Female things," she said.
Detective Uhler smiled whilst Detective Lane unzipped his leather jacket. "So you came home, showered, washed your hair and put on your bathrobe?"
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. What he described was exactly what happened.
"You can't answer that can you?" Detective Lane questioned.
The perspiration crawled down her forehead, and she could not have been more afraid if she were in a room alone with Charles Manson, himself.
Detective Uhler drew his handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses. After a long drawn out silence, he asked, "Ms. Bell, would you mind removing the towel from your head?"
Bianca's eyes lit up in fear. "Why?" She tried to come up with an excuse for why she couldn't remove the towel, but nothing came to mind.
After several moments, Detective Uhler, impatiently said. "Just remove the towel."
His insistence frightened her even more. "I just washed my hair, and I'm susceptible to colds." After she heard what she said, she wanted to kick herself for such a lame excuse, but she needed to say something. "What if I refuse?"
"Ms. Bell," Detective Lane said, before Detective Uhler cut him off. "Is there something you don't want us to see?"
Bianca touched her towel to make sure it was firmly in place and tight on her head. "No, it's not that. I would just rather not."
"Is your hair blonde?" Detective Lane asked.
"It's not naturally blonde. I colored it blonde recently."
"May we see it?" Detective Uhler asked.
Bianca didn't answer.
Detective Uhler closed his note pad. "Listen, Ms. Bell. Bruce Colby was murdered last night and we have good reason to believe it was a black woman with blonde hair. We have already questioned the two other blondes at your office who fit the description of the black woman seen coming from the men's room. Now, it wouldn't be smart to question a third person without ever seeing the color of his or her hair. That's one of the main reasons we're here."
