“All that’s interesting Mr. Woods, but other than these two ladies from his personal life, did Mr. Johnson have any problems with anyone at work?” asked Deek.
“No way, man. Everybody at UDS loved Jay. He was a funny cat. Always kept us goin’. More’n half those folks takin’ up seats upstairs work at UDS. Even our boss is here and nobody in the yard likes her.”
“Hum, I see. So as far as you know nothing out of the ordinary happened at work before Mr. Johnson got fired for using drugs?”
“Now that you mention it, I do recall one incident. A coupla weeks ago, my load was running late so I waited out my time in the breakroom ‘til I could punch out. Anyways, I overheard Jerome talkin’ to this dude on the phone about payin’ back some loot. When he got off the telephone, he broke down and told me he was in trouble.” Alonzo paused and looked down at his feet, shaking his head.
“Yeah, go on.” Deek prompted.
“Jay told me he used to be down with this DC Mafia crew called Jett Set. He ran up a tab for about two grand and couldn’t pay it back. But growing up he was tight with some of the dudes so they gave him a few extensions. He told the crew he was gonna ask his uncle to take out a home equity loan and spot him the dough. Anyway Jay told me he was worried ‘cause Unk had bad credit. I dunno what happened after that. I doubt it worked out good for him the way the economy’s been going down.”
“Got any names for me, Mr. Woods? Did Mr. Johnson tell you who he spoke to from the Jett Set crew that day?”
“Naw. Jay got tight-lipped after he calmed down. Besides, those guys only go by nicknames. Nobody knows what name they Mama gave ‘em.” Alonzo’s face suddenly turned agitated as he spoke. “Maybe Jay couldn’t pay up in time and one of those Jett Setters whacked him.”
Deek glanced at his watch. “Thank you for the information, Mr. Woods. I’ll discuss your statement with my partner this afternoon. In case we have further questions, is it okay if we stop by your house sometime tomorrow morning?”
“Let’s see, tomorrow’s Saturday, ain’t it?” said Alonzo, rubbing his forehead, “My only day off is Sunday but they got me on night shift so I’m usually home in the daytime. Sure thing, Detective, I guess tomorrow morning’s okay if ya’ll wanna stop by around nine or so.”
“I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Woods,” said Deek, writing down Alonzo’s telephone number and address of 19th Street, SE in the Lincoln Park neighborhood.
“Wait a minute Detective, if ya’ll do drop by tomorrow, it’s best if we trek on up to the corner store so I can talk in peace,” said Alonzo, “Otherwise Izza, that’s my wife, Isabelle—she’ll hang on every damn word. Sometimes I talk too loud ‘cause I can’t hear so good no more. Now, Izza can hear a fly walk. I can’t keep none of my damn business to myself. We been married 30 years and that woman’s ‘bout to get on my last nerve.”
“Whatever you prefer, Mr. Woods. I'll go over your statement with Detective Bradford, my partner and I’ll call if we need further information. Thanks again for your cooperation.”
“No problem, Detective. I’m glad to do my civic duty to help ya’ll fight crime. I hope you find the dude that done it,” said Alonzo.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get the person responsible, sooner or later.”
Just then Deek’s cell phone rang and he stepped out of the room to answer it. Alonzo got up from his chair and moved closer to Renee on the sofa. “You know Dr. Renee the repast is gonna be at Brenda’s mama’s house right after service. Ya’ll comin’?”
“I would like to be there for Brenda,” said Renee and hoped Alonzo Woods wouldn’t be attending, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her privately for several days. I’m sure all the publicity around this case has been stressful for her.” She was relieved when Deek returned.
“Looks like I have to head on back to headquarters now. That was my partner on the phone. Something’s come up.”
“Roger that, Detective,” Alonzo winked, “I’ll look after the Doc for you.” Alonzo let out a yawn and stretched his arms. “Lord, this funeral is deader than poor Jay layin’ up there in that damn coffin. I hope I can hold on ‘til the repast. I dunno what the hell that priest’s been talkin’ about all this time. That priest don’t know my buddy from Adam. This is probably the first time Jay’s even been in a church. And now, looks like it’s his last.”
Deek and Renee glanced at each other briefly. Renee forced herself not to comment while Deek simply shrugged and shook his head. Their silence didn’t keep Alonzo from continuing the conversation on his own. “Me, I was raised Southern Baptist. I expect folks to be wailin’ and fallin’ out on the floor at a funeral. You know, something to keep you awake. This funeral’s too tame for me.”
“Mr. Woods, do you mind?” said Deek as he walked to the door and held it open, “I need to speak to Dr. Hayes before I leave.”
“’course not, Detective. I get the hint.” Alonzo rose from the couch. “I’ma go on back up there and comfort the widow. I guess this thing’s almost over.” Alonzo left and Deek closed the door behind him. Renee exhaled a sigh of relief. She picked up her purse from the couch and approached where Deek stood by the door.
“I dread running into that man whenever I’m at the hairdresser’s and now I find him here.”
“I don’t care who he is. If he’s got information pertinent to this case, I need to talk to him,” said Deek, “Right now, we don’t have any eyewitnesses or strong physical evidence that would take the heat off Brenda. Bradford just called to tell me he has more incriminating information against your secretary.”
“What did he say?”
“I can’t discuss it right now until I have all the facts. But let’s just say we need as many personal statements as we can get and hope it points somewhere else. Unless a confession drops in my lap, I have to depend on information sources like Mr. Woods to provide other leads.”
“You’re right Deek,” said Renee, “but from the tall tales I hear Alonzo Woods dishing out to the girls at the beauty shop, I wouldn’t put much stock in anything that man has to say.”
Deek smiled, “Well, Doc does that mean you’re not interested in coming out with Bradford and me tomorrow morning to further question Mr. Woods?”
Renee wrinkled up her face, “Surely you jest. I consider your partner to be several notches below Alonzo Woods on the obnoxious scale.”
“If I recall, Doc, you did say you wanted to work with us on this case.”
“I guess you do have a valid point, Detective,” she said while looking up into his dark, brown eyes.
“Good. I like having you around,” he said and pulled her waist close to his body as he kissed her gently with a few brief pecks.
She felt the soft, moistness of his lips, defined by a neatly trimmed mustache. Deek didn’t have those tickly, annoying facial hairs like some lazy men who wrongly believed regular grooming was only for women. And, he smelled so good. She closed her eyes and interlocked her arms around the small of his back as if to urge him not to leave just yet. She was surprised to realize that she had abandoned her fear of getting hurt because he might grow weary of her. Neither did she care that they stood only inches apart in the basement of a church. Renee only wanted to relish in how wonderful she felt at that moment. Deek teased her lips with his in a slow, circular motion then playfully met her tongue. They lingered in a tight embrace and tasted each other’s lips. Renee felt the hard metal glock fastened to a shoulder holster under his jacket. The gun didn’t bother her because she only focused on listening to his breath, and smelling the alluring, spicy fragrance of his cologne, while keenly aware of his body’s increasing hardness.
“I’d better get out of here,” he said in a whispered voice, “I shouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking right now in church.”
They ended their kiss as innocently as it began with a playful peck on
the lips then reluctantly let go their grip on each other. After Deek left the church, Renee calmed down and returned upstairs to the funeral service.
Luckily, she found an opening in the pew directly behind Brenda, near Veda and Cha-Cha—familiar faces that smiled at her and made room on their pew.
At the end of the mass, Jerome’s oldest brother came up and eulogized him in a touching tribute and relayed anecdotes from their childhood. In the midst of Father Emanuel’s songbird vocalization of Psalm 116, a woman seated in the middle pews sobbed uncontrollably. Renee turned around but did not recognize the woman who appeared to be close to Brenda’s age. However, she did notice how Mrs. Adams looked back and cut her eyes at the sobbing woman whose makeup had started to run through her crying. She also overheard Mrs. Adams when she leaned over to Brenda and whispered in a voice that was not particularly quiet to anyone sitting near her. “What’s that tramp doing here,” said Mrs. Adams, “Has she lost her mind showing up at Jerome’s funeral? That’s just the epitome of bad taste.” Brenda rocked Baby Justin and ignored the woman’s outbursts as well as her mother’s outrage.
Now the whole church had begun to stare as the woman bent over screaming and clutching her midriff. Renee silently mouthed the question, ‘Who is that?’ and Veda, who sat right next to her, answered that it was Leenae Lewis, Jerome’s girlfriend from when they were all in high school. If Brenda heard Veda identify the woman as Jerome’s high school ex-girlfriend, she didn’t react. Instead, Brenda sat as rigid as a mummy with her lips clamped shut. By this time the noise had awakened the baby and Brenda’s father reached over to take him from Brenda and carried him quickly out into the vestibule. Suddenly, the woman leaped from the pew and sprinted down the aisle yelling, “Open it. Open the casket now. I wanna see him.” Brenda stood up, transfixed and speechless. Everyone stared in shock as Leenae ran towards the casket. Father Emanuel stumbled down the short steps from the altar in his haste to restrain the woman.
“Please, madam, stop,” begged Father Emanuel waving his pudgy arms, “This is a closed casket ceremony.”
People sat motionless with mouths gaped open, too stunned at this sudden outburst to move. In a flash, Leenae got past the priest and flung open the casket while people gasped in horror and disbelief. The severely burned body lay in the coffin, encased in white, silken padding. A white sheet covered most of Jerome’s burned remains. Leenae screamed, covered her hands over her face, and then turned away. Father Emanuel rushed to close the casket, at which point Jerome’s mother doubled over into her husband’s arms and began weeping.
“What in God’s name are you doing, Leenae?” Jerome’s brother shouted, “Are you insane?”
Two men grabbed Leenae by each arm and tried to guide her back to the pew, but she snatched away from them. She stood in the aisle yelling something unintelligible at the dead body in the casket. When she spotted the two men coming towards her, she ran out the side exit.
Alonzo grinned from his seat. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Some drama up in here.”
“This is a shameless spectacle in the House of God!” said Brenda. “Lord, forgive us.” Brenda crumpled onto the seat and cried softly. Veda and Cha-Cha quickly moved up to the front row and put their arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. Renee followed and came forward to try to comfort Brenda.
Mrs. Adams, Brenda’s mother, readjusted her red brimmed hat with a manicured red polished hand, and then crossed her leg to the other side. “Ya’ll should have known better than to set up a dignified funeral for Jerome Johnson. You know the type of riffraff he hung around with. Would have been easier and quicker to have him cremated like I said.”
Once things had settled down after Leenae’s tirade, Father Emanuel ended the service and signaled for the pallbearers to carry the casket out to the hearse. The family had paid the additional cost for police escort through the city, so the funeral procession proceeded straight to the cemetery, unencumbered by rude motorists breaking into their convoy or honking their horns.
Chapter 30
The investigative homicide team, Detectives Melvin “Mel” Bradford and Degas “Deek” Hamilton pulled up at the front gates of Galludet University at 8th and Florida Avenue, N.E. to question the guard. Bradford, the seasoned veteran on the team, short and stocky with thinning hair, and Hamilton, his younger partner, were following up on a tip they had received on Monday October 6, the day of the Capitol Hill fire. When the detectives approached, the six-foot five, muscled-bound guard stepped out of his booth to speak to them.
“Mr. Todd, is it?” said Det. Bradford, reading the nametag on the guard’s uniform, “We’re Detectives Bradford and Hamilton. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” The detectives flashed their badges and Ids simultaneously.
“Like I said, I didn’t see much behind that booth. I couldn’t even make out the license plate but the car was a black SUV. Looked like a Chevy model.”
“Your description matches what we got from some of the neighbors who thought they saw someone fleeing the scene that afternoon in a dark-colored sports utility vehicle,” said Bradford, “But unfortunately, it’s not enough.”
The guard furrowed his bushy eyebrows together in deep thought. “Wait, there was a pregnant, homeless woman that wanders the streets around here sometimes. She had a run-in with the driver that afternoon when the driver almost hit her. She probably got a better look at the vehicle and maybe even saw the suspect.”
“Well, that’s something to go on,” said Deek, “Where can we find this witness?”
“There’s a group of homeless people that squat in those abandoned rowhouses in Trinidad, N.E,” said the guard, “It’s cold today and when it’s cold outside or the weather’s bad, some of them go there to keep warm, or dry if it’s raining. You might track her down over there.”
“I know where you’re talking about,” said Bradford, “The doors on these abandoned houses are always broken open. We get complaints all the time from owners who can’t keep the homes boarded up. It’s easy for squatters to break in. Thanks, Mr. Todd, if you remember anything else, give us a call.”
Detectives Bradford and Hamilton jumped back into Bradford’s police-issued midnight blue Crown Victoria and sped off. They traveled down H Street towards the Trinidad neighborhood in Northeast Washington, D. C. The car slowed down in front of an L-shaped track of nondescript, brick red, graffiti-covered walls as the detectives peered out both sides of the window. Bradford told Deek how ten years ago when the housing complex was first built, a well-kept lawn of lush green surrounded the entire residential area. He said at one time there had been a park with functional playground equipment. Now, the swings were broken and the only thing standing on the basketball court was the backboard, and a dangling, net-less hoop that had been partially ripped off.
They continued slowly down the street, hoping to catch sight of the homeless, pregnant woman the guard had said might be a potential witness. Flanked by a twelve-foot high-wired fence and a forest of densely populated evergreens in the distance, the projects looked more like a maximum-security prison. A construction crew had left stacks of metal slabs, a bulldozer and a front loader on a nearby abandoned lot. A group of young men huddled on the lot but when they spotted Bradford’s car inching towards them, they ran.
The subsidized housing and abandoned dwellings that the detectives passed had been overrun by homeless people, thieves, drug users, and their dealers. Wasted young souls slouched in doorways, their youth and bodies used up by drugs. The homeless squatted in clusters with their bundled possessions close by. As he stared out the window, Deek felt a lump in his throat. He realized that at one time many of these people could have had jobs, homes, and dreams. Too many working people today were only two paychecks away from being in the streets.
Suddenly, something shadowy with a speck of red flashed from behind a dense thicket of poplar and catalpa bushes. B
radford slammed on the breaks and both detectives jumped out the car. The shadow fled but didn’t get far before Bradford and Deek caught up with her. She was pregnant. Her large, glassy eyes glared out at them with mistrust. She removed her red knit cap and twisted it in her hands.
“I didn’t do nothin’,” she stammered before the detectives could speak.
After Bradford and Deek introduced themselves and explained what they wanted, she grew even more reticent.
“What’s your name?” Deek asked.
“Belinda, but folks around here call me Billi.”
“Listen, Billi we just spoke to the guard at Galludet University. He told us you had an argument on Monday with someone fitting the description of our suspect. Could you tell us what happened?”
Billi folded her arms around her shivering body and stared at her scruffy shoes without answering.
“Do you have family anywhere?”
Billi shook her head.
“I can try to get you some help Billi if you let me. You should be going to a clinic for regular prenatal care,” said Deek. “Take my card. It’s got my number at the precinct and at FBI headquarters.”
Blind Delusion Page 33
