“The hell I will just lie here and do nothing. Detective Hamilton, I hope you don’t think I’m going to stay in bed waiting for you to get home and not do anything to help solve this crime that your partner is trying to pin on Brenda. I’m not so sure her mother is innocent but I’m certain Brenda is.”
“Renee, how many times do I have to explain it to you? I have the training, shield and the gun,” he said, patting his weapon, “You don’t.”
Renee jumped out the bed, pushed passed him, and ran towards the bathroom to shower and get dressed. “Give me ten minutes. Don’t leave,” she demanded and slammed the bathroom door.
By mid-morning, the white snowflakes had lost their firmness and turned into wet mush. On the drive over to headquarters, Deek suddenly turned quiet. The only sound for several minutes came from the swish of the windshield wiper.
“What are you thinking, honey?” she asked.
“I was just thinking about Billi and her baby. I feel responsible, Renee. I should have insisted that she go to the clinic instead of continuing to question her when we first found her.”
“No, Deek. By then it still would have been too late to undo the damage of no prenatal care for nine months. It would have happened anyway. When she went into labor at the police station even if we were in route we would have lost the baby too because I wouldn’t have been able to safely deliver her.”
“I hope you’re not just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m being honest. Billi should have been receiving prenatal care. She had a serious medical condition that needed to be constantly monitored by an obstetrician. The city needs more local shelter space and services for the homeless, especially for women in Billi’s situation. You didn’t let her down, Deek, we all did.”
Renee placed her hand on his and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You smell so good, Darling. I meant to tell you that last night but I was a little distracted,” she smiled. “Is that something new you’re wearing?”
Deek took his eyes off the road long enough to turn to her and smile. “It’s a cologne called Lalique from France. Glad you like it, Sweetheart.”
“I do. It’s light yet spicy. The scent is so addictive. I can’t stay away from you,” she said and inched closer, placing her hand on his thigh.
“Hum. Well, in that case I’ll make sure to keep a steady supply on hand,” he glanced over and smiled. Deek was quiet for awhile. She studied the serious look on his face as he appeared deep in thought.
For the next few minutes, they both maintained their silence, each locked in private thoughts. Renee wondered if now was the right time to tell Deek that after she got home from the hospital yesterday, she called an adoption lawyer to look into the possibility of her adopting Billi’s baby or at least seek guardianship until adoption could be granted. Renee had fallen in love with the baby girl as soon as she’d laid eyes on her. She couldn’t stand the thought of her being a border baby or placed in a cycle of temporary foster homes.
A telephone call on Deek’s phone interrupted the silence and Renee’s private thoughts. He accepted the call using voice command on his hands free cell phone. It was Tyrone Wallace, the sixteen year-old kid that Renee had met through Deek during the summer and who Deek had befriended six months ago when he spoke at Tyrone’s high school on Career Day. Ever since Career day, Deek had slowly assumed the self-appointed role of father-figure to Tyrone who Deek had learned did not have a father in the household.
Deek’s tone of voice changed to denote male bonding. “Sure thing buddy, you know I’ll be there when you get signed in at Aberdeen. I’m your mentor, where else would I be?” he chuckled. Renee noticed that his face lit up whenever he spoke to Tyrone. “Hey man, you need me to get you any gear to take up there with you when you go?”
From the speakerphone, Renee heard the excitement in Tyrone’s voice. He rattled off things he would need like underwear, socks, sweat suits, and pajamas. Deek nodded as Tyrone went through his list of supplies that he’d have to bring with him to Aberdeen. Deek must have committed the list to memory since he didn’t write anything down. “No problem. I got it covered, My Man,” said Deek.
It was clear from the gist of the conversation that Tyrone would be going away to school soon, but when Deek hung up the phone Renee still asked him what all that was about. Just as she suspected, Deek had used his connections with someone at a quasi-military alternative school in Aberdeen, Maryland to find out if Tyrone would qualify for their highly successful program to train and mentor at-risk youth. Tyrone had just called to tell Deek that he received his letter of acceptance to Freestate Challenge Academy, where he would be living on-campus for the next 22 weeks as a cadet. Renee could see the relief on Deek’s face after his phone call from Tyrone.
She was already aware of Deek’s involvement with Tyrone over the summer to help keep the teenager occupied. He invited Tyrone to stay at his place from time to time. For the last few weeks of summer, he had enrolled him in a Youth Flight School sponsored by The East Coast Chapter of Tuskegee Airmen with his mother’s permission. But once the flight program came to a close, Tyrone’s mother reported that her son had resumed hanging out with the wrong crowd. A single-mom who worked two jobs and had two other younger children at home, she had her hands full. She welcomed Deek’s help and advice. The Freestate Challenge Academy sounded like a good opportunity for Tyrone and it would help take some of the pressure off his mom from worrying where her son was at night.
Not long after talking to Tyrone on the phone, Deek and Renee arrived at D.C. Police headquarters. When they walked through Homicide’s processing area, a uniformed officer informed Deek that Brenda Johnson and her mother had been brought in for questioning earlier that morning. Lt. Bradford was in the process of questioning Brenda in interrogation room one. Deek entered the interrogation room and politely asked his partner to step outside. Detective Bradford leaned across the table in front of Brenda and shoved a notepad and pen in front of her.
“In case your memory comes back while I’m gone,” he snarled at Brenda and left the room to speak to Deek.
The two detectives returned to the open bullpen area of desks positioned in rows against the walls. Lt. Bradford sat down at his own desk while Deek loomed over him and tried to hide his annoyance.
“Mel, I told you I was on my way when you called. How long has Mrs. Johnson been in there?”
“Since about nine-thirty. I sent a uniform detail out to the Adams residence this morning and she agreed to come in for questioning. I explained her rights when she got here. She said she understood and waived her right to legal counsel.”
“Yeah, I bet you did everything by the book.”
“Of course, Kid, you know me. Playback the goddamn tape if you don’t believe me,” said Bradford, “Besides, lately your ass is always MIA—between the FBI and your extracurricular activities. I can’t afford the luxury of dragging my ass on this case waitin’ for you to show up.”
“Have you found out anything important?”
“Hell no. She claims she wants to help us figure out who really murdered her husband. But all I’ve heard so far is bullshit. And she’s real closed mouth about the insurance money she collected when her first child died nine years ago.”
“Where’s Mrs. Adams, her mother?” asked Deek.
“I’ve got her cooling her jets in box three. Talk about nutcases, that dame’s a class act.”
“One guess who ratted out her own daughter so she could collect 25 grand in reward money for information about the case,” he said, leaning back and resting his clamped hands behind his balding head. Renee looked shocked to hear that but Detective Bradford’s nod and sly grin confirmed that he was referring to Brenda’s mother.
“Are you saying that Mrs. Adams actually called to tell police about her daughter’s unfounded charge of insurance fraud nin
e years ago?” said Renee, “That’s unbelievable even for her.”
“It didn’t exactly happen that way,” Bradford said, then took a bite of powdered donut that he retrieved from a bag on his desk.
“Mrs. Adams got her flunky lover to call the tip line. Some idiot who goes by the name of Hercules. I guess she figured she’d collect that reward money her husband put up a lot sooner than she could wrangle a few coins away from her daughter outta the fifty thousand dollar death benefit.” White flecks of powdered sugar dotted his mustache and avocado green shirt as he spoke between chews.
“I guess it finally dawned on her that insurance companies don’t pay out when fraud is suspected. Anyway, last night she sent her 6’ 5” 300 pound dimwit over here to claim the reward. It took less than two seconds to bust his game. Hercules confessed that Mrs. Adams put him up to it then broke down and cried.”
“So her plan backfired,” said Renee.
“Exactly. It just made me suspect her motives even more. I must say you were right about that one, Doc,” said Bradford, between bites before continuing. “When I threatened to arrest Hercules if he didn’t talk, he started blabbering faster than a parakeet on Ritalin. Said Irene Adams owed $20,000 in credit card debt and her husband cut off her allowance.”
“Did you arrest this Hercules?”
“Naw, I shoulda booked him but I figured he had enough problems dealing with that crazy Adams broad,” said Bradford, “But she knows I’m onto her slick ass now. She’s in room number three sweatin’ bullets by now.”
“I don’t understand how she could do that to her own daughter?” said Renee, shaking her head.
“Actually, she was trying to hang the crime on her son-in-law’s ex-girlfriend when she told Hercules to report the information to us,” said Bradford, “But I dug deeper and got the whole story.”
“That still doesn’t let her off the hook,” said Renee. “She’s got about as much maternal instincts as my shoe.”
“Mrs. Adams thought her tip would lead us to suspect Leenae Lewis. What she didn’t expect was that the media would find the case of a wife allegedly killing her husband to collect fifty grand a more interesting scoop,” said Bradford, “Her meddling ended up hurting her daughter instead of Jerome’s ex-girlfriend.”
“Are you planning to tell us what happened Mel or do we have to guess?” said Deek.
“That’s what I stopped by to tell you last night, Young Blood, but you told me to get the fuck out, remember?” he said, grabbing another donut.
“Basically, the short and sweet of it is this. Leenae Lewis and Jerome Johnson were charged in a mail fraud bust out scheme nine years ago.”
“What’s a bust out scheme?” Renee asked.
“Leenae’s brother, Davon Lewis owned a retail bargain store in Northeast where he ran a “wholesale jobbing business” in the store’s back office. Davon convinced his sister and Jerome to use phony credit cards to help him buy merchandise wholesale and then resell it to other “mom and pop” retail stores. They bought everything on credit with no intention of paying their wholesalers. Essentially, they sold the goods, kept the money, and Davon declared his business bankrupt after he made a nice profit.”
“Davon Lewis, the mastermind behind the bust out, claims to be his sister’s alibi,” said Deek, “Just how reliable do you suppose that corroboration is?”
“Not very in my opinion,” Renee said, “Were they convicted for this scheme, Lt. Bradford?”
“Police records show the charges against Miss Lewis and Mr. Johnson were ultimately dropped but Davon Lewis had a previous record of insurance scams against him and the jury convicted him of mail fraud.”
“But how did the tip from Mrs. Adams’ boyfriend lead you to find out about Brenda?” Renee asked.
“Coincidentally, that was around the same time the first Johnson baby died of SIDS and Brenda Adams collected $15,000 on the baby’s insurance death benefit. When I checked out Hercules’s tip, that stuff about Brenda rose to the surface like fat in cold soup.”
“In addition to reporting the Lewis-Johnson case, the newspapers headlined the story about the then unwed mother, Brenda Adams collecting a death benefit after the sudden death of her and Jerome Johnson’s infant daughter.”
“So the whole thing smelled rotten to the press,” said Deek, “that’s why they dug deeper.”
“Leenae Lewis and her brother may be inventing a fairy-tale about their whereabouts, but my instincts tell me either Brenda Johnson or her mother planned this latest insurance fraud or they hatched the scheme together,” said Bradford. “It’s no surprise that Mrs. Adams hopes to get a nice chunk of change if we can’t convict her daughter.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Irene Adams, but Brenda is innocent,” Renee insisted.
“One thing seems certain, the victim had a lot of enemies,” said Deek, “Now we got Davon Lewis doing time for mail fraud nine years ago while his partner, Jerome Johnson walked.”
“Tell me, Dr. Hayes, how did this dude, Jerome Johnson, a drug addict who didn’t have a pot to piss in, get two fine honeys to lose their mind over him?” asked Bradford, “One at home and one on stand by when I can’t even get an ugly woman to give me directions.”
“I wouldn’t want to comment on your personal failure to attract women, Lieutenant,” said Renee, “But Jerome probably appealed to women because he projected a ‘bad boy’ image. From dealing with love-obsessed female patients, I’ve discovered that their attraction to ‘bad boys’ is one reason these women are in therapy in the first place. They always seem to go for the ‘bad boy’ over a nice, clean-cut, stable guy. Not that you’re ‘the nice, clean-cut’ type either Detective Bradford.”
“Sorry, I asked,” he said looking dejected.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Brenda for a moment. May I?” Renee asked Bradford.
“Be my guest, Doc. She sure as hell ain’t opened up to me yet,” he said. “Me and Deek can watch from the observation room. She won’t know we’re behind the two-way mirror and might tell you something she wouldn’t say to me. So that’s probably not a bad idea.”
Renee opened the door of the interrogation room and walked in. Brenda didn’t look up. The room felt like an isolation chamber: bleached-out gray walls, no windows or telephone—nothing but a table and three uncomfortable chairs. A tape recorder, some paper for her statement, and a cup of water sat on top the black, metal tabletop. Brenda sat shivering at the far end of the room. She looked uncomfortable and frightened slumped forward in a straight-back wooden chair with elbows on the table and her hand barely holding up her drooping head. Renee didn’t see a thermostat to turn up the heat and noticed that the four, bare walls didn’t even have a light switch.
“Brenda?”
When she recognized Renee’s voice, Brenda jerked her head up.
“Dr. Renee? I’m so glad you’re here. Have you seen my mother? The son of Satan lied and said she went home but I don’t believe him. She wouldn’t leave me alone in this place.”
Renee couldn’t argue with Brenda’s new nickname for Detective Mel Bradford. It somehow did seem to fit. She was glad she didn’t have to outright lie and just shook her head ‘no’ to Brenda’s question because she really had not seen Irene Adams yet. Renee took Brenda’s hands in both of hers to warm them and tried to console her.
“Brenda, I realize it’s hard but can you tell me what happened to your first child nine years ago?”
Brenda hesitated for a moment before speaking in a whispered voice. “Dr. Renee, little Janica’s death still haunts me to this day. That’s why I’ve never talked about it to anyone, but since it’s plastered all over the news I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
She looked down and closed her eyes briefly. “It was really hard on Jerome too. That’s when he first started experimenting wi
th crack. Before that he only smoked weed but he needed something stronger to wipe out our baby’s death. I had my Lord and Savior to see me through it, but Jerome had never been strong in faith. After it happened, we never talked about it. But things were never the same between us.” Renee nodded for Brenda to continue.
“I know you’d say that wasn’t healthy to keep it locked inside, but we wanted to forget. Even though the doctors said Janica died from Sudden Infant Death syndrome and there was nothing we could have done to prevent it, I think we blamed each other. It’s something I never wanted to talk or think about ever again. Even when Baby Buddha was missing for almost 24 hours, I wouldn’t allow myself to think, what if it’s happening all over again. I had to believe I would get Justin back. Or that would have been the end for me. There would have been no point in me going on. After the loss of my first child, any time the memory came back, I blocked it out again as if it never happened. I guess Jerome tried to forget too and drugs became his crutch. I know he was still hurting. I guess that’s why I kept taking him back.”
“I understand, Brenda,” said Renee, and looked softly into her eyes. “I really do, more than you realize.” Renee thought about her own teenage pregnancy that was stolen from her while she slept in an anesthetic state. From that time on, she had never been able to successfully carry a pregnancy to term. Renee thoroughly understood the need to erase bad memories through disassociation.
“We broke up soon after Janica died but got back together five years later. Then I got pregnant with Justin. He was our second chance. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.”
“What did you do with the $15,000 insurance money you received after Janica’s death?”
“That was nine years ago. Before we lost our daughter to SIDS, I was an unwed, 19 year-old mother, Dr. Renee. When I got pregnant I dropped out of community college to move in with Jerome. I had only finished one semester. My parents disapproved and refused to help if I didn’t go back to school and give the baby up for adoption. But I just couldn’t give her up once they put her in my arms,” said Brenda, “Besides, Jerome and I were in love. Or at least I thought we were.”
Blind Delusion Page 40
