The Advocate - 01 - The Advocate

by Teresa Burrell

  “What about Peggy? Did you ask her why she has never mentioned Honey before?”

  “I sure did. She just said, ‘I dunno. It just never came up.’ I couldn’t get anything else out of her.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “You’ve been working with a detective in Atlanta on this case, right?”

  “Yeah. Joe Carriage.”

  “Do you think you could ask him to see what he can find out about Adelle Thompson? I have a request into Human Services, but it could take awhile. I can’t really ‘red flag’ it because there’s no indication she’s missing or anything. She’s probably with the cousin, but I’d sure like to know before the hearing on Monday.”

  “Sure. I’ll call Joe and see what he can do. I’m sure he’ll help if he can,” Sabre said. “Now, I better get out of here so you can get something done.” Sabre rose to leave. The phone rang again. She waited a minute to see if it had anything to do with her case. Marla answered the phone, spoke for a second, and then shook her head at Sabre. As Sabre walked out the door, she heard Marla dealing with yet another crisis.

  She got into her car and plugged her ear phone into her cell so she could talk and drive at the same time. She’d shut the ringer off while in Marla’s office. She had two missed calls and three messages waiting, two of them from Joe. She dialed his number.

  “Joe Carriage.”

  “Hi, Joe. How are you this afternoon?”

  He didn’t answer her question. “Sabre, I’m glad you called. There are some things happening here you need to know about, but first let me give you the information I have on Honey Stone.”

  “Okay—”

  “We’ve found no trace of any reports filed indicating this child is missing. There’s no death certificate filed on her. It seems Honey lived, at least part of the time, with some relative of Peggy’s. We don’t have a name yet, but …”

  “We have a name: Adelle Thompson. Peggy says she’s a cousin, but she couldn’t articulate the actual lineage. She supposedly lives outside of Atlanta. Peggy said she’s camping right now, but she had a story so riddled with holes we really have no idea. We were hoping you could follow up for us. We just want someone to see this little girl so we know she’s safe.”

  “I’ll do it right now. Let me call my partner; we’ll get an address, and I’ll call you back shortly.”

  “Sure thing. I’m headed back to my office. You can call me there or on the cell.”

  “Is someone else at your office with you? You shouldn’t be alone there.”

  “Yes. Jack’s there working, but thanks for your concern.”

  23

  With just a sliver of daylight, Joe and Brett looked for the number on the mailboxes. The houses, not well marked in the area, made it difficult to find Adelle Thompson’s house. They turned into what appeared to be the correct dirt driveway, with a trailer set back about two hundred feet from the highway. They drove past a pickup and an old Chevy coupe with more rust on it than paint. The Chevy had two missing tires and a broken windshield. The pickup didn’t appear to be operable, either. Junk littered the yard. A large German shepherd, tied to a sagging clothesline post, barked angrily at the approaching strangers. The only thing inviting was a swing hanging from a huge, old oak tree just to the left of the trailer.

  Joe and Brett stepped out of the car and walked to the door, kicking beer cans and bottles out of their way. Joe knocked. A wiry, skinny woman, who stretched to less than five feet tall, with a black eye and missing teeth, answered the door. “Are you Adelle Thompson?”

  A man yelled out from somewhere in the trailer, “Who the hell’s at the door, Adelle?”

  She yelled back, “I don’t know yet. I’m a askin’.” She turned back and said in a slurred voice, “I’m Adelle. Who are you?”

  In spite of the big wad of gum in her mouth and a screen door between them, Joe could smell alcohol on her breath. He held his badge up so she could see it, “Detective Carriage, Atlanta PD, and my partner, Brett Wood. We need to ask you a few questions. May we come in?”

  “Sure, why not?” Adelle said as she opened the screen door, still chomping on her gum. “Who else is here, ma’am?” Brett inquired.

  “Just my ol’ man. He’s layin’ down, not feelin’ too good, if you know what I mean,” she said.

  They stepped from the front door into the kitchen-living room area. Leftovers from several meals and dirty dishes covered the counter and the kitchen table. Empty Styrofoam containers and paper bags from fast food restaurants, half-empty coffee cups and ashtrays full of cigarette butts decorated the room. Dirty dishes soaked in a dark gray tub of scummy, stinky dishwater in the sink. Joe couldn’t decide which smelled worse – the dishwater and rotting food, or the cigarette smoke and alcohol permeating the air.

  The small living room contained a sofa and coffee table, a recliner, and a fifty-inch television, leaving little space to walk. Boxes and junk were crammed in the corners and piled waist high. A pizza box with one dried-up piece of pizza still inside sat on the coffee table with six empty beer cans and two full ashtrays. A half-eaten piece of bread with peanut butter and jelly lay face down on the coffee table next to a box of Marlboro Lights and a cigarette lighter with a naked woman on the casing.

  Adelle stumbled as she kicked aside the trash on the floor to make a pathway to the sofa. She grabbed a blanket, a pillow, and a pair of men’s dirty underwear off the sofa to clear a spot for the detectives to sit. As she picked up the items, an empty beer can rolled onto the floor and a piece of pizza fell from the blanket. She made no attempt to pick them up; she just threw everything down on the recliner and sat on top of them.

  “Have a seat,” she said, as she motioned toward the sofa. Joe sat down on the edge of it across from Adelle. She turned and looked back at Brett, “There’s room for you, too, dearie.”

  Brett was too uncomfortable to sit anywhere, and he wanted to be positioned where he could see down the hallway. He could hear someone snoring, but he didn’t know who else might be in there. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ve been sitting all day,” Brett said, cringing.

  Adelle took the wad of gum out of her mouth and stuck it on the side of the ashtray. She reached for the pack of Marlboro Lights, and popped a cigarette in her mouth. “Mind if I smoke?” Before anyone could answer, she lit up. “What are you here for? Is someone complainin’ about our mutt again? He ain’t done nuttin’ wrong. He’s been tied up for weeks, ever since he bit the mailman,” she slurred.

  “No, ma’am. We’re not here about your dog.” Joe said. “You have a cousin named Peggy Smith, correct?”

  “What’s that woman up to now?”

  “Actually, we need some information on her daughter, Honey. Is she living here with you?”

  “No, she ain’t here no more.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “She was wit’ Peggy last I knew.”

  “When did you last see her?” Joe asked.

  “Couple months ago, I guess.”

  “Where?”

  “At Peggy’s boyfriend’s house in Atlanta,” Adelle said. “She lived wit’ us a couple of years, you know. We had her more than Peggy did. Then ‘bout a year ago, Peggy started seeing her again. Honey would get real excited when Peggy came around, but Peggy never paid her no attention. Oh, she’d act all gushy over her, givin’ her kisses and stuff when she’d first see her, but then she’d just kind of ignore her. I still don’t know why, but that kid loves her mother. She wanted to see her real bad. So we started takin’ her over there every few weeks to spend a few days. Peggy’s boyfriend had a little girl who hit it off real well with Honey. Her name was Alex, or Alexie, or somethin’ like that.”

  “Alexis?”

  “That’s it … Alexis. She even tried to learn sign language so she could talk better with Honey. She’s a sweet little gal, that one. She’s the one who took care of Honey when she stayed there. God knows Peggy couldn’t do it.”

  “Why�
��s that?” Joe replied.

  “You kiddin’? She’s drugged out of her mind half the time. I tried to get her to stop that stuff. Been tellin’ her for years. I would say, ‘Peggy, yer killin’ yerself with that junk. If ya want to get a little high, have yerself a few beers. A few beers never hurt nobody, but that other stuff, ya can’t be doin’ that.’ But she wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t listen to nobody.”

  “You said you would take Honey to visit her mother. The last time you saw her, were you taking her for a visit?”

  “Yup. I took her over there to spend a couple of days. She was supposed to be comin’ back, but Peggy came by late one night and said she was keepin’ her. She said they were movin’ to California and Honey was goin’ with ‘em.”

  “Did she have Honey with her when she came by?” Joe asked.

  “Nope. I think her boyfriend, Murdock, was in the car, but he didn’t come in.”

  “Did you actually see Murdock in the car?”

  “I saw someone in the car. It was definitely a man and it looked like him, but I couldn’t be certain. It was too dark. But who else would it be?”

  “So, he stayed in the car and Peggy came in?”

  “Yeah, she just ran in and told us she was takin’ our Honey to California, and then she left, actin’ all crazy like.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. All anxious and jittery, probably comin’ down from somethin’ she’d done.”

  “Have you spoken to Honey or Peggy since?”

  “Nope, not a word. I didn’t even get to say good-bye to her.” Through tears, Adelle asked, “Ain’t Honey with Peggy?”

  “I haven’t seen Peggy,” Joe said. “I was asked to come by here and get some information.” Joe stood up. “Do you mind if we look around a bit, ma’am?”

  “Go ahead. I ain’t got nuttin’ to hide.”

  “I’d like to ask your husband a few questions also.”

  “I expect he’s asleep by now. If’n he is, you ain’t gettin’ him awake for nuttin’. That man could sleep through a bomb goin’ off.”

  Joe and Brett followed Adelle back to the bedroom, looking around for any signs of Honey. The door to a small bedroom on the left side of the hallway hung halfway off the hinges, and the room was piled with junk. Joe stepped inside, but he could only go about a foot and a half because no floor space remained open to walk. “That was Honey’s room when she lived here. Now we just use it for storage,” Adelle said. “Of course, I’ll clean it up when she comes back.”

  In a room at the end of the hall a heavy-set, unshaven man lay face down across the bed. Adelle shook him, saying, “Harry, wake up.” He just lay there. Except for the snoring, they would have thought him dead. “Harry,” she screeched in her shrill voice. “Harry, wake up. Some cops want to talk to you.” He stopped snoring for a minute, but he still didn’t move. She yelled again, still nothing. Adelle grabbed his shirt, shaking as hard as she could, still screaming at him to wake up. He moved a little and moaned, then turned over and within seconds started snoring again.

  With little room to maneuver in the small room, Joe felt claustrophobic. “It’s all right, ma’am,” he said. “It doesn’t look like he’d have much to say anyway.” Brett started to walk back down the hallway first. Joe stepped back and let Adelle go next, keeping an eye on his back.

  “You’ve been most helpful, ma’am. We sure appreciate it.” He handed her a card and said, “Please call me if you hear from either Peggy or Honey. Would you?”

  “Sure. Is she okay? Honey, I mean. Is there somethin’ wrong? They better not hurt her. I’ve been worried sick ever since they left – Peggy with her drugs and her fancy boyfriend with his gamblin’. Who knows what might happen to those kids.”

  “Are you talking about Gaylord Murdock? Is he a gambler?”

  “Yeah, that Murdock guy. Comin’ from all that money and everything. Peggy thought she had herself a good catch with that one, as far as the money goes and such, but he ain’t got no money. His folks do, but he ain’t got none ‘cause he spends it all gamblin’.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Peggy told me. She said he’s gettin’ worse and worse. He’s all mixed up with some thugs in Atlanta. I think that’s why they went to California. I think he’s hidin’ out, if you ask me.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about Gaylord?”

  “Nope, I only saw him a couple of times. He always acts real proper and such, like he’s too good for us. I didn’t like him much. He made me uncomfortable, but it never bothered Harry. He always says, ‘He ain’t no different than us, pees with his pecker just like any other man.’ Anyway, we never spent no time with them, never socialized or nothin’ like that. He was too good for that.”

  “Thanks again, ma’am. You be sure and call us now if you think of anything else we should know.” Joe looked at her black eye, no doubt in his mind where it came from. “And you be careful, ma’am. Take care of yourself, you hear?”

  “I will,” she said, but Joe knew nothing would change.

  24

  Sabre sat at her big oak desk, trying to focus on her tasks at hand. She grabbed the phone every time it rang in hopes it would be Joe with news he had found Honey Stone. Her mind refused to entertain any possibility other than that Peggy’s cousin, Adelle, had her. Her knotted gut, on the other hand, was painfully aware of the possibilities. The phone rang again.

  “Sabre, it’s Joe. I just left Adelle Thompson’s.”

  “Did you see Honey?”

  “I’m afraid not. She’s not there. According to Adelle, she’s still with Peggy.”

  Sabre’s heart sank. She imagined the worst. Silence followed while she tried to catch her breath. “Sabre, are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice quaking. She took another deep breath. “So Peggy says she’s with Adelle and Adelle says she’s with Peggy. Did Adelle seem credible?”

  “It’s hard to say. She was pretty drunk. Her old man had passed out already, and she had a fairly fresh black eye I expect came from him. I don’t think she hurt the little girl, but he may have done something to the kid. My gut feeling, though, is she told the truth.” Joe filled Sabre in on the details. “One more thing: Adelle said Gaylord is a gambler and he’s mixed up with some heavyweights. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No, it’s news to me.”

  “Well, Adelle didn’t like Gaylord much. I think his social status made her feel inferior. That may or may not have been intentional on his part, but she did feel put down. It could be she’s exaggerating what she heard from Peggy about the gambling. I’ll see what I can find out. Maybe the social worker could talk to Peggy about it as well.”

  “I’m sure Marla would be happy to.”

  Sabre thought about what she had learned from Ruby Sterling and wondered if Elizabeth’s disappearance had anything to do with Gaylord’s gambling. She thought again about telling Joe, but was too afraid for Ruby and Alexis if he weren’t clean. The more he helped her, the more she questioned his intentions. Yet, he seemed so sincere.

  Sabre’s thoughts were interrupted when Joe spoke again, “Sabre, there are some other things you need to know, for your own safety as well as Alexis’. There may not be a connection, but there have been too many coincidences for my liking.” Joe paused for a second, trying to figure out where to start. “I haven’t been totally honest with you. I told you my only interest in helping you was to protect Alexis, but the truth is I have my own agenda. I had an interest in helping you right from the beginning because of my friend, Steve.”

  “Who’s Steve?”

  “Steve Parker was my best friend through grade school and high school. He’s the reason I became a cop. He and his partner, Bill Davis, worked on the Elizabeth Sterling-Murdock case. He didn’t finish the case because he died in a car accident. When you wanted information on Elizabeth, I thought it might be a way for me to help Steve. He would’ve done the same for me. I gues
s I should’ve told you from the beginning, but it just didn’t seem important then.”

  “And now it does?”

  “Well, there are still a lot of unanswered questions, but I think my investigation of this case is ruffling some feathers. And if it is, I’m concerned it could lead to you and to Alexis. Here’s what happened — I went to go see Steve’s wife, and look through his records to see if I could find anything on the Sterling-Murdock case. I knew Steve would have taken his own personal case notes. I remembered Steve telling me about a riddle he had come across. It drove him crazy trying to figure it out. He wasn’t sure at the time if it had any bearing on the case, but he was determined to solve it and find out. Steve drove himself to solve any puzzle. It’s one of the things that made him an excellent cop.

  “Anyway, I recall his obsession with the puzzle he had found. He agonized over what it might mean. He would call and try to use me as a sounding board. I was so busy at the time, I got frustrated with him, but he kept hounding me. I knew he wouldn’t let up until he had it figured out.” Joe sighed. “He attacked this with a vengeance. He kept hitting me with bits and pieces, trying different angles to solve it. The night of his accident, he called and left a message saying he had figured it out. He said he would tell me when we met for coffee the next morning. But I never saw him again, because he was killed about twenty minutes later.”

  “I’m so sorry, Joe. I had no idea. What does it have to do with Alexis or me?”

  “Well, a few other things have happened since I read Steve’s notes. Several entries on his notepad indicated there might be some bad blood in the department. If it’s true, Steve’s death may not have been an accident. So, I put out some feelers and shortly thereafter someone broke into my house.”

  “And you think they were after his notes?”

  “I’m pretty certain of it, but I can’t prove it,” Joe said. “That same evening, someone ran my car off the road. They tried to kill me, much like Steve was killed. I think whoever did it probably figured if I didn’t die from the accident, I would certainly heed the warning.”