PJ said, "Damn, we don't even know it's her."
"Can't be two red Cadillac's in this area, got to be her. She must be home."
"Looks that way. Unless she's having an affair." Then PJ grabbed her notepad and said, "Wait, I've got her home address here somewhere." She flipped a few pages and then said, "5950 Gulfside Drive."
We had stopped on the narrow street several houses away and couldn't see a sign with a street name, but the house we were sitting in front of was numbered 5910. I pointed to the number and said, "Close enough for me. I'm willing to bet that Debbie is home."
PJ said, "Let's pay her a house call." Rolling her eyes she added, "Maybe she's reconsidered and she's dying to talk to us."
I pulled into the driveway and parked directly behind the closed garage door. We climbed the steep stairs to the deck that provided access to the street side entrance. The inside door was open and through the screen door we could hear music playing in a distant room. I didn't see a doorbell, so I rapped soundly on the screen door. During my second round of raps, we heard a woman's voice call out, "Hang on just a minute, will ya, I'll be right there."
A second later Debbie Chapman came around a corner from another room and approached the door. She was now wearing a tank top and shorts and was barefooted. She stopped short when she recognized us through the screen door. "What? What the hell are you doing here?"
PJ pulled the screen door open and we both remained on the deck, but firmly in the doorway. "We thought you might be willing to talk with us, now that you have had time to think about it some. I'm sure we startled you this morning, just showing up the way we did. I'm sorry about that, but time is really short and we really need your help. You're the only one who can give us a good picture of how things were in the Bennett household. We really . . ."
Debbie held her hand up in a stop signal and shouted, "I told you I didn't want to talk to you. Now you get off my property or I'll call the cops." That didn't take long.
"Please Debbie, we really need your help, you were Jessica's best friend, you must want to help." PJ's tone was pleading.
"Damn it, I said get out of here," screamed Debbie as she reached for the inside door to slam it in our faces.
"Deb, who is it? Is something wrong?" came from the woman entering the room from the same direction Debbie had. She was wearing a colorful beach coverup and had a towel wrapped around her hair as if she had just stepped from the shower.
Debbie said, "Nothing to worry about. These people were just leaving." With that she started swinging the door closed, but was blocked by PJ stepping inside. I was frozen to the spot on which I stood with my mouth gaping open. We had looked at so many pictures for so long, albeit dated ones, but there was no doubt.
PJ said, "Jessica? Jessica Parry?"
"I haven't used the name Parry for some years now, but I'm Jessica Bennett. Do I know you?"
CHAPTER FIFTY
Several weeks have passed since that day in the beach house on Cape San Blas, but it's forever etched in my memory. PJ's response to Jessica's question was, "I'll tell you who we are, we're the people attempting to assist the man who's going to be executed in a matter of days for your murder. Your murder! That's who we are." Contempt dripped from her voice and sparks shot from her green eyes.
Jessica looked confused as she asked, "What are you talking about, my murder?"
PJ shot back, "After you disappeared from Pineywoods, you were presumed dead, and Freeman Robinson was convicted of your murder and sentenced to death."
Jessica slumped to a nearby chair reminding me of a marionette whose strings had suddenly been severed. She whimpered, "How could that happen? How? Poor Freeman, why Freeman? I just don't understand."
Watching Debbie out of the corner of my eye I didn't see the same stunned reaction. Her arms were folded across her chest the way they had been in the restaurant and her face was nearly expressionless. Of course, these revelations were not news to her. Only a couple of hours earlier we had discussed Freeman's conviction and pending execution with her. She knew all along that he was innocent. Thought alone significantly increased the acid level in my stomach.
PJ dragged a chair up in front of Jessica, sat down and glared. "You disappeared over night. Freeman was the last person seen with you. Your panties and DNA were found in his car. It was presumed that he killed you and disposed of your body in one of the canals."
"Oh, my God. I never knew. I never wanted anything terrible like that to happen. I just wanted away from that town, away from Butch Bennett." Looking toward Debbie she pled, "Tell 'em Debbie, we never expected anything like that to happen. We never knew. We wouldn't let something terrible like that happen to Freeman . . . to anyone."
Debbie said softly, "Of course not Baby, you never intended anything like that to happen."
PJ glanced at Debbie with a hard scowl, but didn't say anything. She turned back toward Jessica and laid her hand softly on Jessica's knee. In her controlled motherly voice she asked, "Tell us about how you left Pineywoods, Jessica. Your car was found a short distance from your house and you just vanished. Tell us what happened."
Tears had started to leak out of Jessica's eyes and she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted away from there. Away from him." She paused and then continued, "Debbie and I planned it for weeks. She made a big deal about leaving town and I acted like I was really mad at her at the time. We knew Butch would find us if he knew we were together, so we acted like we had a big fight." I noticed Debbie starting to fidget as Jessica continued. "We wanted to make it look like I just vanished, so Debbie left first, but came back that night and picked me up. I never thought that anyone could be accused of murdering me . . . I mean, how could they without a dead body?"
PJ patted Jessica's knee again and replied softly, "Let's not worry about that now Jessica. We'll explain later, just continue please. Where did you go? How did you stay hidden?"
Jessica looked up at Debbie with watery eyes. "Oh, I could never have done it without Debbie. She really protected me. She helped me every step of the way. I knew Butch would be looking for me, so I used a false ID that Debbie got from a guy in Orlando for a couple of years. Then I legally changed my name back to Bennett and just kept a low profile. We figured if Butch was still looking for me he would be looking under the name Parry. I'd made such a stink about it when I changed my name to Parry that we figured he'd never think I'd return to Bennett. Most of our life is in Debbie's name anyway, the house, our cars, the big stuff like that." Suddenly she stood as if the seat cushion had shocked her, "Oh my God, what can we do to stop them from executing Freeman? We must be able to do something."
PJ had to slide her chair back to keep from being knocked over when Jessica rose so suddenly. Regaining her composure she said, "My partner is going to go outside and call the attorney representing Freeman and find out the answer to that question right now." I really wanted to stay right where I was and listen to the unfolding story, but knew PJ's assignment was the more appropriate use of my time. Besides, how could I resist when she had called me 'her partner?'
It took me several calls to track down Henry Higginbotham III and even longer to explain to him who I was and convince him that my call wasn't some kind of prank. Once he was assured, he took command of the situation and thirty minutes later he had made arrangements for a small plane to fly him down to Port St. Joe that afternoon. He arranged for a local law firm to support him with both ground transportation and video recording equipment to take an affidavit from Jessica. I had to admit that I was impressed with his decisive response.
I returned inside just as Jessica was explaining that while Butch had never actually sexually assaulted her she was certain it was only a matter of time. He had started to make inappropriate remarks and touch her in ways that made her uncomfortable at about the time she was twelve years old. That was when his drinking seemed to get more and more out of control and he started to lash out at Amanda and fin
ally Jessica. She said that her fear of him grew with each passing year and that she had started begging her mother to leave him. PJ asked why she hadn't left after she graduated from high school and Jessica said it was because she was still hoping to convince her mother to leave with her, but that Amanda kept saying that if they left Butch would find them and kill them both. She said that she finally ran away and had no contact whatsoever with her mother. She was afraid that if Butch found out that Amanda had contact with her he would make good on his threats.
It was obvious from her statements that Jessica had no idea of her mother's mental state or that she was in Greenhaven. Believing that this information would be disturbing to Jessica, PJ didn't mention anything about Amanda's situation until after Higginbotham had completed the affidavit. We were too close to the finish line to take any chances.
Higginbotham's arrival and the process of taking Jessica's statement extended into the evening, so there was no way PJ and I were going to make our scheduled flight home. I could see the stress of disappointing Angela on PJ's face and I came up with what I thought was an elegant solution. PJ would fly back to Fort Lauderdale with Higginbotham in the small plane he had chartered. I would drive our rental car back to Panama City, stay overnight, and take a flight back the next day. My suggestion earned me a kiss on the cheek and the title 'Prince' again. It's okay being her prince, but I'm still hoping for a promotion.
The days and weeks immediately following our discovery of Jessica Parry Bennett were a whirlwind of activity for PJ. The first action Higginbotham took with his video statement from the very alive murder victim was to request a stay of execution from the governor. His strategy was that the stay would assure that no unconscionable bureaucratic screwup could result in Freeman's execution while the courts considered his emergency appeal. It was amazing how after ten years of attempting to put him to death, the State of Florida couldn't seem to do enough to illuminate the cascading errors that had contributed to his conviction and sentence. I suspect that the fervor was fueled more by state criminal investigators who relished the opportunity to illuminate the incompetence of Chief Davies, coupled with the flames of unrelenting questions and allegations fanned by political opponents of Senator Bradford Palmer, than it was by a desire to make atonement to Freeman. Of course, the state could never really make atonement to Freeman for what had been taken from him, even if the will existed.
While there is no doubt that untold investigative hours will be expended on the entire fiasco, from the night of Jessica's disappearance through Freeman's conviction and sentencing, I harbor no expectations that anything of substance will result. I don't contemplate any charges coming out of even the clearly criminal actions of some of those involved, those who committed perjury or withheld evidence. The most egregious perjury came from Amanda and I can't see a prosecutor pursuing charges against her in the face of her fear of Butch and the necessity of Jessica's testimony. Jessica was certainly upset when she learned of Amanda's statements that she and Freeman were not dating, but being upset and testifying against your mother are two different propositions. Besides, I'm fairly confident that the statute of limitations has long ago run out on any applicable criminal charges. I'm sure some politician will grab the banner of reform to the criminal justice system, but once the media attention wanes the issue will die the quiet death of so many concerns that don't personally impact the members of our legislative bodies.
The person I would most like to see charged criminally is Bradford Palmer. I'm convinced that after our meeting in his district office he called Butch Bennett and told him that Amanda was talking to us. That's what prompted Bennett to visit Amanda and threaten her. I don't know if Palmer just manipulated Bennett, Butch isn't the sharpest guy around, or if Butch had been complicit in Amanda's perjury all along, but either way it means Palmer knew Amanda had committed perjury. I will always believe that Palmer was an active participant in the travesty of justice that was the wrongful conviction of Freeman Robinson. It was his duty as prosecutor not only to protect the public through aggressive prosecution, but to assure the integrity of the system utilized to pursue that prosecution. His transgression is unforgivable in my book.
During the height of the activity evaluating the investigation into Jessica's disappearance and presumed murder conducted by the Pinewoods Police Department, Windy told PJ that the replacement of their police chief seemed imminent. Windy's running exposé in the Trafford County Register had caught the eye of a New York Times reporter and ultimately a couple of television investigative reporting programs. Much to her chagrin, PJ's detective agency jumped at the opportunity to capitalize on all of the free publicity, again thrusting her into the media limelight. The senior partners of the agency agreed with my position that it was of no value to anyone to identify the involvement of a lowly bar owner in PJ's actions and consequently, as so many times during our investigation, I remained invisible. That was just fine with me.
I must admit that I would have enjoyed seeing the joy on Granny's face when Freeman arrived home after his release. They had talked several times on the phone during the judicial and administrative processes necessary to get him physically released, but he had asked her not to come to the prison. He told her he wanted every memory of him she had from that day forward to be of him free and at home, not in the death house. Higginbotham had insisted that PJ accompany him when he picked Freeman up the day he was released and drove him to Granny's house. PJ told me that the image of Freeman hugging Granny and spinning her around like a teenager in the driveway of the small Pineywoods house, tears of joy streaming down both of their faces, would always be one of her fondest memories.
PJ had alerted Dr. Burns to the fact that Jessica was still alive before Jessica was even told of her mother's condition. Dr. Burns had relayed the news to Amanda and later told PJ that her reaction had been surprisingly subdued with the simple reply, "'I just knew she was alive, deep inside my soul, I just knew. A mother knows these things.'" The cynical side of me can't help but question Amanda's portrayal of a traumatized woman in need of care. I will never be convinced that she didn't use Greenhaven as a comfortable place to hide from a world that contained an abusive husband and a courtroom where her lies had helped condemn an innocent man.
In retrospect, I can understand the motives of everyone complicit in this miscarriage of justice, except one. It's Debbie Chapman's head that I can't get inside. There's no doubt in my mind that she has known all along about the conviction of Freeman Robinson. I'm confident that with some investigative legwork people could be located who would recall contact with her in which Robinson's arrest and conviction was discussed. How she could allow an innocent man to go to the death house is beyond me. It was obvious as the details of Jessica's missing ten years were fleshed out that Debbie played a domineering role in her life. All I can speculate is that Debbie feared that if Jessica knew of Freeman's plight she'd be forced by her basic human decency to come forward and face her fears of Butch and that the result might be Jessica realizing that she could stand on her own two feet and was not dependent on Debbie. But, I'm no shrink so, who knows?
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Fortunately, my life has now returned to it's mundane routine around Cap's Place. The construction is finished, complete with refinished floors, repaired the bullet hole in the storeroom wall, and a purging of some of the wall decorations that Marge suddenly deemed too tacky. We now have live music, of various genres, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, with an accompanying increase in business. If I'm not more diligent in inserting myself into management around here Marge and Moe are going to make a thriving business out of this place.
With the exception of the thin scar running diagonally across one side of Moe's broad forehead, no visible signs remain of the frightening minutes we spent at the mercy of a deranged drunk with a gun. While the visible signs were relatively simple to erase from the building, I'm not so certain the terrifying memory will ever be erased from the subconscious of several
of us. Dana, still projecting her ever-feisty image, has been taking more and more time off and my worry is that she's having a difficult time dealing with the memories of that night. I've broached the subject with her a couple of times, but she always blows me off with some flippant comment like, "I never think about that night, except when you bring it up." I'm not buying that story for one minute. Hell, I've had nightmares, and I wasn't in near the danger Moe and Dana were that night.
It's mid afternoon and having worked through my lunch break running errands I've perched up on my favorite barstool to enjoy a hard earned burger and a Landshark. Dana had just set the beer down in front of me when my cell phone chirped at me. To my pleasant surprise, it was PJ. She told me that she was in the area and thought she would stop in Cap's a few minutes, if I was around. I was delighted and told her so. I hadn't seen PJ much since we found Jessica. Too many forces pulling her too many directions. I hoped that she hadn't forgotten my rain check, but hadn't even seen her enough to take a reading of the weather.
Dana had been standing behind the bar, obviously listening to my end of the conversation, and as I ended the call she retrieved my Landshark and replaced it with a Coke. She gave me one of her deadpan looks and said, "I'll tell Juan to forget the burger and get you a grilled chicken salad."
Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel Page 28
