Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger

by Grant Fieldgrove

  “I think she is telling the truth. I think she saw exactly what she said she saw. We really need check out the stalker though. I have a feeling.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t a dead end? It doesn’t really seem to have anything to do with what you saw at the beach. And this is years old…”

  “Like I said, I have a hunch. It could turn out to be nothing but I feel it at least warrants a look. Come on, let’s take a look around here before we leave.

  We walked to the side of the house and saw a large brick stone wall that surrounded the property. The garage was big enough to hold three cars and I tried to peak into a window on the garage door but they were up too high. I wasn’t having much luck here, so I snapped a few pictures on my phone and told Elise I would buy her a late lunch so we could figure it out.

  ***

  Inside, Inez Valenzuela picked up the home phone and dialed a long distance number.

  “Hello,” a man answered.

  “Yes, Mister Jackson,” Inez said. “I jus’ had two reporters leave the house. How you know I be having someone ask me about jor wife today?”

  “Just call it a hunch, Inez. Just call it a hunch.”

  13.

  We drove to The Grove on 3rd and Fairfax to get some dinner. The area was the old Farmer’s Market that had been built up to a nice, quaint and classy little shopping center that featured several restaurants, a movie theater and plenty of shops. Marianne and I came here on several occasions. We had places similar to this in town, but the class of people was much better here which is why we were willing to make the drive so often. The very first time we tried to come here though, I decided I didn’t need any directions, so we ended up driving around Los Angeles, totally lost, for almost eight hours without ever once getting out of the car. My frustration was ridiculous and I could tell Marianne was getting quite annoyed with me. We ended up just getting back on the freeway and heading back to town and having dinner at the Olive Garden three miles away from our house. I drove for so long, my right foot was cramped and I could hardly walk once I exited the car. This was years ago before smart phones and every bit of information at your fingertips. The next day though, I was the proud owner of a GPS system. The same GPS system that is still currently in my car back home. The same GPS system that cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars but is now available for like forty bucks or some shit.

  Anyway, we decided to eat at the Cheesecake Factory just because the dessert sounded so delicious. Elise checked in with Jamie and the kids and it turns out they were going to go see a movie at the local drive-in down there. I’m not going to lie, I was quite jealous. Stupid Brad Jackson. More like, Brad Ass-son…or something.

  We had just placed our order when Detective Anderson called me back. He had the same information that Max had gotten me, but in addition to that, he was able to score stuff from the police report.

  “Tell me what you’ve got, Detective.”

  “Okay, so the lady that killed Annette Jackson is named Emma Ricks. She’s thirty-eight years old and there was a restraining order out against her from the Jackson’s.”

  “Yeah, that I knew.”

  “Right. Okay, well the story goes is that this broad was stalking and harassing Mr. Jackson. Apparently, she would show up outside of his house at night and do all other kinds of crazy shit. She would say the stereotypical stalker shit like If I can’t be with you, no one can, and stuff like that, which he naturally took as threats against his life. Hence the restraining order.

  “She wasn’t allowed anywhere near him or his property, so that’s why when the housekeeper saw her she went into the main house to tell Mrs. Jackson and call the police. Only problem was Mrs. Jackson was already dead.”

  “Right. I just talked to the housekeeper.”

  “You did what? You talked to her? How?”

  “I have my ways, Detective. She told me the same story and I didn’t pick up on her being a liar. I’m usually pretty good at that.”

  “Except with that redheaded bitch.”

  “Ouch.” That one stings.

  “So, you said you wanted to talk to Emma Ricks, right?”

  “Yeah, I would. I don’t know if it will do me any good but I just don’t want to leave any stone unturned, ya know. I just don’t know how I’ll get to her.”

  “How soon can you be in L.A.?”

  “Actually,” I said, “I’m here now.”

  “Well, you’ve got a meeting with her at the jail tomorrow morning. I set it all up. I know the warden, we’ve met on several occasions and he provided me with a little professional courtesy, as they call it.”

  He gave me all the details on the meeting and I ended my call with him.

  “What?” Elise asked.

  “Looks like we’re shackin’ up here, tonight.”

  She raised some concern over the kids still being at the beach, but another phone-call to Jamie put that to rest. She was fine with watching them. I don’t know how she does it. Managing three kids like that. I would lose my mind. I guess that’s just one of the many reasons that women are vastly superior to men.

  “Oh hey,” I said. “Guess where we’re staying tonight.”

  “Where?”

  “A HOTEL!”

  “Okay.”

  “Yay! Faced! Whatcha think about that, beyotch?!”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Oh. Great. Let’s order. Fatty hungry!”

  ***

  After gorging ourselves with dinner and dessert, Elise suggested we walk to the Gap at the end of the shopping center and pick up some fresh clothes. We didn’t plan on staying the night when we left.

  “Here you go,” Elise said to me as we entered the store, “it’s time for you to get some clothes that were made this century.”

  “Ugh, fine.”

  Elise went to the women’s side of the store while I wandered around the men’s department totally lost.

  V-neck tshirts? Get real.

  There is no way I’m wearing that. I’ll settle for a button-up shirt and an undershirt. No need for new shorts, the ones I’m wearing are just fine.

  I grabbed a shirt, guessed at the size and took off to find Elise. She was in the underwear section on the far side of the store. UNDERWEAR!

  Back in the men’s department I grabbed three pairs of the most ridiculously priced boxer briefs I’ve ever seen then went back to round up Elise who had her arms filled with way more clothing necessary for a brief prison visit. I was pretty upset that I wouldn’t be able to wash my underwear before wearing them, though; as I have this odd hang-up about wearing clothes right off the rack. I realized I had no other option though when Elise offered to throw them in a digesting laundromat washing machine.

  “Barf! No thank you!”

  “You realize that the clothes and the machine come out clean at the end of every cycle, correct?”

  “Well, they’re not cleaned with fire, which is about what it would take for me to put my clothes in one of those disgusting pieces of shit.”

  Argument over. Apparently, I won.

  It was time to go.

  Gina, who was working the register and had a nose like one of those creepy beak masks from Eyes Wide Shut, took our money with a nice smile and a thank you and we were on our way to the closest hotel. We didn’t have to drive very far before settling on a nice looking place. We went inside, got one room with two queen beds, and retired for the night. We had to meet with Ms. Ricks early tomorrow morning.

  14.

  We had a little over an hour drive ahead of us when we checked out of the hotel and headed to the California Institute for Women, in Corona, where Emma Ricks would be waiting to talk to us. I was shocked to notice that we actually arrived early, despite two separate stops demanded by me. One for a Rockstar and another one to pee it out. Apparently, I have the bladder of a little girl.

  We pulled into the visitor center of the prison, got out of the car and proceeded to look around and take it all in. Shawshank th
is was not. In fact, the prison itself was about as exciting as a Hostess donut. It was nothing but big, drab gray buildings set in to what appeared to be a giant circle. I had no idea where to go. I let Elise take charge.

  After going through the usual motions of entering a prison, we were finally sitting in the visiting area, which looked, actually, exactly as they do in the movies. Elise and I were directed where to sit by one of the guards and told our prisoner would be out shortly.

  We took a seat in the little cubicle and waited. There was a small table, a thick pane of glass and of course, a telephone in front of us. Actually, there were two phones on our side and one on the prisoner’s side. While we waited, I tried to listen to other peoples conversations without much luck. I was already bored and my mind wandered to an old episode of The Adventures of Superman where Clark and Lois visit a man in prison, just like this, and Clark figures out the man is innocent and telling the truth by using his super-hearing and noticing the man’s heartbeat never speeding up while talking. I hoped I would be able to deduce something similar here. It was time to find out.

  A buzzer sounded and a guard on the other side of the glass opened up a door and out stepped a slender woman with blond hair, dressed in her prison outfit. I assumed it was our girl even though I have never seen a picture of her. My assumptions were correct. Emma Ricks took a seat directly across from us on the other side of the glass and picked up the phone. I did the same.

  “Who the fuck are you?” she asked.

  “Now that’s my kind of greeting,” I said. “Ms. Ricks, my name is Archie Lemons and this is my partner Elise Reynolds.”

  “Okay,” she said. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Elise had picked up the other phone and answered the question. “Mr. Ricks, we are here in regards to your case that landed you here. No one is with us and we’re not working with the police on this, we’re actually freelancing this case.”

  I wasn’t sure if freelancing was the correct term she needed to use, but I let it go. She continued.

  “We have reason to believe the man you were stalking may not be as innocent as everyone seems to think and we were wondering if you could shed a little light on your side of the story for us.”

  Shed a little light? Was that right? Shine? I don’t know. I let it go, again.

  “Yeah, well,” Emma said, “what do you want to know? I’ve told them everything, the truth, and no one believed a goddamn word I said and now I’m here.”

  “I know that, Ms. Ricks. And like Elise here said, we want your side of the story. We didn’t follow this trail at all and have no idea. We just want to hear what happened.”

  “Fine. This was years ago, though,” she said. “I had the hots for Brad Jackson, as I’m sure you know. Shit got out of hand and I actually found out where he lived and started showing up at his house and following him around. I’ve admitted to this several time. I wanted him to love me. I know it may sound silly to you, but to me it felt so real. The love I had for him.”

  “Did you hold any animosity towards his wife?” Elise asked.

  “I can’t say that I didn’t, that would be a lie,” she said. “She was in the position that I wanted to be in. I hated her without ever even meeting her. Some nights I would park outside of their house and just stare, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brad. They had this big beautiful house out near Beverly Hills. Sometimes I would see his wife leave and I would fantasize about getting out of the car and jumping her, then go and confess my love to Brad and he would see that his wife was all wrong for him and he belonged with me.”

  “You admitted to all of this in court?” I asked.

  “Stupidly, yes,” she answered. “I had this crazy belief that justice would prevail and I would be found innocent, like I am. However, it didn’t really pan out for me. The jury took less than thirty minutes to convict me. I never even stood a chance. I had shitty defense and I was convicted before the trail even started.

  “Brad Jackson was a superstar, everyone loved him, and getting an unbiased jury was all but impossible. All anyone knew was that his precious wife was stolen from him and I was the most obvious fall guy for it, so it was all unloaded on me and all of the sudden I was the worst person in the world. No matter what shitty defense my piece of shit lawyer provided for me, it would never be enough. Every single person in America just KNEW I did it and nothing could convince them otherwise.

  “It’s funny, isn’t it, Mr. Lemons?”

  “What is?”

  “The fact that so many guilty people get to walk free because they are celebrities or sports stars or some shit, all the while I know I am innocent, yet here I am, with a life sentence and OJ is out playing golf and doing whatever the hell he does. Just doesn’t seem fair.”

  “I know, Ms. Ricks, that guy is guiltier than shit. And, I used to love that show Fall Guy. Did you ever watch it? ‘

  Blank stare.

  “Lee Majors as Colt Seavers…No?”

  Blank stare from Ricks with the added bonus of a look of utter bewilderment and stupidity from Elise. I cleared my throat. “Is there anything else you can tell us about the case?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I looked her over and tried to think of something to ask. Truth is, I honestly didn’t know what I was hoping to find here. I studied her appearance and body language. She looked beaten down and broken. At one time, she would have passed for a semi-attractive woman who probably wouldn’t have had a hard time finding a good man. It seems unfortunate that she decided on Brad Jackson. It proved to be her greatest mistake and pretty much cost her her life.

  She had only been in prison a little over four years, but her face had a ragged look to it that would suggest a lot longer. Times were probably not very pleasant for her in here, especially if there were any Brad Jackson fans currently in lock-up.

  Her eyes were dark and gave the impression of being dead and she had a few small wrinkles at the ends of both of them. I learned those were called crow’s feet, and I also learned (the hard way!) that you should never point them out to women. I glanced over the rest of her body while I still thought of something to ask. I noticed her fingers were bent in an odd position.

  “Ms. Ricks, may I ask what is wrong with your hands?”

  “I have bad arthritis in both of them. Had it for years, nothing can really fix it. It’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Did you have this arthritis during the period of the murder?” I asked.

  “Yes, and long before, actually. This was one thing my shitty defense actually brought up. How could I hold a knife and stab a woman with my fucked up hands? It wasn’t much help, though. I had no problem holding their little prop knife, so that actually backfired on me and made things even worse for me.”

  “Hmmm.” I thought for a while before proceeding. “So, you admit to stalking Mr. Jackson, and having fantasies about his wife being gone and you two being together, but you do not admit to murdering him, correct?”

  “Yes, Mr. Apples. That is quite correct. I have never hurt anyone before and I certainly didn’t kill that woman. I thought it about, sure, but I would never have acted out on it. I’m sure everyone has had thoughts of murder before, a boss or an enemy, it doesn’t mean you would actually follow up on it.”

  Apples?

  “Ms. Ricks,” Elise said. “Where were you on the night of the murder, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “That’s another thing,” she answered. “I was at his house for a while, and then went home, with no witnesses and no alibi. Like I said, I’m not proud of what I did to that man, and I know based purely on my story I look guilty as sin, but I know for a fact that I didn’t kill her, which means whoever did is out there walking around.”

  “Why were you at his house that night?”

  “Same reason I was there all the time. Just to see him. Catch a glimpse of him. I was breaking my restraining order, I knew it, but I didn’t care. At one point, I even got out of the car and snuck up to a
front window and peeked in. I saw the wife alive and well and absolutely no sign of Brad, so I left. I know that I was not seen by anyone! If that housekeeper says she saw me then she is either lying or mistaken. I was out of the car for less than one minute, in the pitch darkness with no one around. I was NOT seen!”

  The bugs under my skin were beginning to crawl again. I was missing something crucial but I couldn’t seem to put my finger on it. What is missing? What is the missing piece?!

  “Did you ever see anything unusual at the house before that night,” I asked as a quick follow-up question.

  “Nothing that I can really think of.”

  “Did you ever see the couple fighting or anything like that?” Elise asked.

  “Nothing beyond normal marital fights. About a week before the murder, she got pretty fucking pissed about something and stormed out of the car. I wasn’t sure what she was so mad about. Brad was in the house with one of his buddies, his wife comes home, and then fifteen minutes later she’s pissed and storming out. Brad made no attempt to go after her and shortly after that his friend left.”

  “Is there anything you can tell us about the friend?” I asked. I always love when new people are introduced.

  “No. He was just a buddy, I assume. I had seen him hang out over there a couple of times. I saw the two of them playing video games in the living room once, too. Imagine that, grown ass men playing video games like children.”

  “You didn’t recognize him or anything. He wasn’t anyone famous?”

  “I didn’t recognize him then but I did recognize him in court. He was there, in the crowd of people watching my life being taken from me. In fact, he smiled at me several times during the trial. Skinny little wimp, I wanted to jump up and rip his fucking face off every time he gave me that little fucking smirk!”

  “Calm down, ma’am,” Elise said. “Getting angry won’t get you anywhere. We are here to help, remember?”

  “Help with what?!” she yelled. “I’m in here and the real murderer is out there! No one believes me or wants to believe me! I am fucked! I am going to live out the rest of my shitty life in this goddamn prison and die here, and there aint shit you or him can do about it.”