When Rain Falls

by Tyora M. Moody

  Darnell reached for the organizer. The woman had a BlackBerry and a regular calendar. Seemed awfully organized. Maybe that was why she was the best attorney money could buy. He flipped to the week in question. Only one entry had been scribbled in. Nothing about the art gallery. “It doesn’t seem like she used this much. Maybe her main schedule was kept on the BlackBerry.” He looked at the writing again, then at his watch. There was something familiar about the place mentioned. “You know, Pamela may have used this for more personal appointments. According to this, Pamela should have been at a Crown of Beauty Salon this morning. Women do talk. Somebody might be able to tell us some information, especially if Ms. Coleman was involved with someone.”

  Brunson’s piercing blue eyes clouded as he cleared his throat. “I’m sure Candace could help us out.”

  Darnell tried to decipher the exchange between his partner and the captain. They seem to be talking about something with their eyes. After a second, the captain frowned and responded, “Frank’s wife.”

  Brunson shook his head. “They were friends. I remember when Frank was ... She would be over at the house. She’s the godmother to the daughter.”

  Feeling like a kid shut out of grown-ups’ conversation, Darnell asked, “Candace. Frank. Who are these people?”

  “Frank Johnson. Now that was a real cop.” Brunson’s voice caught. “My partner for ten years. No one can replace him. Let’s go. If Candace knows, she’s going to be broken up.”

  Darnell watched his partner walk away, the words slicing him up inside. A real cop. No one can replace him. Well, that sealed the deal on how much his partner disliked him.

  Chapter Five

  On the way back to the styling booth, Candace recognized Hillary Green sitting in Beulah’s booth. The woman was a relatively new customer, thanks to Pamela. Her hair, a salt-and-pepper mix, was long and thick. She always requested the same bun, though. This defeated the purpose of Pamela’s mission to get the woman a makeover.

  “Mrs. Green, how are you today? Y’all keeping busy over there at the Harris and Harris Law Firm?”

  The woman looked up from her magazine and smiled at Candace. “We’re very proud of Pamela, as usual.”

  “She must have decided to go in to work today.”

  “Oh no, she had the day off.”

  “That’s what I thought. She should have been here by now.”

  Hillary’s eyes grew wide. “She didn’t mention she had an appointment. I did see her last night at the art gallery reception. Maybe she slept in late this morning. You know these court cases take a lot out of a person.”

  That was true, but Candace knew, no matter what, Pamela would be up at the crack of dawn. Tardiness really wasn’t Pamela’s thing, either. A sense of uneasiness flooded her body. Again.

  It was the dream playing tricks on her. Everything would be fine.

  Before she started rolling her client’s hair, she leaned closer to the booth mirror and played with the ends of her own hair. The chin-length bob was a good choice for her small facial features, but she missed her long hair. Frank loved her hair long. What he didn’t like was the makeup she wore.

  Couldn’t be helped. In order to hide her acne scars, she kept her caramel skin covered with makeup. Right now the almond cream foundation she was currently trying out felt stifling. Or maybe this was an official sign of premenopause. Who knows? Her whole sense of well-being had grown out of whack. She felt old. Old and worn, like her favorite brown loafers.

  Candace moved away from the mirror and grabbed a spray bottle filled with blue liquid and sprayed the setting lotion on the wet hair. One by one she added rollers. She looked up to catch Tangie strolling from the back office. It was time to get sista friend started on something. “Tangie, can you turn on the television in the waiting room and then start unpacking the new shipment of supplies?”

  For a moment, the woman hesitated in the middle of the floor but then turned toward the television. Candace shook her head. Tangie wasn’t quite thirty years old, but her behavior bore a strong resemblance to that of Candace’s sixteen-year-old daughter.

  In the mirror, she saw the television screen flicker to life, showing a yellow, spongy-looking figure dancing around the screen.

  Tangie clicked the remote.

  “Now we want to add a cup of ...”

  Click.

  “Lose weight with our ...”

  Click.

  Candace recognized the Channel 12 news anchorman. She turned her attention to Mrs. Roberts’s humming. “I need Thee, O I need Thee. Every hour I need Thee.”

  Candace always enjoyed listening to the woman’s melodies. Something about the songs stirred up pleasant memories.

  “O bless me now, my Savior, I come to Thee.”

  “Oh no!” Tangie yelled, interrupting Candace’s thoughts.

  Candace turned her attention to where Tangie stood under the mounted television. Her eyes locked on the image. She knew that face. Despite the ceiling fan moving softly above, her face radiated warmth. Behind her, Mrs. Roberts continued to hum, sounding louder.

  “I need Thee, O I need Thee.”

  She strained to hear the newscast.

  “Every hour I need Thee.”

  “Oh, my precious Jesus! Turn the volume up, Tangie,” Beulah yelped.

  The more the volume increased, the more difficult it seemed for Candace to hear. A tremor started in her hands, working its way up her arms, spreading across her chest. She felt so warm. Her body swayed and then crashed into the cart, scattering rollers, combs, and pins across the salon floor. Silence wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

  Chapter Six

  Any other time in his life, this many women hawking him would have been heaven sent. Darnell averted his eyes from the women now looking him up and down. He preferred the usual chatter found in most salons, instead of the funeral parlor atmosphere. In the corner a television played, with Pamela Coleman’s image on the screen.

  He smiled as he approached the counter, where an older woman sat on the phone. Now he understood why the name Crown of Beauty seemed familiar to him. Darnell walked up and flashed his badge to get her attention.

  “Miss Ann, let me call you back to reschedule, honey. Okay, you be good. Bye.” With wide eyes, the woman stared up at him. “Darnell Jackson, boy, you come here.” His aunt Beulah moved her ample body around the counter and squeezed him. She pulled back and checked him out. “I’ve been looking for you to come by and visit me for months now.”

  “Beulah, you do know I’m a busy man.” He peered down into his aunt’s round face, which looked so much like his deceased mother’s. Then he frowned. “Interesting look you got going on there.” It took a special kind of woman to wear a blond ’fro. His aunt definitely fit the mold. Always the more outgoing one compared to her more conservative sister, his mother. He rubbed his hand down his own low cut. “Maybe I’ll get you to do something with my hair.”

  Beulah smacked him slightly on his arm. “Boy, you ain’t changed none.” Her face turned serious. “Are you here to see Candace? I sure didn’t want you two to meet this way.”

  “Huh?” Darnell didn’t quite know what his aunt meant, but before he could find out, he was interrupted.

  “Beulah, is Candace here?” From behind Darnell’s shoulder, Brunson entered the salon.

  Peeking around Darnell, Beulah squealed, “Brunson, is that you?” She threw her arms around a surprised Brunson. “I’m so glad you are here. I can’t believe this. Darnell, why didn’t you tell me Brunson was your partner?”

  Brunson cleared his throat. “Beulah, it’s good to see you, too. You haven’t changed a bit, I see. So, how do you know Detective Jackson?”

  “I practically raised him. Well, okay, well, maybe not all that, but he is the man he is today thanks to my older sister. Bless her heart. You know you gave us—”

  “Uh, Aunt Beulah, I don’t think Brunson needs to hear all that.” Still astounded at how his aunt had managed to hug an old
fogy like Brunson, he noticed Beulah’s bright smile disappear. “I guess you two are here for more serious business. This is awful. We literally had to pick poor Candy up off the floor. How did this happen?”

  Darnell answered, “We’re still investigating, but I understand Pamela had an appointment this morning.”

  “Candace has been looking for her all morning. Those girls were tight. Kind of like flesh and blood sisters. Oh my, y’all be careful when you talk to her. This, Lord Jesus, this is the last thing Candy needed.”

  Following his partner toward the back of the salon, Darnell felt more apprehensive talking to this woman than to Pamela’s parents. Brunson knocked on the door.

  A soft voice answered from behind the door. “Yes, come in.”

  Though they were red-rimmed, Darnell couldn’t help but be drawn to her striking almond-shaped eyes, despite the smudged mascara. Her hair flowed easily around her face, with some falling over one side. He could tell she’d been crying for some time; her makeup appeared splotchy on the cheeks.

  He liked the natural look. What was the point in all that makeup?

  “Brunson.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Candace’s face as she stood. For the second time, Darnell watched as his grouchy partner received a hug. There must be something about Brunson he didn’t quite get, even though they’d been partners a little over six months.

  “Is it really true? Please say this is some type of mistake.” Candace’s eyes pleaded with Brunson; her voice trailed off into a whisper.

  Darnell stepped forward and stretched out his hand. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m Detective Darnell Jackson. Sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances.”

  As she turned toward him, he had a strange thought as their eyes met. Darnell would have liked meeting Candace Johnson without having to be the bearer of bad news. This woman had lost her husband and now a close friend, and she seemed to be taking it all in, or she was in shock.

  Candace reached out and shook his hand. Her hand was small and delicate in his. She slipped her hand out of his and sat down. Tears leaked down her cheeks.

  Seeing a box of tissues at the corner of Candace’s desk, Darnell reached for a few and passed them to her.

  “Thank you, Detective. You know, I waited all morning for her to show up.” Candace choked up. “I called her, like, a hundred times. I knew something was wrong.”

  Darnell said, “I’m sorry. This is a difficult time. Were you aware if Ms. Coleman had plans last night?”

  “I know she had some event with the law firm. Some client had an opening at an art gallery. She invited me, but I really was too tired to attend.”

  That confirmed what the parents, specifically Pamela’s mother, had said earlier. If she’d asked her friend to attend and her friend turned down the invitation, did that mean Pamela attended the event alone?

  A strangled laugh escaped Candace’s throat. “We’d just met for lunch yesterday. The lunch was really about her checking up on me.” Candace looked over at Brunson, then back at Darnell. “Pamela ... thought I needed to stop grieving.”

  Brunson barked, “What? It’s barely been two years.” His shoulders drooped. “Man, I’m sorry.”

  Silence consumed the room. Darnell assumed the uniformed man in the photo sitting on the shelf behind Candace was the deceased detective, Frank Johnson. Frank’s wife and his former partner appeared to cling to their own memories for a long minute.

  Darnell didn’t want to break the silence, but he still needed to get an idea of Pamela’s frame of mind. “You mentioned Pamela asked you to attend the art gallery event. Would there have been someone she took as a date last night?”

  Candace remained quiet.

  Darnell gently prodded her. “Anything you can think of is important.”

  “How did she die?”

  Not expecting the question, Darnell looked at Brunson. Was this a good idea? “Well, it’s early in the investigation, but we did find her at home. Do you know if anyone Ms. Coleman knew would have access to her home?”

  “Yes, her parents. I have a key. Never really had to use it. She normally likes to visit our home.” Candace put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “There is someone else.”

  Brunson spoke up. “Candace, are you referring to a relationship?”

  “Yes.” She blew out a breath. “We just talked about it yesterday. She told me it was over, but I didn’t believe her. Things just went on and on. No closure.”

  “Do you feel he would have harmed her?” Darnell asked, with his pen posed over his notebook. Give me a name to work with here.

  A hint of anger flashed in her eyes. “I believe he would have done anything to keep the relationship a secret. He had more to lose.”

  Chapter Seven

  Candace’s hands trembled as she turned the car into North Valley High School’s parking lot. Maybe she should have taken Beulah’s and Tangie’s suggestion to let someone drive her home. The modularly designed high school loomed ahead. Normally, it was only a ten-minute drive from the salon to the school, but the time seemed to stretch as Candace struggled to hold her composure and her tears. She pulled into the parking space outside the school office and turned the car engine off.

  Her body felt numb. Would her legs even hold her up when she climbed out of the SUV? She sat, staring out the windshield at nothing in particular.

  After the detectives left, she realized that she needed to be the one to tell her children the devastating news. Both Rachel and Daniel, especially her daughter, adored Pamela. In pursuit of her career, her friend had forfeited, with some reservations, marriage and a family. Not that Pamela didn’t have an opportunity. The woman was engaged to be married twice. In the midst of wedding plans, Pamela stopped everything. Twice.

  Why? Because there was only one man who’d captured Pamela’s heart. The same one Pamela had fallen in love with as a young college student. The same man who, years and years later, still had no intentions of divorcing his wife. In her anger, his name came to mind when the detectives questioned her. But would he really hurt Pamela?

  Why would anyone want to kill Pamela? She was the kindest soul. Beautiful. Candace squeezed the steering wheel so tightly, her fingernails made indentations in the leather. She can’t be gone.

  They’d just eaten lunch together yesterday. She could still picture Pamela. Professional, always feminine, her black pin-striped pantsuit fitting her slender physique just right. Candace had often joked about borrowing a few inches from her friend’s five-foot-eight frame.

  She thought back to yesterday’s conversation, remembering that at the time she thought Pamela was in a strange mood.

  “I probably asked you this before, but spare me. I am getting old, okay?” Pamela twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, like she had when they were both in eighth grade, right before a teacher scolded them both for interrupting class with their talking. “How did you know Frank was the one?”

  “I guess at some point I realized he wasn’t scary, like I thought most guys were. And he ... was a very patient and loving man.” Candace leaned in closer to the table, studying her friend’s face. “Why are you asking?”

  Pamela blinked, but she didn’t answer right away.

  “Pamela?” Candace narrowed her eyes. “What happened between you and Mr. You-Know-Who?” There were times when communication would cease between the two friends. Sometimes it had to do with Pamela’s caseload, but other times it was because Pamela wanted to keep certain activities from a disapproving Candace.

  “I thought you told me it was over? You know he’s never going to leave her.”

  Pamela’s eyes grew dark. “Okay, Candace, that’s enough.”

  “I’m concerned... .”

  “I’ve just been pondering some things, okay ? At my age, no man, no kids ... seems like all I do these days is play the what-if game. I want to be happy. I want what you and Frank had.” Under all that bravado, Pamela’s insecurities floated to the surface, leaving Candace speec
hless.

  What could I have said? Candace thought. Funny how Pamela had started the conversation, insisting that Candace should take care of herself and that Frank would have wanted her to move on.

  Wait, the call last night. She didn’t even mention that to the detectives. Probably because it had seemed so strange. That was just it. No way could she not mention the call. Pamela had been her friend a long time. They knew each other’s quirks, sometimes better than they knew their own. She would need to contact the detectives as soon as possible.

  For now, Candace reached in the car glove compartment and grabbed tissues to wipe her face. She glanced at her image in the rearview mirror. There was no way she could hide her grief. God help me, please. Her brief prayer seemed strange in her ears. She had attended church sporadically and had fallen into a rut, work and home, since Frank’s death.

  With the afternoon sun beating down, the car had grown warm. Candace climbed out. Even with two teenagers in her home, Candace felt lost and lonely. But she needed to be strong, especially now. Many, many years ago, the aunt who took her in and raised her had preached that God would give people strength in the time of trouble.

  Right now she needed to keep it together until her family was safely home. It would be a long, difficult weekend.

  Once inside the school office, she approached the secretary. “I’m Mrs. Johnson. I called earlier about signing my children out of school. We ... have a ... death in the family.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. Let’s see. Your daughter is currently at lunch, but your son is in second period. We will send a student to bring Rachel and Daniel up front right away. Can you sign here?”

  She could barely hold the pen, but Candace scribbled her signature as best she could on the clipboard. Ten minutes later Rachel walked through the door, followed by her brother. Normally, leaving school early on a Friday would have brought a sense of glee.