Betrayed (35 page)

Brenda's smile was weak. “Thanks, Mimi,” she whispered in her ear. They released each other and it was Raphael's turn to give Brenda a hug.

“If there's anything we can do, let us know,” Raphael said. “We're on our way to see Afrika.”

Asia ignored Mimi and Raphael and went through the turnstile and waited outside for Brenda.

“It's going to take Asia a while to sift through her pain,” Brenda offered. “Don't take offense; it's been hard on her—her father being killed and finding out about you and Victor, Mimi,” Brenda lowered her eyes, “and that Afrika is her sister.”

Mimi offered a half-smile but didn't look at Raphael, who stood by expressionless. “We understand. We've got to check on Afrika. I'll stop by later and bring you a dish.”

“Thanks, Mimi,” Brenda said. She watched as Mimi and Raphael
strolled out of sight. Then she turned and saw Asia standing outside with a scowl on her face. “Victor didn't deserve to die,” Brenda mouthed to herself, “but what goes around comes around.” She walked through the turnstile to a waiting Asia.

“H
as anyone seen Marshall?” one of the detectives in the row shouted. “I've got a phone call for him! The person at the end of the line says it's important!”

“I'll take it,” Samuels said. “Marshall went out to get some air.”

“Okay, line two!” the detective shouted.

Samuels picked up the phone and tapped into line two. “Hello, this is Detective Samuels.”

“I told the other cop I wanted to speak to Detective Marshall. If you aren't Detective Marshall, I don't want to speak to you.”

“Ma'am…”

“My name is Miss Ellen Pomeroy.”

“Miss Pomeroy, Detective Marshall is my partner, and he's out of the office at the moment. Anything you want to say to him you can say to me.”

“I don't like this one bit…but if you're the only somebody I can talk to, I guess you're it. Are you sure you're Detective Marshall's partner?”

“Ma'am, I'd swear on the Bible if I wasn't a religious man, but you can rest assured that I will take good notes and get the message to Detective Marshall.”

“Good. You have a pen and pencil? You better be ready to write. See, the feller that they found dead near some railroad tracks in Durham…”

“Yes, what about him?” Samuels asked with renewed interest.

“I'm getting to it. Don't push me. Anyways, I've seen that feller over at the condos where I live. My wonderful grandson who's on one of those NBA basketball teams put me up in this nice place, and I ain't got nothing to do but watch the soaps and look out my window.”

“Uh-huh,” Samuels said under his breath, hoping Miss Pomeroy would hurry and get on with her story.

“Anyways, that feller came around here a lot last week, but on yesterday, there was a big fight between him and the girl he sees over here.”

“Miss Pomeroy, are you sure it's the same man? Was it Victor Christianson?”

“Sho I'm sure. They had his picture covering the whole television screen. I was mad because I was trying to solve the puzzle on
Wheel of Fortune
. I had the answer, but them rude TV announcers cut into my program and started talkin' about the man that got murdered. Anyways, getting back to the story, I hear what I think is gunshots and a few minutes later the man comes staggering down the stairs holding onto his arm, shouting obscenities at the girlfriend. I mean to tell you, he had a filthy mouth, but hers weren't no better.”

“Do you know the name of the woman you call…his girlfriend?”

“Yes, I do. She's really nice, though. Helped me a time or two with my groceries. Took them all the way into my condo and put them up for me, too. I hate to squeal on her.”

“But you already have, Miss Pomeroy, by calling in with the information about the man who was killed. We need to speak with this woman; she may be a lead in our case.”

“Well, I hope she isn't in too much trouble because that
Christianson feller was most definitely alive when he left her place; although she kept shouting that she should've killed him like he killed her. Now, I didn't understand it because as I said, both of them were good and alive. Anyways, her name is Sheila Atkins.”

“Oh, Ms. Sheila Atkins,” Samuels said, wishing he hadn't been so demonstrative upon recognizing Sheila's name.

“Did I say something wrong?” Miss Pomeroy asked.

“No, Miss Pomeroy, you have been most helpful. I will need your telephone number in the event Detective Marshall needs to follow-up and talk with you further. Would that be okay?”

“Oh, yes. My number is 555-1520.”

Miss Pomeroy had warmed to Samuels and figured he'd ask his next question. “Miss Pomeroy, if we need for you to testify in a court of law to what you just told me, would you be willing to do that?”

“Testify…in court…like they do on
Perry Mason
? Why sho, honey. Just tell me what day to be there. Give me enough time, though, so I can get my grandson to buy me a new dress. I want to look real pretty when the judge tells me to ‘Answer the question, Miss Pomeroy.'”

“Again, you've been very helpful, Miss Pomeroy. We will call you if we need to speak with you further. Have a good day.”

“You too, young feller. Don't leave out anything when you tell Detective Marshall.”

“I'll make sure I tell him the story exactly as you told it to me,” Samuels said with a grin on his face.”

“All right. I'm through. I've done my civic duty for today.”

“Goodbye, Miss Pomeroy.”

Samuels set the phone down, put his feet up on his desk, and reflected on the phone call from Miss Pomeroy. It certainly could
be a lead in the case, although Christianson was very much alive at the time of the incident Miss Pomeroy spoke about. But it might certainly be a key in the Afrika Bailey shooting. “Uhm,” Samuels hummed to himself.

“Uhm…what's that all about?” Marshall asked, coming up behind Samuels. He placed his jacket on the back of his chair and sat down. Samuels remained cool, kept his feet on top of his desk until Marshall stared him down, and then removed them.

“Got an interesting call a moment ago. And you won't believe what about.”

“Shoot. Give me the four-one-one,” Marshall said.

Samuels gave Marshall the low down just as Miss Pomeroy had told it to him. Marshall's eyebrows shot up to his forehead when Samuels got to the part about Sheila and Christianson having a fight at her condo and that gunshots were heard.

“Get your coat. We're going to the campus to interview the lovely Ms. Sheila Atkins. I'm anxious to see how much flirting she's going to do this time.”

Samuels laughed. “She was a looker.”

“She ain't the kind of woman that's gonna look at a white boy; especially you. Even if she did, you wouldn't get to first base. I can tell Ms. Sheila Atkins the future Ms. Sheila Billops is a feisty one. Back in the day, we'd call her a brick house with nothing but fire and desire.”

“How did you get that welt on your face, Marshall?” Samuels began to laugh again.

“Shut the hell up, Samuels,” Marshall billowed. “It's none of your business.”

Before Samuels could shoot off another word, Detective Chad Smith bounced into the corridor where Marshall and Samuels stood.

“What is it, Smith?” Marshall asked.

“Ballistics ID'd the prints on the gun found near Christianson's body.”

“Well, don't just stand there; tell us who they belong to,” Samuels pushed.

Smith's nostrils flared and he gave Samuels a
don't work my nerve today
look. “There may have been several people who handled the gun. Christianson's prints were definitely on it. Ballistics was able to get an ID of a fingertip that didn't belong to Christianson but did belong to Raphael Bailey.”

“Who's Raphael Bailey?” Samuels asked.

“The father of the kid…the cheerleader that got shot,” Marshall offered. “Smith said earlier that the Bailey woman picked the gun up on the day of the murder. Could be…she showed it to her husband, which would explain his fingerprint on the gun but it doesn't explain how Victor Christianson's fingerprints got on it.”

“Yeah, his prints were all over the gun like he had a good grip on it,” Smith continued. “Only thing, the fingerprints were smudged by something—maybe someone was trying to conceal their prints.”

“A third person,” Marshall said. “Thanks, Smith. We're on our way to question another person of interest who I believe is indirectly linked to this case, and then we're going to make a visit to see the Baileys.”

“Here's the address for Mrs. Bailey,” Smith said, handing the paper with the information on it to Marshall. “I'll keep you posted if anything else comes up.”

“Do that,” Samuels said, getting in the last word.

B
utterflies flitted about Sheila's empty stomach, causing it to rumble every two minutes. Police were scattered throughout her section, collecting what they called possible evidence and interviewing members of the administration. They had yet to ask her any more questions, but she was grateful. It might have been that what she offered to the black and white detectives earlier had been enough.

Unable to concentrate on her work, Sheila got up to go use the bathroom but was happy to see Phyllis as she rounded the corner. With the back side of her hand, Phyllis shooed Sheila back to her seat as if she had been sent to deliver a secret message for Sheila's ears only.

“What's up?” Sheila asked, her nerves getting the best of her. “I can't think with all this extra activity going on around here.”

“Girl, they're questioning everybody about Victor's behavior in the last few weeks. Hmph, I've got nothing to say because I don't know anything. Not a thing to tell.”

“I keep thinking about what happened at the house. What if he died from one of the bullets I clipped him with?”

“Sheila, you're going to worry yourself to death. Victor would have been laying on the sidewalk if you had inflicted any bodily harm on him. If I recall, your beautiful walls have now become bullet art.” Phyllis let out a small laugh.

“Phyllis, it's not funny at all. My stomach is all in knots from worry.”

“Girl, you have nothing to be worried about. The police have to find the murder weapon, and once they do, you'll be home free.”

“Easy for you to say. I was the one playing the madwoman, acting like I was Jessica James and the outlaws.”

“Sheila, you are too funny.”

“Phyllis, I'm not laughing. What if the bullet I hit Victor with killed him?”

“If that's the case, how is it that they found him on the other side of Durham?”

“Phyllis, I don't know. Somehow I feel partially responsible for Victor's demise.”

“Listen up, Sheila, you are still carrying the HIV virus and Victor doesn't get off because his slimy ass is dead in somebody's morgue. His time was coming, but I don't believe you were the one that brought that monster to his end.”

“You're right.”

“I know I am. So chin up and stop pouting like somebody stole your knock-off Prada bag. Guess what? You don't have to move out of your condo.”

“Phyllis, you know you ain't right.”

“I got you to smile, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but only for a second. Don't turn around.”

“What is it, Sheila?” Phyllis asked, twisting her body so she could see what had interrupted Sheila's developing good mood.

“I told you not to turn around.”

“Look, girl, got to go. Ring me later.”

Sheila watched as Phyllis sashayed away from her desk and Detectives Marshall and Samuels approached her desk. She noticed how Marshall eyed her, outlining her body with his eyes. He
wasn't her type, even if she were to put out an APB on Match.com for a man to wine and dine her. She'd only given him a sideways glance because some of his handsome was still there and he typified the kind of man Phyllis would fall for.

Sheila pushed her nervousness to the center of her stomach and extended a hand. “So you two gentlemen are back. What can I do for you this time?”

“You seem very confident in yourself, Ms. Sheila Atkins soon to be Mrs. Sheila Billops,” Marshall said, studying her body language closely.

Sheila dropped her head back in surprise. “Scared of you. Your memory serves you well.”

“That it does, Ms. Atkins. I remember asking you about the last time you saw Victor Christianson, too. Do you remember what your response was?”

There was a pause and Sheila exhaled, sizing Marshall up while straying only a second to peek at Samuels who appeared uninterested. She tried to put a finger on the angle Marshall was coming from, but whatever it was, she could smell the trap.

“Since you're all knowing, why don't you tell me what I said?” was Sheila's response.

Marshall smiled. “I like you.”

Sheila looked between him and Samuels without breaking a crack on her face. Her nerves were unraveling and whatever they had come for, she wanted them to get to it and be on their way.

“How may I help you detectives?” Sheila asked again.

This time Samuels spoke up. “In the event you are unaware, your boss, Victor Christianson was found murdered last night.” Sheila nodded. “We received a call today about an argument that transpired between you and the deceased, Victor Christianson, on yesterday that had gunfire to go with it.”

A lump formed in Sheila's throat and she swallowed hard. “An argument between me and Victor Christianson? He didn't come to work yesterday,” Sheila hastily said.

“Who said it was at work, Mrs. Atkins?” Samuels said, stepping up to the side of her desk and sucking up the air between them.