Betrayed (36 page)

Sheila sighed. “Damn, damn, damn, damn.” Tears began to form in her eyes and she grabbed her face before she could make a puddle on the desk. “I didn't kill Victor Christianson. Yes, I saw him yesterday evening when he stopped by my house.”

“So why don't you tell us what happened,” Marshall said, pulling up a chair that sat off to the side of Sheila's desk. “We've got plenty of time.”

Sheila dropped her head and wiped the water that kept streaming down her face. “It all started when I received a letter in the mail from the health department. The letter contained the results of my blood work. Jamal and I were supposed to get married this weekend.

“When I opened the letter and read the contents, I thought someone had blown my brains out at close range. There on the piece of paper in black and white were the words ‘HIV positive.'”

Marshall stiffened in his seat and Samuels took a step backward.

“I was livid, mad, pissed off, angry…because I understood too well what the words meant,” Sheila continued. “It was like telling a cancer patient they had only two weeks to live. It was a death sentence and there was only one person who could be responsible.”

“How can you be sure?” Marshall asked with a straight face and without sympathy in his words.

“Because, detective, Victor was the only person I'd been with for the last five years, except for Jamal. And contrary to what you might believe, I'm not a promiscuous woman.”

“I'm sure you were aware that Mr. Christianson was a married man.”

“I was, however that doesn't make me promiscuous.”

Marshall rolled his eyes in Samuels' direction. Samuels shrugged his shoulders slightly and spoke up.

“Why couldn't this Jamal guy have given you ahh…the sentence of death, as you call it?”

“Because he and I used protection,” Sheila said, not happy with this line of questioning.

“That's strange to me,” Samuels countered. “You and Christianson didn't use protection, but Jamal comes along, and you use protection. Makes no sense to me. What makes him better than Christianson?”

“Because,” Sheila began with clenched teeth, then tried to soften it a little, “Victor wanted sex in the natural. He didn't like rub…I mean prophylactics. And, of course, I went along with it because he set me up in my condo and who was I to complain? Yes, I enjoyed it, too. Now, Jamal was someone I met six months ago, and while things started out innocent enough, we fell in love.”

“So you had a sugar daddy you strung along and a real man that you were going to marry until you received the bad news, news so bad you wanted to hurt the person who had done this horrible deed that the letter indicated to you,” Marshall cut in.

“You want to know the truth, detectives?” Sheila jumped up from her seat and Samuels jumped back, not sure what Sheila was about to do. She wagged her finger at them and made Marshall get up from his seat. “Hell yeah, I wanted to kill Victor. He deserved the same sentence he gave me—death. I was angry because I finally found someone who loved me for me and we were going to be married. And then I received this letter stating I was HIV positive and to notify my sexual partners. Partners? Hell, Victor was the only person I was having casual sex with on the regular without protection. I wonder if his wife knows?”

“Someone should tell her,” Marshall said, staring straight into Sheila's soul.

“I don't deserve to die. I'm a good person. I'm a good worker—check my performance appraisals.” Sheila huffed and sighed. “I didn't kill him. I have a witness.”

“Witness?” Samuels asked.

“Yes, my co-worker, Phyllis…the girl who walked out as you all were coming in,” Sheila said in a daze. “She was at my house when Victor stopped by and she witnessed the whole thing. Yes, I fired some shots at Victor, but that was the first time I had ever fired a gun. Check my house; I'm sure the bullets are still lodged in the walls.”

Sheila stopped and then sat down in her chair. She looked like she was thinking. Then she looked at the two detectives who were looking anxiously at her. “I did hit his arm or elbow. Victor screamed like a flying monkey, and that's when he decided to take his ass out of my house. He started cursing at me, and do you know what he was worried about? You won't believe it.”

“Try us,” Marshall said, sitting back down in the seat he had vacated.

“The asshole was mad because I made a hole in his designer jacket. Can you believe that?”

Samuels began to laugh and so did Marshall. Sheila looked at them and hunched her shoulders. “He did. And he called me a bunch of dirty names.”

“I understand you called him a bunch back,” Samuels said, still laughing.

“Nosey Miss Pomeroy tell you that? I know it was her; she has nothing else to do but get in people's business. But she got the story right.”

“She likes you a lot,” Samuels said. “In fact, she didn't want you to get into any trouble.”

“She means well,” Sheila said. “Her grandson put her in a nice condo and left her there. I don't think she has many visitors.”

“Where's the gun you used to shoot Christianson?” Marshall asked.

“At my house.”

Marshall looked at Samuels and then said, “Ms. Atkins, I believe you're telling the truth, but we need to see the gun and the bullet holes at your house.”

“I'm ready to get this over with; let's go,” Sheila said.

“It's long from being over, Miss Atkins,” Samuels said. “We're just getting started. One thing may lead to another. We need to talk to your co-worker.”

Panick was stricken on Sheila's face. “I don't want to get her into any trouble.”

“She's a witness and we have to ask her a few questions. We need to see if she remembers the story as you did. It's all part of our preliminary investigation,” Samuels said.

Marshall and Samuels did not move from their respective places. “We need to talk to this Phyllis now,” Marshall said to Sheila.

“I'll call her.”

P
hyllis' story jibed with Sheila's. Not much was gained from her interview that would incriminate either her or Sheila in Victor's death. Obtaining Sheila's gun would help to rule her out completely, but then there was the gun found near the scene of the crime and registered to Setrina Bailey that disturbed Marshall more.

Detectives Marshall and Samuels trailed Sheila to her condo. The area south of North Carolina Central University and across Interstate 40 had become a thriving community in the past five years. Small corporate offices, a large mall considered to be one of North Carolina's premier shopping and dining places, the spattering of medium to luxury condos and not to mention the proximity to the Research Triangle Park and the Raleigh/Durham Airport sprung up from out of nowhere and made the area an allure for people newly coming to the area.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes at the max,” Marshall said as they turned into the entrance to the condos where Sheila lived. “Nice place and I'm sure she couldn't afford it on her salary.”

“She was someone's sugar baby all right,” Samuels put in.

They followed Sheila until she pulled her car into a small garage, and by the point of her finger, pulled into a space marked
VISITORS
. Marshall and Samuels got out of their vehicle and followed close behind Sheila, taking in the landscape and its manicured vegetation that smelled of money.

“That must be Miss Pomeroy's place,” Samuels pointed. “Can't miss much at the Atkins' condo from her vantage point.”

“Got that right!” Marshall hollered back over his shoulder, as he paused to get some air as he climbed the stairs.

Sheila opened the front door and ushered the detectives inside.

“You can sit, if you like. Don't be scared. I've got lemonade if you want something to drink,” Sheila offered.

Marshall rolled his eyes and looked at Samuels. “I'll pass,” Marshall said.

“Me, too,” Samuels chimed in.

Sheila turned to look at them. “It's not because I'm HIV positive, is it?”

“No,” both Marshall and Samuels said simultaneously. They looked at each other and smiled when Sheila turned her back.

“I'll be back with the gun,” Sheila said.

“We aren't going anywhere,” Marshall said as he moved from where he stood to the wall in front of him. Just as Sheila had so colorfully told them, what looked to be four bullet holes dotted the wall in an abstract way, almost as if it was the intention of the person who put them there.

Marshall reached in his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife and a plastic baggie and began to dig into the wall. Samuels walked over to the wall to see what Marshall was doing. One, two bullets were uncovered, and Marshall dropped them into the baggie. Before he was able to excavate any more, both Marshall and Samuels turned in the direction of the shrill voice.

“Hey!” Sheila screamed. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your ass from the gas chamber,” Marshall mumbled. Samuels snickered.

“I heard that and it's not funny. You're going to have to pay for enlarging that hole in the wall,” Sheila said, swinging the gun at the trigger on her middle finger.

A frown formed on Marshall's face. “Ms. Atkins soon to be Ms. Billops, the wall was already in need of repair when we entered your dwelling. Why don't you let me have the gun before you shoot any more holes in the wall.”

“Suit yourself,” Sheila said.

Sashaying to where Samuels stood, Sheila reluctantly dropped the gun into the plastic bag Samuels held open. The weight of the gun made the plastic bag sag, causing Samuels to almost drop it. With a smirk on her face, she watched as Samuels recovered from his clumsiness. “And you call yourself a detective?”

Marshall laughed and patted Samuels on the back. “Stay close, Ms. Atkins,” Marshall said, trying to control his laughter. “We appreciate your cooperation, and you will be hearing from us again. Now, let me get the rest of the bullets out of the wall so we can analyze them and the gun and clear your name, if indeed that's the case.”

Sheila looked in the detectives' direction, but it was almost as if she was staring straight through them. And almost as if she'd reconciled in her mind what had her in a daze, she looked at them with pointed eyes. “I didn't kill Victor. I should have but I didn't… I couldn't. It wasn't in me, although I wanted him to feel the pain that I was feeling after receiving that notice in the mail.” And from out of nowhere, she burst into tears. “Why me, Lord? Why me?”

A
FRIKA WAS SOUND ASLEEP WHEN
M
IMI AND
R
APHAEL ENTERED
her room. They stood on either side of the bed and hovered over her, allowing somber faces to turn into a smile. As if on cue, Afrika began to stir, stretching her arm slowly upward. Then she opened her eyes, blinking and batting her eyelids until recognition set in. Mimi was the first to reach over and kiss her on the forehead, followed by Raphael.

“Mommy, Daddy, where have you been? Mommy, I waited for you to come back, but you never did.”

Mimi's eyes shifted to Raphael and back to Afrika. “I had every intention of returning to the hospital,” Mimi said, “but your father needed me in a worse way last evening.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over,” Raphael chimed in. “We want you to focus on full recovery.”

“How can I accomplish that when I'm worried about you guys?”

“Why would you be worried about us?” Mimi asked.

Afrika wasn't sure how to respond. She licked her dry lips and focused on the blank screen on the television set that was perched high up on a brace in a corner of the room. Her voice was soft when she finally opened her mouth to reply. “Are you and Daddy mad at each other?” Afrika made herself say.

Raphael leaned against the wall and glanced at Mimi. He kept his mouth shut, probably in anticipation of Mimi's answer.

“No, baby, we're not mad at each other. Your father and I have discussed things…” Mimi looked at Raf, who dropped his head. “We love each other and we love you. You will always be our baby.” Mimi paused, not exactly happy with her choice of a word. “We're going to be fine; we only want you to get well.”

“Is that true, Daddy?”

Afrika caught Raphael off-guard. He looked at her, came over and sat on the bed, offered her a smile, and kissed her on her forehead. “Your mother is right. You'll always be our baby, and… we'll always be a family.” He picked up Afrika's hand and squeezed it. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.” Afrika turned toward her mother. “I love you, Mommy.” Mimi smiled. “I've got something to tell you.”

Mimi and Raf looked at each other, alarm written on their faces. “What is it, Afrika?” Raphael asked.

“Stop frowning; it's good news.” Afrika smiled as her mother and father's countenance changed. “I wiggled my toes today.”

“Thank You, Jesus!” Mimi hollered. Tears of joy immediately ran down her face.

“Thank You for answering our prayer,” Raphael mumbled, clasping his hands together as if he was about to pray. “Thank You.”

A faint knock at the door caused the trio to turn their heads toward the sound like a precision drill team. Raphael got up to answer the knock just as the two detectives pushed the door in. Tears of joy were interrupted.

“Detectives Marshall and Samuels,” Marshall said as the two flipped out their badges for the obviously surprised Raphael.

“Okay,” Raphael said apprehensively.

Marshall and Samuels moved further into the room and nodded in Mimi's direction. “Mr. and Mrs. Bailey?” Marshall asked.

“Yes,” Raphael said, his lone word short and blunt.