Black Princess Mystery (19 page)

“A lot of
people are talking about Mike Power,” Henrietta noted. “He’s not ten minutes
from Dead Man’s Oak, and with all those trees for cover, he could easily have
snuck over there and done it.”

“It was
snowing pretty hard that night, too,” said Mrs. Green. “Hardly anyone was out
and about, and even if they were, at nine o’clock it was almost whiteout
conditions. It would have been easy to hide behind the tree and wait.”

Henrietta
nodded. “Mike Power knew Tim walked that same route at the same time every
night. It was an easy setup.”

“Everyone
knew Tim’s routine,” Tasheka observed, “us included.”

“True,”
said Mrs. Green.

Henrietta
took a drink of wine. “Do you think it was someone from Lakeside, or an
outsider?”

“Anyone
could have been lying in wait without being noticed,” Tasheka said, “but a
local could have walked there through the trees and shadows without being seen.
If it was an outsider, he would have had to come here by car. There was very
little traffic during the snow, so a car would have stood out if he parked
anywhere near the Lakeside Road, especially near the club.”

“That’s
true,” Henrietta said. “It probably was a local.”

“An
outsider could have parked across the lake and walked to Dead Man’s Oak,” Tasheka
offered. “There is any number of places to hide a car over there and no one
would have seen him. So, really, it could have been anyone, Henrietta. We’ll
have to wait for solid evidence.”

“Thanks
for letting me stay,” Henrietta said. “I really didn’t want to be alone
tonight.”

“We’re
glad to have you,” Mrs. Green responded.

The women
walked into the living room and Mrs. Green turned on the television. Almost
instantly there was a report on the gruesome Lakeside murder, including the
fact that the priest’s skull had been crushed with a golf club. For the first
time, to the horror of Mrs. Green and Henrietta, it was revealed that his right
hand had been cut off with a green ax or hatchet. Tasheka quickly turned off
the television and wondered why they had chosen this moment to reveal that
information.

“What
really strikes me,” said Tasheka, looking at both of them, “is the behavior of
Tim’s brother. Mike noticed it, too. When Tim didn’t return from his walk that
night, how could you not notice? He didn’t report it, and he disappeared with
Father Tim’s car. That is odd in the extreme.”

“There’s
no sign of him yet?” Henrietta asked, composing herself.

“I don’t
think so or Detective Henry would have mentioned it. For sure, Father Tim’s
brother has got some questions to answer.”

“We really
have to stop it,” Mrs. Green said. “It’s Christmas. We should be happy and
thankful, not consumed by this. It’s depressing.”

“I know,
Momma,” Tasheka said, hugging her mother.

Henrietta
stood up and joined in the hug, finding solace and comfort in the embrace of
her fellow villagers. Mrs. Green put on some Christmas music and all three of
them started to sing a carol, trying to sound happy. But even then there was a
palpable atmosphere of fear enshrouding them, like a toxic cloud. Though they
sang and smiled and laughed, the pall of death hung over them with the stench
of a rotting carcass. Tasheka, for some unknown reason, felt the absolute worst
when she was smiling and laughing. She could not get the image of the priest’s
hand out of her mind. It seemed to be reaching out, pleading for help.

“How
dreadful Father Tim’s last moments were,” Tasheka suddenly said, tears welling
in her eyes. “All I can see is him on the ground, dying, and a figure in the
darkness holding a golf club and a hatchet. It’s like a Hitchcock movie that
plays over and over in my head. It’s horrible.”

“We all
feel terrible,” Mrs. Green said, kissing the back of Tasheka’s hand. “It was
dreadful and it never should have happened.”

“Dead
Man’s Oak,” Henrietta said dramatically. “Is that aptly named or what?”

Mrs. Green
sighed. “We must try again to think pleasant thoughts,” she insisted. “If we
don’t, we’ll surely go mad.”

“Yes,
yes,” the other two women agreed.

They ate
the stew late into the evening, savoring Henrietta’s delicious recipe, and
enjoyed steaming Russian black bread. Around midnight they were wondering if
they should stay up and comfort each other, or pretend, no matter how
unsuccessfully, that it was just another day come to its end. Tasheka was the
first to stand.

“Good
night, Momma. Good night, Henrietta.”

Tasheka
kissed her mother on the cheek, gestured with a little wave to Henrietta, and
then went to her room. She changed into a night dress, climbed under the cool
blankets, and turned out the light. Through a gap in her curtain, she could see
a bright streetlight on the hill beside the golf course clubhouse. It
illuminated the area like the star above the manger where Jesus was born, yet,
because it dispersed light over a wide swath, it had probably shone down on the
murderer as he made good his escape. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
She closed her eyes and again she recalled with amazing clarity that night at
the
Paradise Motel
.

She
remembered everything about it, from the great number of trick-or-treaters she
had passed on her way through Lakeside, to the truck stop and rundown motel
with its band of prostitutes waiting for new arrivals. She rented the room and
signed a false name. By the time he arrived, she was naked on the bed, touching
herself. The man didn’t say a word and walked into the bathroom, emerging a
short time later in the nude.

Then he
stepped forward, but only slightly. He was tall, not muscular, and he was stark
white. He stopped so that part of his body was still in the shadows even when
the
Paradise Motel
sign flashed, but
his cock, thick and erect, was clearly visible. It was eight inches long and
the pink head seemed to be almost trembling. Tasheka knelt down on all fours,
facing him, and he stepped forward, wordlessly, sliding his cock into her mouth
and holding her head as he took her. She licked and sucked his cock, and then
rubbed it all over her face as she looked into his eyes.

“I need to
fuck you,” he said, when the light faded and his face was in total darkness.

“Fuck me
then,” she told him, turning around on all fours and presenting herself.

He slid
his cock balls deep into her, pressed his chest to her back and started to pump
like some kind of animal in heat. He was not fully hard and she was not fully
engaged, but they did it out of some kind of perverse momentum.

She
wondered how had she come to be in a dirty room that smelled of cheap liquor
and mold? The sex eventually became incredibly dirty and vile. Never had she
been raunchier, riding his prick like a porn star dreaming of the winning the
AVN award for “Most Outrageous Sex Scene.” It almost made her sick to think of
it now.

* * * *

“Tasheka,”
her mother said, knocking at the door.

Tasheka
opened her eyes to a glorious early morning sun. “Yes, Momma?” she asked
sleepily.

“There’s
someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“The
sister of the mechanic, Matt Vendor.”

“Marissa?”
Tasheka asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve
never spoken two words to her in my whole life,” Tasheka said. “I don’t even
know what she looks like. I can’t imagine what she wants with me.”

“She’s
very upset and she’s insisting on speaking with you. Please come down and speak
with her.”

“I’ll be
there in a few minutes,” Tasheka said, quickly getting out of bed and dressing.

Tasheka
hurried downstairs where she saw her mother and Henrietta awkwardly standing
with Marissa Vendor. Marissa had long red hair, stringy and greasy, and sunken,
dark eyes that seemed to have permanent bruising around them. Her hands were
crooked and bony, the nails chewed down, and white marks showed where rings
once circled her fingers. Though dreadfully thin, Marissa wore black stretchy
pants that clung to her thin legs and emaciated buttocks. Her skin was
sickeningly pale, her front teeth chipped, and scars were visible on her neck and
ears. The gaudy brown fur coat she wore was dirty and grossly oversized, and
her hands almost disappeared in the drooping sleeves.

“What is
it, Marissa?” Tasheka asked.

“I need
your help,” she murmured quietly.

“My help?
For what?”

“The
police have arrested Matt for the murder of Father Murphy.”

Chapter
Thirteen

The other
three women all looked at each other with stunned expressions. Tasheka took her
by the arm, glanced at her mother and Henrietta, and then led the woman to an
antique divan. Marissa looked totally out of place sitting on it. The divan was
of the highest possible quality, with dark, polished walnut, and deep red
leather upholstery secured to it with large, gold rivets. Matt’s sister looked
sickly and sniffed continually, wiping her dripping nose with a sleeve. The
women stared at her and the clothes she wore, including the knee-high red suede
boots with short, thick, black heels. Though no one treated Marissa in any kind
of condescending manner, Tasheka couldn’t help thinking she looked like a
prostitute.

“Why did
they arrest him?” Tasheka asked with grave concern.

“They
found the murder weapon in our backyard.”

“Wait
here,” Tasheka said, rushing to her bedroom. She called Thorston’s direct line.

“Hello,
Tasheka.”

“Did you
arrest Matt Vendor?” she asked in a hurried whisper.

“No,”
Thorston told her. “We brought him in for questioning and he’s with Detective
McNab right now, but he has not been arrested.”

“Shouldn’t
you be there, too?”

“Maybe I
should, but it doesn’t work that way. McNab has been doing this for decades and
has his own peculiar style. He likes to question suspects by himself at first.”

“Suspects?”
Tasheka asked.

“Not a
suspect, per se,” Thorston qualified. “A person of interest would be more
fitting. It’s all on video, so I’ll see everything, but he doesn’t want me
cramping his style. I do have Matt Vendor’s file in front of me, though, and
I’m reviewing it a second time.”

“File?”
she asked. “He has a history?”

Thorston
hesitated. “Listen, Tasheka, there’s a lot more here than meets the eye. People
have histories, secrets, things they don’t want divulged. Sure, Matt Vendor has
a history. Everyone does.”

“Tell me.”

He
hesitated. “Can we meet somewhere? I have something I want to ask you.”

“Right
now,” she proposed.

“All right.”

“There’s a
nice little park across the lake from the golf course, down Moor Road. No one
ever goes there when the snow is deep, and it would be a good place to meet in
private. Can you make it?”

“I could
meet you there in an hour.”

“See you
in an hour.”

Tasheka
returned and explained to Marissa that her brother was not under arrest and
that he was merely being questioned. By this time the locals also knew Mike
Power had been pulled into the office and there was increasing speculation
about Jake Thompson.

“Was Matt
at home the night of the murder?” Tasheka asked.

“He was
home during the time of the murder,” Henrietta stated with conviction.

“How do
you know?” asked Mrs. Green, apparently shocked by the forcefulness of her
statement.

“Because I
was there, too,” Henrietta said. “We played cards from eight until almost
eleven-thirty. Matt was in the room the whole time, except for when he went to
the bathroom, but that only took a few minutes. He had no opportunity, even if
he did have a motive, which I don’t think he did. I’ll swear to this on a stack
of Bibles.”

“Me, too,”
Marissa assured Tasheka and Mrs. Green. “The three of us were together just
like Henrietta said.”

Tasheka
held up her hands in a triumphant way. “There you go, Marissa. Your brother’s
whereabouts have been accounted for from eight until eleven-thirty. The murder
took place at nine-fifteen. People can’t be in two places at once. He obviously
could not have committed the crime and I don’t believe for a minute that he
did. But I will call our family lawyer if you want me to.”

Marissa
thought about it for several seconds. “I don’t know,” she said. “If he gets a
lawyer, it might make him look guilty. You say others have been questioned?”

“Several,”
Tasheka assured her. “This is a horrific crime and the police will be talking
to many people, including your brother or anyone else who might have any
information. I was the first one they took into the station, as a matter of
fact, because I discovered the body.”

“Okay,”
Marissa said nervously, “I think we’ll play it by ear. But if they do target
Matt, you will help us with a lawyer?”