God Don't Make No Mistakes (31 page)

Read God Don't Make No Mistakes Online

Authors: Mary Monroe

BOOK: God Don't Make No Mistakes
6.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
CHAPTER 61
W
E ALL KEPT OUR EYES GLUED TO THE TV MONITOR, WAITING
to see what the news was going to report next on Harrietta. Each report was bad, but to me it seemed like each new one was more disgusting than the one before it. One broadcast stated that that low-down bitch had even made videos of some of those poor kids masturbating and performing oral sex on one another!
“If they ever release that bitch, I am goin' to take care of her for good,” Rhoda growled. She gave me a conspiratorial look and I knew exactly what she meant. I wanted to kill Harrietta myself, but I didn't want to suffer any more consequences for my actions; because if I did kill her and ended up in jail, I really couldn't protect my child the next time. And I didn't want Rhoda to end up in jail either. Not with all of the mess that she had going on in her life with her own daughter.
My head was throbbing so badly by now that I had to hold a cold compress against my forehead to relieve the pain. That helped a little, but then my stomach and my chest began to cause me even more pain.
“Annette, why don't you go upstairs, take a relaxin' bath, and lie down in your bed for a while. That couch can't be too comfortable,” Lillimae said. She stood over me as I lay sprawled on one end of the couch with that cold compress still pressed against my forehead.
“Annette, take an aspirin,” Rhoda suggested. “Then get in your bed where you'll be more comfortable too.”
“No, I don't need any aspirin, and I'd rather stay right here,” I declared. I was aggravated even more because now the inside of my mouth tasted like shit. There was also an even larger lump in my throat now. It seemed like every few minutes, a different part of my body felt under siege. “I ... I guess I need to go back to the police station soon and tell them that my daughter was one of the kids who had been in Harrietta's care,” I said. Everybody looked at me. Before anybody else could speak, the telephone rang. The caller ID flashed Wyrita's name and phone number. I almost didn't answer, but it was a good thing I did.
It was Wyrita's cousin Lizel on the other end of the line, with some
more
disturbing news. “Annette, I heard about your girl. I seen the flyer they put up in the window at the Grab and Go when I stopped there on the way home from my aerobics class,” Lizel informed me. “Did she come home yet?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I have no idea where she is or who she is with,” I sobbed, rubbing my forehead.
“Well, I think I saw her over on Lymon Court last night,” Lizel said in a low voice. “It sure kind of looked like her.”
Lymon Court was one of the shabby areas where a lot of Richland's lowlifes hung out. It was also the main stroll for the street prostitutes.
“What?” I rasped. “You think you saw her?”
“Uh-huh. Something tells me it really was her—I could be wrong, though. I didn't have my contacts in. But when I drove closer to the curb and slowed down my car to get a better look, she saw me. She turned so I couldn't see her face.”
“But you're still not sure it was her?” I asked. Charlotte was well aware of the high crime in that area and it frightened her. As a matter of fact, she didn't even like it when she was with me in the car when I had to drive through there to get to Claudette's beauty shop.
“Oh my Lord,” I moaned. I stopped rubbing my forehead because I was afraid I was going to rub a hole in it. “What was she ... doing?”
“Don't start me to lying. But if I had to guess, I would say that she was trying to get paid, if you know what I mean. She was sure enough dressed the part. She had on one of them straight-up hoochie-coochie woman outfits: real short skirt, makeup, some kind of halter top, and sky-high heels with toes so sharp they looked like missiles.”
“No! That couldn't have been Charlotte! She doesn't even like to go near that place in a car. She's not allowed to wear makeup yet, and she doesn't own any clothing and shoes like that!” I immediately wished that I had not included that last sentence. I was not naïve. I knew that if Charlotte, or any other young girl, wanted to wear makeup and hoochie-coochie outfits, she would. When I was young, I used to sneak around and wear makeup before Muh'Dear gave me permission to do so. And the only reason I didn't wear sexy outfits back then was because muumuus and other loose-fitting frocks were the only things big enough for me to fit in.
“Well, she might not own nothing like that, but she was sure enough wearing it. Or I should say all that mess was wearing her. She looked like she was eighteen, going on nineteen,” Lizel clucked.
“NO!” I screamed.
“Yes! And that pimping hound dog that they call Hollywood was with her. I don't know if he done already turned her out, but I doubt if they was over there window-shopping, if you know what I mean. Lord help us!”
“Thanks, Lizel,” I muttered, clumsily placing the telephone back into its cradle. “That was Lizel. She saw Charlotte on Lymon Court last night with that pimp they call Hollywood.”
Every jaw in the room dropped.
“Hollywood? Oh, hell no! His butt is mine! He's been tryin' to steal my girls from me for years! I told him the next time he stepped on my blue suede shoes, I was gwine to teach him a lesson he would never forget!” Scary Mary screamed. She got so excited she started pacing the floor, swinging her cane in the air with every step.
“Ain't he that same nasty-ass thug that Jade moved in with when Rhoda kicked her out?” Lillimae gasped, giving Rhoda a pitiful look.
“He is. But I ran into one of her stripper friends at Claudette's beauty shop a few weeks ago. She told me she and Jade have been sharin' a place since the end of August,” Rhoda reported.
“So your girl traded one devil for another, huh?” Daddy hollered.
Rhoda dropped her head and didn't respond. She had not mentioned Jade's current living arrangements before now. At one time I could not imagine the pain she was going through because of her child. Now I knew....
I sucked in my stomach and picked up the telephone again. “I need to call the cops.” Then I looked at Rhoda. “I need to have them go over to Hollywood's place and arrest my daughter for her own good... .”
I could see the tears forming in Rhoda's eyes as she nodded at me. “You're goin' to set up your own daughter to get arrested?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Something like that. If they take her to jail, at least I'll know where she is,” I managed, locking eyes with Rhoda. Now I knew how she felt! Now I felt that her setting Jade up to be arrested was the best thing she could have done to save her child. I was convinced that if I wanted to save my daughter, I had to have her locked up too. My hands were trembling so hard I couldn't hold the telephone still. I had tears in my eyes, too, so my vision was blurred. I had to blink several times and wipe my eyes just so I could see the numbers on the dial.
“I hope them folks take you seriously this time,” Pee Wee said.
Scary Mary hobbled across the floor and stood in front of me, leaning on her cane. She was leaning so far to the side, I thought she was going to fall over, but she didn't. She was so old, her bones so weak, she rarely stood up straight anyhow. “Annette, hand me that telephone,” she ordered. “
This is mine
. I'm gwine to straighten out this mess!” Scary Mary grabbed the telephone out of my hand and punched in some numbers. “Let me speak with Detective Robert Donnelly, please ... uh-huh. Horse feathers! I ain't gwine to tell you the nature of this call! You just tell him that Scary Mary is on—uh-huh. Bless your soul. Yes, I'm
that
Scary Mary. Put him on ... Hello, Bobby—what you mean ‘who's callin'?' You know
who
this is, goddammit! Thank you ... Yes, I'm fine, too, even though I'm still recoverin' from grippe, shingles, and gout. Uh-huh. Listen, my godchild's daughter is missin'. She's shackin' up with that low-down funky black dog they call Hollywood—a PIMP... . Uh-huh ... that's the one. One of my spies seen her with him on the Lymon Court stroll last night and the word is she's stayin' at his place.... Uh-huh. Oh, she's a minor all right ... twelve—ain't even cut all her teeth yet. You send somebody over there to that poontang-palace Hollywood works out of lickety-split. Have one of your boys grab a hold of him and cuff him up real good. Then I want you to take the child to juvie for a wake-up call. I bet that a few nights with the rest of them hardheaded heifers in that big doll house will do her a world of good.” Scary Mary paused; then she cackled like a setting hen, laughing so hard tears rolled out of her eyes. “Don't worry ... my girl Lola will be available when you bring your happy white ass by the house for your weekly visit.... Bye, baby.” Scary Mary exhaled a loud breath, looked around the room, and snapped her gnarled finger. “Somebody pour me another drink.”
“What was that phone call about?” Daddy asked dumbly, scratching his chin.
Otis handed Scary Mary another glass of Jack Daniels. With her chin tilted up and lips pursed like a goldfish, she took a long drink before she turned to me. “Case closed,” she said with a wink.
CHAPTER 62
T
HE NEXT DAY WENT BY IN A HAZE. THERE WERE TIMES WHEN I
thought that I was walking in my sleep. I had no appetite, and I didn't even want a glass of alcohol, my usual pacifier. All I wanted was for things to be back to normal again. Whatever that was.
That evening around six-thirty while I was alone, two male investigators in suits, accompanied by a husky policewoman, came to my house to tell me that Charlotte was in custody. Despite all of the glamour of TV, where these kinds of folks usually looked like George Clooney and Charlie's Angels, these three people looked more like the sour-faced types that appeared on
Cops
. I had never had cops in my house before, and after the way I'd been treated when I went to the station to get them to help find Charlotte, I didn't like them that much. And from the looks of these three, I didn't have too much confidence in their abilities. I would have bet good money that they could not investigate a serious case, or even protect a piggy bank.
As soon as they started to talk, my doubts and fears went away. The older man—I forgot their names as soon as they told me—did most of the talking. “Mrs. Davis, you can rest assured; we've got everything under control. Your daughter is safe and sound, and happy that things turned out the way they did. She's been checked out by a doctor, and she's fine ... physically at least. But I strongly advise you to take her to talk to a therapist as soon as possible.”
The two men occupied my couch, the woman sat on the love seat. I chose to remain standing in the middle of my living room floor as the younger man went on to tell me what had happened. I knew I was only hearing what they wanted me to hear, but I was glad for that. The gist of their report informed me that a task force had raided Hollywood's house last night. He'd been arrested for a variety of offenses, including drug possession, stolen guns, and contributing to the delinquency of minors. My daughter was being held at the county juvenile facility where she'd been singing like a rock star, long and loud, about Harrietta and her sordid business. Charlotte had told anybody who would listen that she would tell them everything that Harrietta had made her and the other children do.
Shortly after the investigators left, Pee Wee arrived. He and I rushed down to Juvenile Hall. A trustee led us to a small room with no windows and waved us into seats at a low, metal table where Charlotte had already been seated. She looked so young and confused. Her hair was askew, and her eyes were red and swollen. And the gray smock she had on made her look like an unwanted creature that somebody had thrown away. I could not believe that my life had come to this!
“I'm sorry,” Charlotte muttered, looking at the floor. She looked so frightened. As soon as the trustee left us alone, Pee Wee and I jumped out of our seats at the same time and ran to her, covering her with hugs and kisses. We were all crying and talking at the same time. Charlotte was so scared she was shivering, but once she started talking, we didn't stop her. “Mama, Daddy, I am so sorry for worrying y'all the way I did. I ran away because I was scared of what all Harrietta told Vivian she was going to do to me if I ever told what she was doing to kids—and what she made me do when I stayed at her house. Vivian ran away for the same reason. She was going to try and get her daddy to believe her because we didn't know what else to do! The night I ran away, I was hanging out at the Grab and Go when Hollywood came in and told me to come with him because he was going to take care of me. I was just going to stay out for that one night, but, well, once I hooked up with him, he made me stay with him. He made me put on those hoochie-coochie clothes, and some makeup and stuff. He said he was going to be good to me so I had to be good to him.” Charlotte stopped talking and stared off into space. “I knew that what Harrietta was making us do was wrong, and I knew that what Hollywood was telling me I had to do was wrong. I was going to run away from him, too, and come back home anyway, but I was so scared. I was glad when I heard they had arrested that nasty, stinking Harrietta woman!”
“Baby, you should have told me what was really going on over there at that woman's house!” I scolded. “I've always told you that there was nothing you couldn't talk to me about.”
“And you ain't never ever got to be scared to come to me when you got a problem,” Pee Wee told her.
“I
tried.
From the first time I had to go to her house, I knew she was crazy. I tried to tell you then. But every time I tried to tell somebody that that woman was not normal, nobody wanted to listen,” Charlotte hollered. “What's the point of you grown folks telling us kids to tell if somebody does something nasty to us, if you don't want to listen? And even if I had told you, you probably wouldn't have believed me, and I would have been in a worse mess with Harrietta!”
“I tried to pry the information out of you each time, now didn't I? I asked you point-blank why you didn't like Harrietta and why you thought she was strange. Why didn't you tell me then what she was making you and those other children do?” I asked.
“She said if we ever told, she'd shoot us,” Charlotte whimpered. “She even showed me and one of the other kids her gun. I was scared and worried that if I told you and you didn't believe me, she would shoot us dead.”
A gun threat was one of the things that old Mr. Boatwright had used to control me during my ordeal with him. Once, when I was only seven years old, he told me that if I ever told anybody about our “love affair,” he'd use that gun to shoot me and my mother. I had been so frightened that I remained silent for years. Had Rhoda not smothered him to death during our senior year in high school, I don't know how long he would have abused me.
“Uh, I'm the one that sent that anonymous package that ratted Harrietta out,” Charlotte said in a small voice.
Pee Wee and I looked at one another, then back to Charlotte with our mouths hanging open. “You?” I mouthed, keeping my voice low. Even though we were alone, I didn't feel confident that our conversation was private. I'd seen enough TV shows to know about hidden cameras and microphones. I looked around the room; then I leaned closer to Charlotte, whispering, “You were the one who sent that anonymous package to that reporter? The detective told us that they were still investigating that, and that they were almost sure that the informant was one of Harrietta's disgruntled associates.”
Charlotte nodded. “I guess you could say I was one of her disgruntled associates.” A puzzled look crossed Charlotte's face. “What does disgruntled mean?”
“Somebody who is not happy with a situation,” I explained. There was a lot more to the definition than that, but I didn't want to go into it at the moment.
“Well, then I really was a disgruntled associate,” she said, putting a lot of emphasis on her words. It seemed like she had matured a lot since the last time I saw her.
Pee Wee looked around the room; then he leaned closer to Charlotte, speaking in a voice that was even lower than mine. “Did you tell anybody else that it was you who sent that package to that reporter?” he asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “I didn't tell any of the other kids because I didn't know who I could trust. They were all too scared of that woman, so I didn't want to take a chance on telling them what I was going to do.”
“And exactly what all did you send that newspaper man?” he asked. “You don't even read the newspaper. How did you know about this man?”
“I saw him on TV talking about how he had helped expose some people who were running scams on old people, cheating them out of their life savings and everything else they owned. This year he helped them shut down that funeral director that was stealing jewelry off dead folks just before he had them buried. He mentioned a lot of other good stuff that he'd done, so I knew then that he was the right person for me to get in touch with. First I thought about sending him an e-mail, but I know they can trace e-mails. So I called up that reporter first, but as soon as he heard my voice and realized I was just a little kid, he told me to stop playing around on the telephone, so I hung up real fast. I had called him from a pay phone at school.” Charlotte paused and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. Her hands were so ashy and her hair looked so limp. I didn't know much about juvenile facilities and how they took care of the kids, but I knew that this was one place that my daughter did not want to be.
“I didn't know you even watched the TV news programs,” I managed.
“There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Mama.”

Other books

Broken Star (2006) by Murphy, Terry
Scala by Christina Bauer
Style Me Sexy (novella) by Chevrestt, Tara
By The Sea, Book Three: Laura by Stockenberg, Antoinette
Reckless by Lizbeth Dusseau
Sidelined by Emma Hart
The Walking People by Mary Beth Keane