The Last Clinic (32 page)

“I don’t start my consultancy with the FBI until next week,” said Uther.

“Well, let’s use those days to our advantage. Go back over Reverend Jimmy’s various communications gizmos. See if there is something we missed.”

“His computer does have a firewall,” said Uther. “I was close to penetrating it when I began looking for the pattern in the saboteur’s activities.”

“See if you can’t penetrate it, or knock it down, or ram it with a Peterbuilt, or ever how it is you and the other members of the digiteria put it.”

“You’re beginning to understand the nomenclature. I’m impressed,” said Uther.

“What about me? What should I do?” said Tommy.

“Son, given your penchant for arresting people and then having to let them go, maybe this would be good time for some vacation. Take a couple of weeks off. Learn a new song. Tune up your guitar—that kind of thing. By the way, I heard it on the radio, coming in. They just defeated House Bill 674. No surprise, considering. Looks like your boyfriend can stay in business for another year, Darla. Then the right-to-lifers will be right back at it.”

Everyone stood up to leave.

“I just want you to know I’m available if you need me, Sheriff. Anytime, except, well, you know, from time to time, I do have those other obligations.”

“Yeah,” said Shelby, “from time to time.”

Two hours later, Uther was in Darla’s office, a stack of photos under his arm.

“You’re not going to believe what I’ve got here,” he said. “I found these behind a firewall.”

“More pornography?”

“I don’t know what you’d call it.”

He laid the photos out on her desk, chronologically—a dozen or so, 8 by 10s he’d printed off Reverend Aldridge’s computer.

Darla studied them one by one, in sequence. Then she made a call.

“Stephen. I need you to do something for me…” she began.

34

The Art.

Shelby invited Uther to observe the interrogation on the computer monitor. She figured it would be a useful experience for the young man—give him something he could tell all those smart asses at the FBI, how he’d seen a first-rate interrogator at work.

Darla walked in and sat. Then came Cecil Witherspoon and his daughter Wanda.

Shelby and Uther watched the monitor as Darla opened her file, took out the photographs, and placed them in front of her, face down.

 “What’s that?” said Cecil, pointing to the stack.

“Darla ain’t gonna answer him,” said Shelby.

 And she didn’t. She sat the recorder down on the table.

“This is voice activated,” she said, then turned to the girl. “It’s recording what we say, Wanda. In case we forget.”

 She looked at Cecil. “How was your vacation? Go anyplace special?”

Cecil was all smiles. “Went down to New Orleans. Wanda, she loves the Big Easy. Went to Dooky Chase, that great soul food restaurant.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you went to New Orleans for the food.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll get back to your vacation in a moment.”

She looked up from her notes and glanced at Wanda. “How are you feeling Wanda?” Wanda held up her hand as if she was throwing a football. “Football lady.”

“That’s right,” she said to Wanda, and turned her attention back at Cecil.

 “I know the detective that picked you up read you your rights. You understand you can have an attorney anytime you wish? For you or Wanda.”

The mention of Wanda needing an attorney made him shift in his seat. He gathered himself and put his happy face back on.

“We’re fine. Don’t need no attorney. Here to help. Both of us. Whatever you need to know. Only, Wanda she can get stuff mixed up sometimes, so if it’s okay with you I might need to speak for her sometimes.”

“The first thing I need to know, is Wanda under a doctor’s care at present?”

Cecil wagged his finger at Darla, but still trying to be friendly. “You ain’t suppose to ask me that. That’s confidential between the patient and doctor. Don’t have to tell nobody. Even I know that.”

Darla sighed, as though Cecil was going to make things more difficult than necessary.

“You’re right. It’s probably best if we perform our own examination.”

“She don’t need to be examined for anything,” said Cecil.

Darla rose and went to the door and called to a lady officer. “Could you show Ms. Witherspoon down to the examination room, and notify Dr. Nicoletti. He’s in the waiting room.”

The female officer, a young black woman appeared at the door and signaled to Wanda.

Darla returned to her seat.

“This ain’t going to take her too long,” said Shelby to Uther in the observation room.

“No reason to see a doctor.” Cecil looked worried. “Wanda ain’t sick. Especially not that doctor.”

“He’ll be gentle. I promise you. And he won’t question her. I’m the one that asks the questions.”

She waited for close to a minute.

“What’s going on, here? I already told you, we was both home the morning Reverend Jimmy was killed. Is that what this is all about?” He swallowed and licked his lips.

Darla poured a glass of water and pushed it towards him. “I was going to wait until Dr. Nicoletti finished his examination, but I suppose it isn’t really necessary.” She cleared her throat. “Why do you think we brought you in Cecil?”

“You tell me.”

“Well, we didn’t bring you in to question you about the DVD, the one with Kendall Goodhew or any of the other DVDs.

Cecil offered another chipper smile. “That’s good. ‘Cause I don’t know anything about any DVD.”

“Oh, we assume you’re the one who sent it, but that’s really not the issue. Why you sent it, that could be very important.”

She waited to see how he wanted to play it, but all he did was shrug his shoulders a little and continue to play dumb.

“Now watch this,” said Shelby. “She going to reach out and pat him on the arm, like consoling the bereaved.”

Which is exactly what she did. Then she said, “I know how hard this is. How worried you are as a father.”

“Very good, Sheriff,” said Uther.

“I’ve seen her in action a couple of times,” said Shelby.

“I’ll make this as easy as possible. Here’s what I think happened,” said Darla. “I think Reverend Aldridge had sex with your daughter.”

“That’s crazy talk,” Cecil snapped.

 “Is it? We know he had an obsession with taking the virginity of a young African American woman. Believe it or not, there’s a house of prostitution down in Natchez that specializes in this sort of thing. Reverend Aldridge had made arrangements with them to fulfill this fantasy of his. He was put on a waiting list. Two years. Two long years before he could fulfill his craving, his dirty little fantasy. That’s an eternity for someone with an obsession. He grew inpatient. And there was Wanda, down at the church. Wanda who used to make his meals. A beautiful, sweet, unspoiled, trusting virgin. A girl who mixes things up sometimes. What could be easier? And Reverend Aldridge, your Reverend Jimmy, he’d had been like a father to her. He saw that she was sweet and sexy and innocent, just what he was looking for. There for the taking. Sure, it sounds hard to believe at first. Even if he felt that way how could he chance it? But a man in the grip of an obsession will take a chance and convince himself that he can get away with it—especially a powerful man like Reverend Aldridge.

She stopped, pushed back, and folded her arms across her chest, as though maybe she was ready to take a break.

“What do you think Cecil? Am I getting it right? I’ll bet you could finish the story for me?”

The smile was gone from Cecil’s face but he refused to speak.

“Okay. Have it your way.”

She leaned forward close to his face, almost mocking. “How do you suppose he approached her? Your Wanda? Your little girl? Told her he knew how to make her feel good? Told her he loved her? Or maybe said it was a game they’d play? A harmless little game.”

Again she stopped.

Cecil bowed his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“When did you find out? Did Wanda tell you? I’ll bet she didn’t, not at first. Maybe she was confused or ashamed. Or maybe Reverend Aldridge convinced her not to speak. Maybe he threatened her. It didn’t matter. Because you understand morning sickness, don’t you? So you went out and bought a home pregnancy test or maybe two. And when the test were positive…”

He looked away.

This time she took his hand in hers, covering it with her other hand. “When you saw the results you confronted Wanda. That must have been very difficult, very painful, for both of you? The endless questions. You trying to be gentle with her. And getting more and more angry.”

“She has him. He’s reliving it,” said Shelby.

Uther could see it. Cecil not saying anything yet, but his jaw starting to clinch, anger getting mixed in with an aching heart.

“What was it? Sunday night. Right?” Her voice sounding of pity now. “He was your minister. He was her minister. How could he have done such a thing?”

“Stop it,” Cecil said, but it was clear he didn’t want Darla to stop. He needed someone to say the words, someone to speak the truth.

“And the whole sleepless night you couldn’t get the images out of your mind. Not that he forced her, got violent with her. No, worse than that, far worse, he made it into a game. A ritualistic slave-master sex fantasy. He used her, this man you practically worshiped. You must have been enraged. What father wouldn’t be? He raped her. He raped your little girl.”

“He has to admit it. He has to say it. Or else none of this means anything in court,” said Shelby.

She picked the stack of photos and held them against her chest with the pictures side facing her.

“And you know what? He took photos of the whole night. The whole sick night.”

She laid the photos out on the table in front of him, one after the other, like dealing cards face up.

“Look at this. Look what he did. He took pictures of it.”

Cecil held himself together for as long as he could and then the tears began. His fists, strong fists, both of them pounded on the table. Then he let out a loud scream.

She waited but only until he stopped pounding. “Look at me Cecil.”

Their eyes locked in on each other.

“You killed him, didn’t you? Killed him after he raped your little Wanda.”

Cecil’s answer was quiet, almost a whisper. “I was aiming for his balls. What I wanted to do was blow his fucking nuts off. But I got him in stomach and the chest instead.”

His eyes still locked on Darla’s eyes, he breathed deeply, let the air out slowly, and chuckled, just a little, at what he’d just said. Darla chuckled with him, the same kind of chuckle.

Shelby entered the room. Darla got to her feet. Then Cecil stood up. Uther remained in front of the computer, stunned, impressed, repulsed. It was over.

“I sent that tape to the detective,” Cecil said, “I found Reverend Jimmy’s tapes about a month ago, all of them.”

“And the trip to New Orleans, you were seeing an ob-gyn. Looking at the options?” said Darla.

“She needed to see a doctor,” said Cecil.

“Take him out to Raymond, and book him. I’ll call the DA,” said Shelby.

“But what about my Wanda, Sheriff? What’s going to happen to her now?”

“If you stand by your confession and plead guilty, there won’t be any need for Wanda to be called to the witness stand. We can spare her the pain,” said Shelby.

Cecil nodded his thanks, still stunned. “What I mean is, where she gonna go from here? Now that I ain’t going to be around? What’s she gonna to do?”

The answer came one month later.

On the recommendation of a Hind’s County psychologist, Family Court Judge Daniel Coopland concluded that Wanda Witherspoon possessed the necessary mental capacity to make responsible decisions regarding her own reproductive options. She moved to Gary, Indiana, to live with her aunt, and soon thereafter, terminated her pregnancy.

35

Congratulations All Around.

It was nearly dawn when Stephen Nicoletti made it home from the clinic and to the comfort of his bed. Exhausted but also exhilarated from a long and complicated delivery, he slid his body over until he could feel the warmth of his sleeping wife. He felt her backside move against him and knew that she was awake.

“Tell me,” she said. “How did it go?”

He lifted her long dark hair and kissed the nap of her neck.

“Lulu Brister became a great-godmother today. Nearly 9 pounds, a boy. I had to do a C-section.”

“And Beth?”

“It was difficult. Pregnant women always amaze me with their courage. She’s fine. The baby is fine. Lenore Aldridge is fine. Everybody is excited.”

“What about the father?”

“He elected not to be present.”

For a few moments, they drifted in silence, listening to each other breathe.

Then, she said, “You’re smiling again, aren’t you? I can sense it.”

“Where I do my work, there is sometimes sorrow, sometimes shame, but mostly there is joy. I am a privileged man.”

She reached back to him, took his arm, pulled it around her hip and led his hand to her belly.

“Stephen,” she said, pausing for just an instant, “I bought one of those home pregnancy tests today.”

The End.

Acknowledgments

The author would like to thank for following people for their contributions to this effort: Captain Steve Bailey of Hinds County Sheriff’s Department, James Dickerson of Sartoris Literary, Alex Craven, Robert Dozier, Sarah Largen of Largen Design, Cal Mayo, James Mayo, Lee Ann Mayo, Sandra Mayo, Scott Rullan, Anthony Vachris, and Cindy Phiffer.