When Rain Falls (9 page)

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Authors: Tyora M. Moody

BOOK: When Rain Falls
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Chapter Nineteen
Darnell's cup of coffee had grown lukewarm, but he sucked down the caffeine, anyway, desperate for energy. He wavered between eyeballing the papers on his desk and thinking about Candace Johnson. She'd been helpful with the leads so far, but his mind slipped into a dangerous zone. Something about her intrigued him. She definitely looked more down-to-earth last night, almost vulnerable, without the made-up face he saw when he first met her at the salon and then at the funeral.
Surprising restraint for a mother whose daughter had just got dropped off by a cop. He'd seen it all in his ten years, and he'd expected a whole lot more screaming. Probably didn't want to embarrass the girl. Darnell's shoulders dropped lower as he remembered some of the looks his own mother had given him. How many times did she have to get up in the middle of the night to pace the floor over his hard head? He really missed that woman. If only he'd known back then how much his mother had sacrificed for him.
Of course, his aunt Beulah, his mother's younger sister, didn't mind dropping hints. She'd called this morning, once again hounding him to come by the house for Sunday dinner. At some point in the conversation he'd casually asked his aunt how long she'd known her employer.
“Candy? You remember I used to work at the salon on the south side. Well, I first met her back when she used to sweep up hair around that salon for minimum wage. I tell you, that was years ago, even before she married Frank.”
He'd admired the woman more and more as his aunt chattered on about how Candace went to night school to earn her cosmetology certificate. “She learned how to do hair in between raising two young children and being a cop's wife.”
Remembering his own failed marriage, he knew that couldn't have been easy.
“She was determined, and I've never been prouder of anybody. Okay, well, you've made me pretty proud, too, Mr. Jackson. Imagine what Annie Mae must be saying from heaven about now,” Beulah added with a smile he couldn't see but knew was there as she bragged on him.
She continued by saying, “But to make this long story short, because you know I can go on, when Candy opened her salon, she looked me up and asked if I would come on board as one of her stylists. You can't beat the location. Crown of Beauty is easy to find for folks working in this area.”
What really blew his mind was his aunt's admission. Ever since he'd returned to North Carolina, she'd wanted him to meet Candace. By that time, he figured it was best to end the conversation.
What his aunt didn't know was that for the first time since his divorce, he was genuinely interested in getting to know a woman. He blew out a breath, figuring Candace would be interested in talking to him only as long as he was on this case, which wouldn't be for long. He intended to make an arrest in the very near future. Now, if he could just find the evidence he needed.
Across from Darnell, Brunson cleared his throat. The gargled sound distracted Darnell. He felt his jaw tighten but continued scanning the phone records. He highlighted Candace's home number.
Wait a minute.
He'd seen this number somewhere else. He backtracked and drew a few circles on the paper. Pondering the listed name next to the phone number, Darnell reached for the cup of coffee again but then caught a glimpse of the bottom. Suddenly drinking what appeared to be cold mud didn't appeal to his taste buds.
He clicked his keyboard to wake up the sleeping computer screen and then typed “Mitch Harris” into the search engine. After one click, he waited for the Web page to load. Several results came up, with most linked to either a newspaper or television Web site. He bookmarked a few of the recent articles.
Brunson cleared his throat again. This time, even louder.
Darnell peeked over his computer monitor to see if his partner was choking to death. He frowned at his partner. “You all right, man?”
With his square bifocals perched almost at the tip of his nose, Brunson gazed over Darnell's left shoulder.
“Well, if it ain't Mr. Hollywood.”
Darnell groaned inside.
Unbelievable.
Serena appeared at his desk, smiling like she'd just won the lottery. He wished she would disappear through the floor or something. Maybe now was a good time to replenish his coffee.
Most of the time Serena appeared to be playing, but his instincts told him she was seriously flirting. Serena was recently divorced, from what he heard was husband number two, and Darnell intended to dodge her like the bubonic plague. He wasn't trying to be husband number three. He had no desire to be anyone's husband. At least not to a woman like Serena. In a lot of ways, she was like his ex-wife. Only interested in what she could get out of the relationship.
Like a shadow, the reporter appeared by his side at the coffee area. “So, how are things going with the Coleman case?”
He spilled coffee on the counter versus getting the liquid into his cup. A word he'd tried to ban from his vocabulary slipped out. “Man, you can't come up in here. Besides, I'm busy right now. Talk to the captain.”
He headed back to his desk. To his dismay, Serena tailed him again and then positioned herself on the edge of his desk. Through clenched teeth, he demanded, “What are you doing?”
She grinned and leaned over. He tore his eyes away but still saw too much where the deep V-neck sweater hung way to low. Man, he had to get rid of her. Fast.
“I'm just dropping in to see a good friend. No harm in that.”
“Friend?”
“That's right. I got something for you. I'm hoping if I help you, you can trade favors.” She tossed a legal-sized envelope on his desk.
Now, she just looked plain goofy grinning like a Cheshire cat. Against his better judgment, he slipped open the thick envelope, anyway. Anything to get rid of her. Out spilled several black-and-white photos.
Interesting.
Darnell picked up one. “Where did you get these from?”
“Well, I couldn't tell you my source if I wanted to. They just mysteriously appeared on my desk this morning.”
Pamela appeared happy in the first photo. Too happy, in fact, with Mitch's arm draped intimately across her shoulders. In one photo, a lip-locking kiss told the story he needed verified. These photos had to have been taken by someone doing a little investigative work on the side. These definitely were not for the public's eye. Darnell looked at the stamped date. The envelope was mailed recently, the day before Pamela's funeral, in fact.
“Jackson, I want you in my office now.”
Darnell jumped in his chair, sending Serena off balance. The sound of Captain Ransom's voice zapped him into motion.
Serena poked him. “Hey, you've got to tell me something. Is Mitch Harris a suspect?”
Darnell peered over his shoulder. The captain looked like he was ready to shoot him. He blew out his breath. “Look, these are just photos, not evidence, so don't go starting something to get your story. This is a murder case, not a tabloid series.”
He pushed the photos back toward her.
“No, keep them. I know I owe you. Just don't forget me on this one.” She turned and marched out. Just what he needed: to owe her, of all people, a favor. He wasn't falling for that one. He quickly locked his computer and then grabbed his notes. He grabbed the package of photos, too, and headed to the captain's office.
“Close the door behind you.”
The glass door rattled a little after Darnell shut it.
Nice going, Darnell.
He managed to get under the captain's skin without trying these days. No need to alienate the boss any further.
He had a long history with Walter Ransom that dated back to a time that Darnell would rather no one else knew about. Back when he got in trouble on a regular basis, even spending one night in a jail cell because his momma couldn't afford to bail him out.
When Darnell was growing up without a father back then, Officer Ransom became a savior of sorts for him. It was pure dumb luck, or God was still looking out for him, when the detective position became available in the Charlotte Police Department.
Really, the only drawback to his move was having Brunson as a partner. He asked the captain, “Didn't you want Brunson to join us?”
“We're keeping Brunson busy on other stuff. With his ex-partner's wife being a close friend to the victim, we thought we might keep you lead on this one.”
That seemed a little strange to Darnell, but he wasn't going to complain. He probably needed a break from Brunson, who had a tendency to rub him the wrong way.
“So, Jackson, what do you have for me? I need you to have something, like, yesterday.”
“I can bring you up to date on what I have so far.”
“Well, it better be good.”
Darnell walked over to the board and pinned up a photo of Pamela. Her eyes were bright and alive. She'd been dead almost a week, which he noted by writing the date under her photo.
He faced the captain. “We have interviewed all the participants in the art gallery opening, and everyone's stories checked out. The gallery owner, Avante, has been out of town for a few days now, but I have an appointment with him this afternoon. There appears to be some security tapes we could access.”
The captain cleared his throat. “What about this gallery owner? When did he leave town?”
Darnell shrugged. “He left the day after the gallery opening. The gallery event was a big affair for the entire firm since Pamela was able to get the assault and battery charges dropped for this Avante fellow. He paid her very well.”
The captain sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his paunch. His white shirt sleeves strained against his biceps, which were no longer muscular. If he decided to burst into anger, the Incredible Hulk would have nothing to worry about given the captain's large blobs called arms. “So you don't think there's any connection between him leaving town and her demise?”
Darnell shrugged. “For now, he appears to be a happy client. Happy not to be behind bars. Plus, she did get him off the hook.”
The office door rattled. Captain Ransom yelled, “Come in.”
Brunson entered. His partner swooped in past him and dropped a file on the captain's desk. “Here's the report so far. I pulled recent cases from the past year, looking for disgruntled victims or family members. There are a dozen or so. I still need to check with the parole officer to see if anyone has been naughty. A lot of paperwork.” He added, “Now the recent alleged charges against Avante Lafayette might place him as a person of interest.”
The captain frowned. “How did you come up with that theory?”
“Yeah.” Darnell wasn't too pleased. If he was supposed to be lead on this investigation, why was Brunson bringing time bombs to the table? “The charges were dropped. What's the problem?”
Brunson eyed him. “The problem is this thug wannabe, artsy type probably had one of his friends visit the victim. You know, with threats. The person dropped the charges out of the blue. It wasn't that Ms. Coleman did anything special.”
Shaking his head, Darnell responded, “You think someone offed Pamela to get back at Avante through his lawyer? Why not just go for Avante himself?”
The phone on the captain's desk sprang to life.
Darnell respected Brunson's seniority. But most of the time they didn't see eye to eye. Recalling the crime scene, Darnell decided that this seemed more like a crime of passion than some dredged-up war between two men.
The captain grunted responses to whoever was on the phone. Darnell detected from the loud male voice on the other end that somebody wasn't happy.
“Yes, sir, we are on it. Yes, we will get you something as soon as we can.” A few seconds later the captain slammed the phone down. “I'm too old for this. Guess what? That was Judge Coleman. You guys, we need something.”
“Yeah, Mitch Harris,” said Darnell.
Both Brunson and the captain looked at him like he'd lost it. Darnell pulled out one of the photos Serena had delivered to him and slapped it on the board. “I questioned this man point-blank about his relationship with Pamela. For a woman who was a top lawyer at his firm and his mistress, he was Mr. Denial.”
He pulled two more photos out of the file, displaying the crime scene. “Nothing missing. No sign of a break-in. Whoever killed Pamela clearly had some serious rage.” He pointed to the pear-shaped diamond pendant. “This was probably ripped off her neck and slung to the floor by the killer. Fellows, this was a crime of passion. Somebody released their anger on and toward Pamela Coleman. It also had to be someone she trusted. Either they were in the car with her or they had the ability to let themselves into her house and wait for her.”
The captain pulled on his beard. “Mitch has a tight alibi. Was she dating somebody? Was there any sign of anyone in the car with her? Maybe some jealous guy knew about the relationship she had going on with her boss, and didn't want to play second fiddle.”

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