“Didn't he rape her?” Barbara could feel anger rising over her grandmother's defense of such a despicable person after all these years.
“Of course he didn't. You think I'd bring a rapist into my house?”
“Women do it all the time,” Barbara countered.
“You listen to me, B, Darpan may have been a lot of things, but he was no rapist and murderer.”
“Well, who then, Ramani? Who do you think did it?” Barbara was beginning to feel exasperated and more tired than she should be for one in the afternoon. “Because wasn't his stuff found in Taylor?”
Ramani sat up very straight. “They were having an affair.”
Barbara didn't want to argue with her grandmother about how she'd read that there were all sorts of holes in Darpan's story. Anger was slowly rising in Barbara.
“You defended him even though all the evidence pointed to him punching Taylor that night.”
“Except Darpan isn't left-handed, and it was Taylor's right temple that was struck,” Ramani said quietly.
“Neither is my mom, but she was grilled for weeks by the police. She wasn't just some kid. She's your daughter and she was a suspect, as well as my dad and Aunt Carrie, in a crime they didn't commit. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”
“Darpan didn't do it,” Ramani said evenly.
“Oh, what, and my mom did? My dad?”
Ramani was silent.
“You didn't stand up for her, did you?”
“She accused Darpan of being somewhere he wasn't.”
“How do you know he didn't go out to meet Taylor that night? You could have been asleep, like Detective Greiner said.”
Ramani's lips stretched into a humorless smile. “Believe me, there was no way he could have gotten up and returned to bed without waking me. I'm a very light sleeper. The flashing lights of the police cars woke me up, for God's sake. Darpan was right next to me. He didn't even stir. I don't know what happened with Taylor that night, but the idea that he was out there talking to her––that he would have struck her––is ludicrous. Dora never liked Darpan.”
“And you think she would make up seeing him talking to Taylor because she didn't like him?” Barbara had read the book and knew where Ramani stood on the matter. But talking to her grandma, hearing her actually say that she thought her mother's story was made up, was a kind of deceit that Barbara couldn't fathom. Her mother had been alone in all of this. How could Ramani have turned her back on her own daughter? Stood up for a man who admitted to cheating on her with an underage girl?
“Dora's story fell apart, Barbara. She couldn't remember certain things. Her memory was fuzzy and inconsistent about where she went after she supposedly saw Darpan talking to Taylor. First, she told the detectives that she went back to Enzo's. Then she said she went to the backyard and then back to Enzo's.”
“You really think my mom was lying about seeing Taylor with Darpan? She told the police she saw them together before it was even discovered in the autopsy that the two of them were sleeping together.”
Ramani's face grew hard and she seemed to shut down.
“Aren't you also left-handed?” Barbara threw that last part out, having read that even Ramani had been a suspect for a short while because she was a southpaw, and she wanted her grandmother to feel the sting of the ridiculous accusation, just how her mother must have felt when Ramani accused her of making things up.
“The angle of impact would have had to have come from someone taller than me,” Ramani said calmly.
“Which leaves my dad, and you thought my mom was covering for him.”
Ramani took a sip of her drink. Her silence said everything. Barbara had hoped that Ramani would deny her comment, contradict what she'd read about her grandmother's point of view in American Murder.
“My dad would have never done that,” Barbara hissed. “Never. He would never hit a woman, and he had no reason to attack Taylor.”
“I know it wasn't Darpan,” Ramani said quietly.
Barbara shot up, her sangria sloshing out of her glass and onto the carpet. She looked down, startled at the red spreading into what would be a stain. She set her glass down and said, “I'm going.”
Ramani got up, too, and they eyed each other for a moment. Barbara wondered what she thought her grandmother would tell her when she brought up Taylor. Not this.
“I love you, Barbara,” Ramani said. “But Dora lied about that night. What I want to know is why.”
“Okay. I can't do this with you anymore. Do you hear yourself? This is crazy talk.”
Ramani's hands covered her mouth, old veiny hands, the knuckles large. “Oh, Barbara, don't leave like this. I was so happy to have you come by. Don't let the poison of our past spill into your life.”
Barbara paused, her hand on the door handle. “Right now, it's about my mom. Do you understand? This is about my mom and helping her. I'm not going to let her go down.”
Ramani shook her head and reached out her arms. “No, of course not. Oh, please let me give you a hug.”
“No.” Barbara took a breath. “You want to pick teams? I'm on my mom's team.”
30
Serene - July 1996
* * *
The attorney, Jim Roberts, was waiting for them at the Culver City Police Department Investigations Bureau. Clearly, he'd been asleep when Ramani called him. It was near one in the morning. He sipped black coffee from a styrofoam cup, the skin under his eyes puffy and his hair a bit disheveled. The buttons of his shirt strained to contain his bulging stomach. Jim guided Serene, Kanani and Ramani past Bets and her parents and Steve with his parents and sister, waiting to talk with detectives. Enzo was already in a private room, giving his formal statement. The attorney led them to a somewhat private corner of the larger space. He asked similar questions to Detective Greiner, scribbling notes as Serene spoke.
Serene went through the account of her experience, pausing when she got to the part about stepping outside, her mind scrambling to remember the gap in time that happened after she'd seen Taylor with Darpan, but before she went back to Enzo's.
Jim looked up from his notetaking, waiting. "What happened after you left Enzo's?"
"I walked over to my house and I was going to go in, but I heard talking and it sounded like Taylor, like she was talking to someone and crying."
Jim nodded.
"So I kind of hid."
"Hid where? Where were you exactly?" He held his pen poised over the paper.
"I was standing in front of the steps to our house. On the other side is this grassy space between our house and the neighbor's."
"Enzo's?"
"No. The other neighbor."
"Okay."
"I heard Taylor say, 'everyone hates me.' And then I heard Darpan say, 'everyone doesn't hate you. Come here.' Something like that."
Ramani slowly turned to glare at Serene.
"I wasn't exactly sure where their voices were coming from, but then I saw them. They couldn't see me, or I guess they didn't notice me. There's this hibiscus bush by the front of our house near the steps; I was standing behind it, but I could still see them through the branches."
"This ought to be interesting," Ramani muttered.
Jim gave her a cursory glance before focusing back on Serene.
"Darpan put his arms around Taylor and let her cry on his shoulder, and then he started to kiss her and he told her to relax."
Ramani rolled her eyes.
“Then Taylor said, ‘I just wanted to talk. That's all.’”
"Liar," Ramani hissed. "You're lying. Fucking liar!"
"She's not no liar," Kanani spoke up. "We saw Taylor the other day at your house, and Darpan was there. They were acting some weird."
Jim put his hand up, palm out, a sign for them to stop.
Serene crossed her arms tight. She turned her body away from Ramani.
"What happened after that?" Jim asked.
"She pushed him away."
"And did he hit her
?"
"No. He just put his arms up in that way he always does when he's giving in to something. Like, hey, I'm just here for love and peace." Serene rolled her eyes. "After I saw them, it only confirmed what I thought earlier, that something was going on between them. It made me feel sick and I… I didn't want to go into the house. I turned around and went back to Enzo's."
"Darpan was never outside with that girl, and you know it," Ramani said, keeping her voice low, although the anger was loud and clear. "Did you get in a fight with Taylor over Steve?"
Serene shrank back from her mother's wrath.
"Where were you?" Jim asked Ramani.
"In bed with Darpan. He never left the bed to go outside. We watched a movie and fell asleep."
Jim sighed. "What were you watching?"
"When Harry Met Sally. We went to bed right after Serene and her friends left for Enzo's, and that's where we stayed until the ambulance and the flashing lights of the police cars woke me up. Darpan was right next to me. He's a deep sleeper. I got out of the bed without him noticing and stepped out to see what was happening. I had a bad feeling when I saw the crowd at Enzo's. I got dressed and went right over."
"And Darpan stayed at the house?" Jim asked.
"He slept through the whole thing. I only woke him to let him know what had happened after I picked up Serene from Enzo's and to tell him we were going to the station."
Jim nodded and flicked the pen back and forth in his fingers.
"Is it possible that you may have dozed off while watching the movie?" The attorney asked Ramani.
"Of course, it's possible. But it didn't happen."
Jim shook his head. "This is a problem. We have conflicting stories. And Ramani, I'm representing Serene. Darpan, as you know, given what Serene is telling us, will need to hire his own attorney."
"Why don't you tell the truth," Ramani growled at Serene. "This is a serious accusation you're making against Darpan. I know you don't like him, but you're potentially destroying an innocent man's life. It's just like with Cedar." Ramani sucked in her breath. "Krista asked you to watch him for a moment, and you let him climb up on that ledge."
Serene felt her body grow cold, and for seconds there was just the sound of Ramani's breathing. Jim lowered his notepad. "Can I have some time alone with Serene?"
Ramani made an about-face and took herself to a water cooler, grabbing a paper cone from the dispenser. Jim gave Kanani a look, and she wandered away after giving Serene a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Serene."
Serene met the attorney's eyes, not bothering to wipe the tears rapidly slipping down her cheeks.
"Your mother is right. It is a serious accusation to say you saw Darpan interacting intimately with Taylor. My job is to get all the facts so that I can properly represent you. If you keep information from me or give false statements, it makes my job that much harder. Do you understand?"
Serene nodded down at her hands.
"So, I'm going to ask you to tell me honestly. Did you see Darpan and Taylor talking earlier tonight, and did you see Darpan kissing Taylor?"
"Yes," Serene whispered.
"I want you to tell me everything you remember again."
She did, the missing gap of time between Darpan and Taylor's kiss and her return to Enzo's nagging at her all the while. The problem was that she'd found herself back in Enzo's kitchen with no recollection of how she got there.
"And you saw nothing else happen between them?"
Serene shook her head, no.
"Darpan!" Ramani called out, prompting Serene to look over her shoulder. He was being led into the room by two policemen. "What are you doing here?" She asked, aghast.
"I don't know, man," he said with a shrug, trying to look casual and cool, but his features were pinched with tension, his skin a pasty white. "They want to ask me about that girl Taylor."
Ramani stormed over to Darpan and the officers escorting him.
"This is madness! He has nothing to do with Taylor."
"Ma'am, please back down," one of the officers said.
"Don't you tell me to back down," her eyes bulged with rage. But Jim was already at her side, taking her arm.
"Ramani. Let's not make a scene."
"You've got to help him," her tone turned desperate.
"I'm representing Serene. It would be a conflict of interest. You know that."
"I'll get her someone else. He needs representation now. They'll fleece him."
Serene tried not to look over at Bets and Steve with their parents, watching her mother abandon her at that moment. Tried to shield her shame by turning away, but not before she caught Ron reaching for Carrie's hand and clasping it firmly in his, a subconscious reaction of one parent watching another turn her back on her own child.
31
Detective Greiner - July 1996
* * *
For the second time that day, Detective Greiner canvased Jackson Avenue. She'd made her rounds in the morning around seven, but most of the residents had already left for work. No one she talked to had seen or heard anything suspicious Monday night between ten and ten thirty PM, other than the whelp of police sirens and their flashing lights waking them up. It was seven-thirty in the evening now. A full twelve hours had gone by. Greiner wanted to give people time to get home, unwind, have dinner and a glass of wine possibly. The detective was aware that every hour that went by further compromised people's memories. She'd returned to the houses whose doors were not answered earlier. So far, there was no luck. If it weren't for a tangle of night blooming jasmine Greiner stopped to admire, she might have missed the smaller residence set back behind an enclosed porch shrouded by foliage. The detective let herself in at the tall wooden gate and rang the bell. A woman with short light brown hair and tired eyes answered.
"Yes?"
"Sorry to disturb you. I'm Detective Greiner." She showed the woman her badge. "Last night, there was a murder that took place on this street."
The woman's brows shot up. "On Jackson?"
"Yes, ma'am. A teenage girl."
The woman gasped like they all did.
"We're just trying to understand what happened. Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary last night between ten and ten thirty?"
The woman shook her head no, but then frowned in thought.
Detective Greiner held her breath.
"You know, I wouldn't call it out of the ordinary, but I think it was around the time you mentioned. I came out here to have a cigarette. Trying to quit. My niece is staying with me, the smoke bothers her."
Detective Greiner nodded her head sympathetically.
"That house," the woman pointed across the street in a southerly direction. Greiner felt her heart speed up.
"The Colonial style with the American flag?"
"Yes. That one. I saw a girl walk up to the front door. She was kind of swaying. I thought she was drunk. I saw her knock on the door, and a guy answered. He let her in and then she left and crossed over to my side of the street."
Detective Greiner opened her small pad of paper to write down the details. "What did the girl look like?"
"Well, she was too far away to tell. I think she had blond hair, maybe."
"And the guy who answered the door?"
"Only that he was a guy. I really didn't pay that much attention. My only thought was, I hope she's not planning on driving. Was that the girl who was murdered?" The woman's mouth turned down, and she stared sadly at the detective.
Greiner ignored the question and asked, "How long do you think she was in the house?"
"Not long. Seconds."
"How many seconds?"
"Um. I don't know, really not that long. Under a minute."
"After the girl left the house and crossed the street, did you see where she went?"
"No." The woman shook her head. "With the bushes here, I really can't see down the street on my side unless I step out to the sidewalk."
"Other than what you saw
, did you hear anything suspicious?"
The woman shook her head again, crossing her arms. "How awful," she said.
Greiner handed the woman her card. "If you remember anything else, Ms…?"
"Smith. Olivia Smith. That ought to be easy to remember," she added with a sad smile.
"Thank you, Ms. Smith."
Greiner continued knocking on the doors of the houses whose residents hadn't been home in the morning. But Olivia Smith was the only one who saw anything last night and what she saw was very interesting. The colonial house with the American flag was Steve Bates' house. He never mentioned getting a knock on his door during the half hour pocket of time that Taylor was unaccounted for. Taylor had blond hair.
32
Carrie - July 1996
* * *
The principal's interruption of Mr. Reid's lecture on the three branches of government garnered the attention of the smattering of students sitting in the summer class.
"Carrie," Principal Morgan said. "Follow me, please."
Carrie slid back her chair, unsure. "You can grab your stuff," the principal added.
She placed her textbook and notebook in her backpack and glanced at her best friend Bentley, who gave her a quizzical smile.
"See you after class," Bently said.
Carrie squeezed her bag to her chest, too worried to respond.
It had only been two days since Taylor was found dead at Enzo's, and the aftermath of Taylor's death lingered oppressively in their home. Last night Steve went straight to his room after work, shut the door and didn't come back out until morning. Her mom made dinner, but no one ate it. Her dad, cocooned in his easy chair, had stared dully at the TV, drinking through half a bottle of whiskey, letting baseball wash over him.
Carrie didn't have a good feeling as she followed Principal Morgan's brisk stride, the woman's pumps clicking rhythmically on the tile floor. In her office, a policeman was waiting.
"Come on in, Carrie," Principal Morgan said, gesturing toward two chairs by the desk. Carrie took in a woman in business clothes similar to what her mom wore to the office, sitting in one of the chairs. She had frizzy dark hair, a sharp little beak of a nose and eyes that were too close together. The frumpy comedienne from old Saturday Night Live reruns came to mind. Gilda something, Carrie thought.
Her Last Memory Page 15