by Gayle Tiller
She paused, looked at me directly in the eyes and said, "And my husband definitely had a reason to be careful and not just for his life. A few weeks ago, I learned that I was pregnant with our first child and Ralph was so happy. There's just no way he would not have told the doctor about being allergic."
What is this month? National Pregnancy Month for Women over 35?
The last thing I needed to hear was this. Forget about my biological clock ticking, it was at the point where it could explode any minute.
She had to be crazy to think that someone tried to off her husband. But hell, if she has the money to hire me, I'll take the case.
I said, "I'll do some checking for you, but I won't promise you anything. My fee is $400 per day plus expenses with a $2,500 retainer."
Kristal searched her purse for her checkbook, quickly wrote a check for $2,500 like it was nothing and shoved it at me.
I looked at Kristal and said, "I'll need to come by your house and just look around. How about 2:00 this afternoon?"
Kristal smiled and said, "Sure, I'll be there. My address is on the check."
"Kristal, I have an 8:00 appointment this morning. So if you don't mind, we need to end our meeting."
"Sure."
10
I got up, walked her to the door and shook her hand.
I had just made an easy $2,500. I would do some checking. But the odds that Ralph was murdered had to be equal to the odds of winning the lottery.
11
2
Chapter
New Chapter
I called my father from my office. My father worked in the homicide unit of the San Jose Police Department. He truly loved his work.
But my father was more than a good employee, he also was a good father.
When I was fifteen, my mother died of breast cancer. Mama's death was very hard on me. Dad's support and love gave me the strength to go on. Without him, I don't how I would have coped. He is a very special man and I am proud that he is my father.
"Dad, how are you?"
"Same old stuff. So what's up?"
"Do you know anything about the death of Ralph Woods?"
"His wife Kristal has been calling us for the past three days claiming that someone poisoned him with penicillin."
"Have any merit?"
"Between you and me, I think she's lost her mind. But because she and the Mayor are tight, we looked into the case. The toxicology report says it was an accidental poisoning."
"What about the fact that her husband was investigating into why the African-American candidate for fire chief suddenly left for Oakland?"
"Come on, that isn't enough. People leave departments for higher paying jobs all the time. So, Jazz did you take the case?"
"Dad, you know my motto. If they have the dinero, I'll take it."
"This woman just wasted money on you, because you're not going to find anything except for a malpractice suit."
"Maybe you're right. But you know me, once I get started I'm bound to find something."
"Jazz knowing you, you probably will. Anyway, I have a meeting with the Mayor in about five minutes, so I'll call you later."
12
The next few hours, I busied myself with phone calls to various clients.
At 1:30, I left the office to drive to Kristal's house, which was located in the Evergreen District of San Jose.
Her townhouse was part of a development for moderate-income buy-ers in San Jose. Kristal greeted me at the door and led me to the living room, which was almost empty except for a couch, a chair, and two small rugs on its hardwood floors.
I asked, "How long have you lived here?"
"We just moved in a few weeks ago. We used to live in a small one-bedroom apartment. We ordered more furniture for the house."
That explained the sparseness. "Did Ralph keep a diary or a journal?"
"Not that I know of."
"What about a notebook or log?"
"No, I don't think so. Anyway, I want to show you my husband's bracelet."
She placed a silver bracelet in my hand. The bracelet clearly indicated that Ralph Woods was allergic to penicillin and if he received a dose of penicillin, it could be fatal. The date of the bracelet was August 21, 1998.
"Do you have the bottle of the penicillin pills that your husband took?"
"Yeah, this is it," She said while she handed it to me.
I looked at the bottle's label. It read: Dr. Creighton, Penicillin take 1 cap-sule orally 3 times a day until gone. Ralph G. Woods 10/1/05.
I asked, "Can I take this with me?"
"Sure, go ahead."
I put the bottle in a plastic bag and then put it inside my briefcase.
"Where did your husband die?"
"He died at his fire station on Friday at 2:30 in the morning. No one was able to revive him."
"What's the station number?"
"Number 46- the Berryessa Fire station."
"I'll need to check out the fire station. Mind, if I look around the house?"
"No, go ahead."
I walked around, entered the study and saw a computer sitting on a desk. I beckoned Kristal to join me.
I pointed to the computer. "Do you know Ralph's password?"
"No," she responded.
"That's okay, I can get access." I pulled out authorization papers from my purse and handed them to her.
13
"After you sign this, I can contact the Internet provider and request access to his e-mail. Also, I would like to download everything so I can look through Ralph's files."
Kristal signed the papers. "I have a couple things that I am working on, but I should be done by tomorrow. After that you can copy everything."
"Sounds good. Changing the subject, you wouldn't have the phone number for Richard Carpenter?"
Kristal dictated the number to me.
"Kristal, I have to get going. But I'll call you after I do some research. If you think of anything, let me know."
We said our goodbyes. I left and drove back to my office.
When I sat down at my desk, I realized I had forgotten to eat my lunch, which was so typical whenever I took on a new case. I called the corner deli and ordered my favorite sandwich- turkey and Swiss on dark rye with a bag of corn chips and a Dr. Pepper.
I then called Chief Carpenter. To my surprise, his secretary said he was in.
"Chief Carpenter, my name is Jasmine Myers and I am a private investigator. I was hired by Kristal Woods."
Chief Carpenter responded, "I heard about Ralph. He was not only a good man, but one of the best firefighters we had in the department."
"Chief, I'm sorry about Ralph."
I paused for a few seconds and said, "His wife believes that his death wasn't an accident."
"From the accounts that I've received, he died from accidentally taking penicillin. It's too bad Kristal is looking for someone to blame."
"Why would Kristal want to blame someone?"
"I don't know. You really need to ask her."
"Chief, would it be possible for me to meet with you to discuss the case?"
"I am really busy this week with settling in as the new chief."
"All I need is a twenty minute interview."
"No more than twenty minutes."
"You can even time it. When the twenty minutes are up, I'll leave."
"Okay. How about 2:30 on Thursday at my office?"
"Sounds good to me. I'll see you then."
I hung up the phone. Dad could be right that it was an accident.
However, I knew that I needed to meet personally with the Chief and see 14
his reaction to my questions. Then I would know whether there was something to Kristal's allegations.
I dialed Keith's office phone number from memory. I hadn't spoken to him since he and Loretta were married five months ago. But hell, this was business. If anyone knew what was going on in the San Jose Fire Department, it would be Keith. He had connections throughout th
e city.
To my disappointment, Keith wasn't in. I left a quick message saying I was calling about the death of Ralph Woods. Knowing Keith, it would probably be at least couple of days before he returned my call. Just like the old days when he would practically ignore me.
Keith could be such a bastard at times. He had cared about the damn community more than me, but that was Keith, people first and his wife second.
The phone rang. I let it ring three times before answering it. I did this, because it gave folks the impression that I was busy.
"Myers Detective Agency. How may I help you?"
"Jazz, how are you? I got your message."
It was Keith. I wasn't ready to talk him.
"Keith, a client just walked in. Can I call you back in about an hour?"
"I have a late afternoon meeting so that won't work. How about lunch tomorrow at the Brick House?"
The Brick House was my favorite restaurant. Their deep fried catfish was absolutely delicious. My stomach began to ache.
But I knew I wasn't ready to see Keith. Not in a public place anyway.
"Keith, I already have lunch plans for tomorrow. How about a conference call on Friday at three?"
"Jazz, you know I don't like doing business over the phone. How about a late lunch Friday?"
The man was persistent. There was no way I was going to lunch with him. I lied, "Keith, I have a lunch meeting on Friday."
"How about Friday at four at your office?"
Goddamn it! I didn't want to see him. I felt like lying to Keith again, but instead I said, "Friday at my office at four will work for me."
"Good. I'll see you then."
"Bye."
I can't believe that I just agreed to see him. But it wasn't like a date or anything. We were meeting at my office and it was just business. Nothing more than that. If Keith thought he could try to rekindle something more, it just wasn't going to happen.
15
I called Sheila, my best friend. She is only one of two people who I really trust. The other is my friend Karen who lives in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Karen is a housewife and she has a house full of kids. Almost every year, she is having a baby; she and her husband don't believe in birth control.
Karen and I used to hang out together back in college. We were like sisters.
Karen got her Mrs. Degree and married Jack who was a medical resident at UC San Francisco. Karen moved with him to Mississippi where he set up a family practice in his hometown of Ocean Springs.
I see Karen every two or three years. We talk on the phone every now and then, but we're not as tight as we used to be.
For the last ten years, Sheila has been my best friend. I met her at a social for professional women. Ever since then, we have been inseparable.
Sheila works as the head librarian at Martin Luther King, Jr. Library in San Jose.
Looking at Sheila, she appears to be so pristine and demure. She is only 5'3" and weighs about 120 pounds. Her skin is the color of wheat toast and she wears her hair pulled back in a ponytail. With her glasses on, she looks like a classic librarian.
While Sheila has her work life in order, her personal life is another matter. Sheila has a weakness for men.
Sheila is not real picky when it comes to men. Her only requirement is that the man be good looking, has a little bit of intelligence, and is somewhere in the age range of 25 to 45.
A man's race doesn't matter. She's an equal opportunity dater. She has dated African-Americans, Latinos, Asians, Middle Easterners, Native Americans, Italians, Irish, Greeks, English, and Germans. The truth of the matter is that she would date a Martian if he met her requirements.
Of course, being a librarian, Sheila can't publicly have a different man on her arm every week. She never lets her men call her at work-except for John, William, and Gerard. She also never brings them to public gatherings. Her philosophy is that unless she is married to the man, there's no point of introducing him to anyone.
Not that Sheila is looking to get married. Sheila is 33 years old going on 18. For Sheila, there are just too many men and just too little time.
She and I always joke that on her wedding day, when the minister asks "Does anyone object?" she would be the first to raise her hand.
But so what if Sheila is a manizer. Men have been doing it for years. So long as Sheila is happy, that's all I care about.
16
"Sheila, how are you doing?"
"Jazz, everything is fine."
"I just called to see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight."
"Dinner? You never call me up during the week for dinner. What's up?"
"Nothing. I just haven't seen you in awhile and I thought you and I could get together."
"Whenever you say it's nothing, something is up."
"Sheila, I thought I was the private investigator. How about dinner at Kool Joe's?"
"It's Keith and his damn wife getting pregnant. Isn't it? How are you holding up?"
"I am doing fine."
"You know what I mean."
Sheila wanted to know if I had gone off the wagon. I have a drinking problem. I am not one of those drunks that you see on the street corner nor do I get blasted at public events. I am a closet drinker. I generally drink whenever I face a crisis. I pass out and won't show up for the office for a couple of days. Almost no one knows this; because whenever I am recovering from a drinking binge, I tell them I have the flu or a bad case of PMS.
Keith knew about my drinking problem. He made me go into a rehab program. Well, it didn't work. And yes, I have gone to programs, but I never could get into them. I just couldn't get into introducing myself as an alcoholic. It was like saying I was a leper or something.
So I still have my spells of drinking. But I haven't had a drink in a long time. It's been 132 days. This is the second longest time that I have been dry. The first marathon was 203 days. I'm hoping I don't start drinking again. I really don't want to, but sometimes I just can't help myself.
I answered, "Yes, Sheila I am still sober."
"Thank god. Are you going to counseling?"
"Sheila, you know I'm not into that."
"You should really go."
"I am not going."
"Okay that's your choice, but promise me if you get the urge to drink, call me."
"Sure." I wanted to tell her that almost every day I had the urge to drink, but I was not interested in a long drawn out conversation about my drinking problem.
"So what's going on with you and Keith?"
17
"We have a meeting at my office."
"A meeting at your office. What for?"
"To discuss a case."
"A case my ass. Why couldn't you talk to him over the phone?"
"Because Keith doesn't do business over the phone."
"You miss him, don't you?
"I don't know. Anyway, can we go to dinner?"
"Dinner. Sure. Not at Kool Joe's. The last time I ate there, I was sick for a week. How about the Brick House at seven?"
"Sounds good to me."
"See you later."
I hung up the phone. For the next few hours, I made phone calls to clients, logged onto the Internet to do research and e-mail.
I looked at my watch. It was already 6:15. I went to the lady's room and put on clear lip-gloss. I can't wear lipstick, because it makes me break out. I brushed my hair and piled it high on the top my head. I definitely needed to do something with it. The last time I had it permed; the relaxer had damaged my hair to the point where all my ends were split-ting. I needed to hack this stuff off and put it in braids. If I get bold enough, I'll grow dreads.
I put on a little concealer under my eyes to cover up the dark shadows and blush to give me some color. I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't beautiful, but hell, I looked decent. Since I wasn't going out on a date, this was good enough.
I went back to my office, gathered my briefcase, my purse, and locked the office.
18
3
Chapter
New Chapter
When I arrived at the Brick House, Sheila was already standing in line waiting to be seated. She was engaged in conversation with a young man of Asian and African-American descent. He was about 5'11" with a slim muscular build. He couldn't be more than 26 or 27 years old. I saw her scribble something on a napkin and hand it to him.
She nonchalantly turned toward me and said, "Hi, Jasmine. I would like you to meet Kevin. He's new in town. I'm going to show him around San Jose this weekend."
Two minutes in a restaurant and Sheila has already found a man. Well, that's Sheila for you.
I extended my hand to Kevin and shook his. "Pleased to meet you."
The waiter called out Kevin's name. Kevin then said, "It was nice meeting you Jasmine. I look forward to seeing you this weekend Sheila."
Sheila gave him a big smile and said, "So do I." Kevin then left.
Within a couple of minutes, Sheila and I were seated at a corner table.
I ordered my favorite-deep fried catfish with a baked potato, coleslaw and fresh squeezed lemonade. I am very particular about my lemonade; I don't like store bought lemonade or concentrate. I like good old-fashioned lemonade and the Brick House squeezes its own lemons.
Sheila ordered butterfish with white rice, cauliflower, and a glass of white wine. Damn, why did Sheila have to order wine? It's been too long since I had a drink. But it's not like I am into wine. Whiskey is my thing.
And right now, I don't need any. No, I have everything under control.
I exhaled and said, "Sheila, I see you're in a white mood tonight."
"Jazz, I'd thought I would celebrate."
"Celebrate what?"
I saw her play with her necklace. Threaded through her necklace was a gold ring.
I pointed at the gold ring and said, "Is that what I think is?"
"Yes, it's a wedding ring."
19
"What are you doing with a wedding ring?"
"I got married over the weekend."
"You got married. To who? John?"
"Hell no. John left me months ago. Said I couldn't make a commitment."