by Gayle Tiller
"Yes, it is."
"What happened to her fiancé?"
"My brother Jerry, he is still around."
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"Jerry used to date her."
"Yes. My brother has never been good at picking women."
"Let me ask you something, do you think Rebecca is faithful to her husband?"
"Melvin had prostate cancer a couple years ago and it left him impot-ent. So it's not like he can do anything with anyone. And for Rebecca, it was a blessing."
I was tempted to say that for any woman it would be a blessing.
Melvin was the kind of man that if you made love to him, you would definitely have to fantasize about someone else. Because if you didn't, you would be sick to your stomach.
Instead, I asked, "Why is that?"
"Before Rebecca met Melvin, there was a permanent bed for her at the women's clinic. Rebecca was so goddamn fertile if Rebecca looked at a man, she got pregnant. Almost every year, she would be knocked up by somebody. Of course, she would get it taken care of. And at the rate that she was going, she would had a goddamn Brady Bunch of kids."
"She didn't have any of her babies."
"No, she didn't want her Daddy to find out. Besides she wanted to maintain her size six figure."
"What was she using?"
"Shit, she flunked birth control 101. She wasn't using anything. Abortion was her form of birth control. She is one stupid bitch when it comes to taking care of her body."
"Is Rebecca messing around with anyone?"
"I know she is not messing with anyone, because she would have wound up pregnant again. Or Rebecca finally got smart and bought a shit load of morning after pills."
"Let me ask you this, why wouldn't she remember whether Melvin was sleeping beside her at two in the morning?"
"You mean on the night that Ralph was killed?"
"Yes, that night."
"I really don't know."
Damn, so it is possible that Melvin Grady could have switched Ralph's pills.
"What do you know about Melvin Grady's past?"
"What do you mean?"
"Has he ever been accused of anything?"
"Oh, you mean the drug dealing. Yeah, he used to. But he never got caught."
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"What do you mean by that?"
"Josie Santos called the FBI on him about him selling drugs to her son.
Initially, they wouldn't do anything. But when she told them about the house, they took the case."
"The house?"
"The man owns a two million dollar house in Los Altos Hills and a whole bunch of other property."
"And the Feds didn't nail his ass? There's no way that he could own that on a firefighter's salary."
"Not on a firefighter's salary, but he had the court papers to prove that he inherited a huge chunk of change from his grandfather back in the 80s. His grandfather was one of these recluse types and left over fifteen million dollars in his estate. Because Melvin's parents were dead and he was the only child, he got everything. So the FBI dropped the case."
"What was his grandfather's name?"
"I think it was Russell Grady."
"Did he die here?"
"No, he lived in San Francisco. Why are you asking me about this?"
"I might want to check it out."
"Yeah, I figured that."
"Cindy, if Melvin is so rich why the hell is he a firefighter?"
"I have no idea. That's something you should ask him."
"Alright, I'll be in touch with you."
Did Melvin kill Ralph, Richard Carpenter, and Dan Fulton? It wasn't like he needed the Fire Chief's salary. On the other hand, he might be a power freak. So the money wouldn't matter.
Or maybe the drug dealing stuff was going to come out. But that didn't make sense either, because the FBI had exonerated him.
But there was something about Melvin that I didn't trust. He was too cocky for my tastes and his wife as far I could tell was a fool.
* * *
When I got to the court, it was already 3:00. I looked through the microfiche and located the case number for Melvin's grandfather's file. Melvin's grandfather apparently had died back in 1983. I wrote down the information for the clerk who was a petite overweight woman in her late forties.
She said, "This is a very old case. It was closed out years ago. It's in storage. It will take a few days to get it if you want to wait that long."
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"How can I expedite the process?"
"Ma'am, you can't. Now, do you want the case?"
"Sure. Can you tell me who the lawyer was on the case?"
"Ma'am, that information is on the microfiche. But I can check the computer for you."
The woman punched the case number into her computer and said,
"Philip Meeks."
"I guess he does a lot of probate cases."
"No, I have never heard of him. But he might have been before my time."
"Do you have a phone number for him?"
"No, I suggest you contact the State Bar."
"Do you have their phone number?"
"It would be easier for you to do an online search for him."
"Do you have their web site address?"
"No, but you can find it."
I mumbled good-bye and left.
* * *
When I got to San Francisco Main Library, I logged onto the Internet. I found that Phillip Meeks was disbarred and his address was a PO box. That was just dandy. How the hell was I going to find this man?
It wasn't like I could show up at his place and question him.
I looked up his PO Box. To my surprise, it was in downtown San Francisco. And that was walking distance.
* * *
I approached the postal worker at the counter. He was in his early fifties. He had a paunch and his teeth needed a good cleaning. His hair was worn in an outdated Afro style from the 80s. I said, "Sir, I need the address of my former lawyer Phillip Meeks."
"Phillip Meeks, was your lawyer? What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. He helped me out with my grandmother's estate."
"That brother wasn't no probate lawyer. All the man used to do was defend criminals from the prostitutes all the way up to the drug dealers.
The man had a lot of money until he got caught."
"Caught doing what?"
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"The FBI entrapped him for money laundering."
"So where is he now?"
"In the federal pen in Pleasanton. He got ten years for money laundering along with possessing crack cocaine. Hell, if he had been white boy, they would have done nothing to him. No, lady, your lawyer is in prison if he really was your lawyer."
I said, "He was my brother's lawyer. I was too embarrassed to tell you."
"Don't be. We all have problems in our families. Some worse than others. So what is your brother in for?"
"Selling crack. But the cops planted it on him."
"Yeah, that's what they all say. Was it Oakland cops?"
"No, San Jose."
"They're corrupt as hell. Your brother might be telling the truth. Anyway, he better find a new lawyer, 'cause Meeks ain't getting out no time soon."
* * *
Meeks was a man in his early sixties dressed in orange coveralls. His skin was golden brown and his hair- what was left of it- was salt and pepper. He had at least a day's growth of beard. He was 6'6" and he looked like he could use at least 30 pounds to fill out his large frame. He was not a handsome man, but he was not bad looking either. I sat behind the window separating us and said, "My name is Jasmine Myers and I am a private investigator. I am investigating the deaths of Richard Carpenter, Ralph Woods, and Dan Fulton."
"Those San Jose firefighters. I heard about them. But I don't know why you came out to see me."
"I was hoping you could give me some information about Melvin Grady."
"The name sounds familiar."
"He was a former client."
"He was? What was he charged with?"
"You probated his grandfather's estate."
"You got me mixed up with someone else. When I was practicing law, I mostly did criminal. That's what got me into trouble. But I never probated anyone's estate."
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"Yes, you did. Back in 1983, you probated the estate of Russell Grady and that's how Melvin inherited over fifteen million dollars. The court records list your name as the attorney of record."
"Oh that case. I kind of remember it."
"Why would you as a criminal defense attorney represent Melvin in a fifteen million probate matter?"
"Look miss, so what if I probated the estate twenty years ago. As an attorney, I had the right to handle any type of case. I really don't see the relevance."
"Did you know there were allegations that Melvin used be a drug dealer."
"Melvin, a drug dealer? He was a cop and an honest one. Anyway, if you have something on Melvin, you should go to the authorities. There is no way that I can help you."
"I think the probate was fabricated and he used it as a way to cover up the proceeds of his drug deals."
"You have a very creative imagination. The probate was real. So you are just wasting your time."
"Aren't you in here for money laundering?"
"I was framed. I lost everything and my wife left me. My oldest son won't have anything to with me. He is a practicing DA. My middle son can't hold a job and he has kids by four different women. And my daughter thank God, she didn't turn on me. She is the only one who sees me."
"What does she do?"
"She's a kindergarten teacher. She just got married to a brother who is a college professor, Keith Bowers in San Jose. And they are expecting her first child."
Meeks was Loretta's father. Damn, I never would have guessed that her father was doing time in prison. And if I were a gossip, I would tell Sheila. But because I wasn't, I knew I wouldn't tell anyone.
"I am happy for her."
"I'm glad she married a good black man."
I almost choked on his words that Keith was a good black man. I guess for someone who likes staying at home and waiting for him. But I wasn't the one.
I swallowed hard, "Well, I am glad she found somebody."
"Well she deserves it after what she's been through."
"You mean with you being in prison."
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"More than that. My daughter used to be a kleptomaniac. You know take things without realizing it. She would just take small things like pencils and paper. Nothing major. Well, the church where she used to go to-Holy Baptist, the church deacon accused her of stealing money. My daughter isn't a thief. It wasn't until the Reverend stepped up to her defense, everything was dropped on the condition that she stop going there. It was really hard on her, because the church was really important to her. But now because she is married to Keith, she is going to a new church and she is doing really well now."
So Loretta was a thief just like her daddy. Goddamn, so much for her facade of innocence. And she probably was still stealing from the church coffers.
I mumbled, "I'm sorry what your daughter had to go through."
"So am I."
"What is the status of your case?"
"The status. I'm here. All of my appeals were denied."
"Mr. Meeks, there are three innocent people who are dead. I think Mr.
Grady had them killed."
"There is no way that Grady would kill off anyone. That wasn't his style."
"What you mean it wasn't his style?"
"Like I said, Grady is no killer. I think you have been watching too many of those bad cop movies."
"So is it possible Grady laundered money to cover up the proceeds from the drug deals?"
"No, it's not. You are wasting your time. I suggest you go back to San Jose and do some real investigative work."
"Mr. Meeks, do you have any idea who killed the firefighters?"
"They already have the killer. Let's just hope that her attorney James Colby can outperform the DA Sandra Morales. She is damn good. So we will see."
"It has been a pleasure meeting you."
I then left. It pissed me off that Meeks wouldn't tell me anything. But why should he? He was a former criminal defense attorney and he would be a fool to admit to another money laundering charge. That could tack on another ten years to his prison sentence unless somehow, the U.S. Attorney's office would grant him immunity. But Meeks wasn't a narc. So I doubted he would cut a deal.
And maybe, he was right. Why would Grady kill off the Chief, Ralph, and Dan? He had no motive. So that only left Kristal and Chuck.
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16
Chapter
New Chapter
When I got to my office on Tuesday morning, there was a message from Kristal's mother.
She said, "This is Betty Lawson. I heard my baby is being held for killing her husband and some other folks. She didn't do it. I need to see you as soon as possible. You probably know that I am in the mental hospital. Don't let that scare you. I won't hurt you or nothing. Just please come see me, because I have some information for you."
What assistance could a mentally ill woman give me? But then again, she didn't ramble on. Why didn't she leave the information on the answering machine? She probably thought the phone was tapped. Which is any other circumstance would mean that she was paranoid; but in this case, it was justified.
I was tempted to call her and tell her that I couldn't see her. But hell, I was at a dead end. Even a crazy lead was better than no lead.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I was at the psych ward. I approached the nurse at the front desk and she told me that Kristal's mother was in room 133. She pressed the button to let me into the psych ward. It reeked of urine and I was beginning to feel nauseous. I had never been in a psych ward and I didn't like being there.
As I was walking toward Kristal's mother's room, I saw somebody who I thought looked familiar. He had his head facing the wall, so I couldn't see his face. His hair was in wild dreadlocks that were totally out of control. He was dressed in loose fitting drawstring pants and a pullover shirt.
He turned his face from the wall and looked me right in the eyes. My God, it was Eric. Shit, what the hell was he doing here?
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I wanted to run away. My head started throbbing and all I could think about was throwing up. Eric needed a bath and his eyes were red and swollen.
"Do you remember me?" he asked.
Shit, did I remember him? How could I forget him? He was the first man that I had made love to and the first man who I had fallen in love with.
"Yes, I remember you Eric."
"Do you remember what you did to me?"
"What I did to you?"
"You know what you did. You wouldn't give me the money for my rent."
"Look, Eric I wasn't responsible for you."
"You weren't responsible for me. You are just like my mother; she wouldn't help me either. Nobody would help me. All of you are evil and you are going to pay for your sins."
"Eric, I am sorry about the past."
"You are a sinner and the devil has taken over your soul. Because of your sins, you must beg for forgiveness. I am the angel of mercy."
Eric had totally lost it and he was scaring the hell out of me.
"Eric, I really have to go. I am here to see somebody else."
"You are not here to see me? I am the angel of mercy. I am the only one who can save you."
"Eric, I have to go now."
He screamed, "You evil woman. You made me homeless. You destroyed me. And you must pay for your sins. Ask for forgiveness now."
"Eric, I have to go."
Eric turned to me and stood right in front of me and waved his hand in front of my face. He shouted, "I am the angel of mercy. You are a sinner. You must ask for forgiveness now. If you don't, your soul will be forever damned!"
"Eric, I have work to do. Ple
ase move."
"I will not move. Not until you ask for forgiveness."
I shouted, "Someone help me!"
Within a few seconds, three orderlies grabbed Eric and escorted him away.
Eric screamed, "You are the devil incarnate and you are condemned to hell forever."
I felt like his nasty scent was smothering me. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to crawl in the corner with a bottle of whiskey. It would save me 126
from this craziness. I needed a drink now. And it was nowhere to be found. Goddamn it, this was a totally messed up situation.
Because I didn't have a drink, I needed to get out of here now. I definitely could not handle seeing Kristal's mother. Seeing one certified psycho was all that I could handle. I then turned to walk toward the entrance.
A woman placed her hand on me and said, "You must be Jasmine. I knew that you would come."
I turned around and looked at the woman. She was a middle-aged and about sixty pounds overweight. Her hair was long and completely gray.
Her eyes were lifeless and her skin was ashy. At one time, she might have been pretty and maybe even beautiful, but years of being institu-tionalized had taken a toll on her looks and body.
"I know that he scared you. But don't mind him. He thinks he is the angel of mercy and he does that to everyone."
"Do you mind if I ask what you are in here for?"
"I'm schizophrenic. Sometimes, I have these spells where I hear and see things."
"Can't that be controlled by medication?"
"It can be. But I sometimes I forget to take my medication. And I really can't cope with living out there. I have been here for a number of years, so I have gotten used to it. Why don't you come in my room so we can talk."
She led me to her room. On the wall, there were childhood pictures of an overweight Kristal. There was Kristal's college graduation picture where she had slimmed down and newspaper articles about Kristal's accomplishments.
She said, "Kristal is a good girl. She has done a lot when you think about what she has gone through. You know that her daddy is in prison for murder."
I nodded.
She continued, "And I am in the psych ward. A lot people would have turned to drugs or given up on life. But not my Kristal, she has a fighting spirit. So there's no way that my daughter would have killed anyone."