No One Is Innocent

by Gayle Tiller

  "No, I ain't going to agree to that. I don't want to hurt my grandson."

  "Your grandson may have hurt a lot of people. He could be dealing drugs."

  "My grandson ain't no drug dealer. He got a lot of problems, but he ain't no colored man. He is too good for that."

  "Mr. Grady, what do you know about your grandson?"

  "He's a firefighter up in San Jose and he married this real pretty schoolteacher. He and his wife came by a couple years ago. Yeah, his wife is a real looker."

  "Mr. Grady, do you know your grandson is a multimillionaire?"

  "My grandson ain't rich. I don't know who lied to you. And if he is, I know he earned it. He didn't get it from no drug dealing."

  I pulled out the court papers and showed them to him.

  I took a deep breath and said, "According to these papers, your grandson inherited fifteen million dollars from you when you supposedly died in 1983. Everything in this file is fake. You can read the papers for yourself."

  "Miss, I didn't go past the second grade in school so my readin' is not too good. I don't care what these papers say, my grandson is no law breaker."

  The old man paused for a few seconds and then continued. "He is just too friendly with colored folks. Mixing with them just ain't natural.

  White folks and colored folks just weren't made for one another. Where I come from in South Carolina, colored folks used to know their place. It just ain't like the old days no more."

  This old man's racism was beginning to get on my nerves. And he just lied to me. He damn well knew about Melvin and he was covering up for him. There was no reason why the old man should lie when he could die at any minute.

  I handed him my card and said, "Mr. Grady, if you change your mind about making a statement, please call me."

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  He looked me directly in the eyes and said, "I ain't never called a colored gal and ain't gonna start now. So you can keep your damn card."

  Damn, this old man had an attitude. I said, "Thank you for your time."

  "Girlie, you done caused a lot of trouble now. You people always do.

  Now leave me be."

  I wanted to yell, "go to hell." But what was the point? Instead, I rolled my eyes at him and left.

  At least this old man had confirmed what I needed to know. And hell, once I exposed that he was alive, Melvin Grady was history. He probably would be in prison for the rest of his life.

  I couldn't wait until I got home to celebrate. Everything was finally coming together.

  The old days I would have partied with whiskey. But I am over it. I don't need a drink anymore.

  Everything is going to work out. And drinking is not a part of my life anymore. No, I am going to make it.

  * * *

  It was a little past 11:00 at night when I got home. I turned on the news. Anchorman Bryce Rushton said, "We have just gotten a late breaking report from the San Jose Fire Department tonight. At 8:15, Fire Chief Melvin Grady was hit and killed by a train in downtown San Jose. Apparently, the train tracks' lights signals were malfunctioning. The Chief's truck was slashed in two by the train."

  Shit, someone found that I had gone to see his grandfather and killed him. Someone was bugging me again and taping my every move. This shit was getting too damn eerie. At this point, I was afraid to interview anyone else, because they would probably kill that person too.

  I hoped that the old man was still alive, because he was proof that the probate had been fabricated. And even if he weren't, his death certificate would show that he died today and not twenty years ago.

  But who was behind Melvin Grady's killing? Was it the same person who had killed the firefighters and Loretta's father?

  Or was it possible that the death of Loretta's father was really a suicide and Melvin Grady's death was an accident? No, that explanation was too neat and easy. It didn't make sense.

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  Someone had purposely killed Melvin Grady and there was no way that anyone could link it to Kristal. That was impossible.

  Nor could anyone link Loretta's father's death to her.

  I knew now that Kristal had to be innocent and whoever was behind these killings was someone who was out of control and had to be stopped.

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  20

  Chapter

  New Chapter

  It was 10:00 in the morning. I knocked on Raul's door. No one answered.

  His car was outside, so I figured that he was probably home. I continued to knock, but there was no answer.

  Shit, I needed to see him now. Somebody was tapping me and I needed to find out who it was.

  I continued to knock hard. Finally, an old Latino woman in her eighties answered the door. Her hair was completely white and her face was etched with hundreds of tiny wrinkles. She wore a housedress that was a size too small for her.

  I said, "Hi, my name is Jasmine Myers and I am a private investigator.

  I am looking for Raul Vasquez."

  "You have to speak louder, because I am hard of hearing."

  I shouted, "I want to see Raul Vasquez."

  "Oh, Raul. He is my nephew. He's away on vacation. My daughter and I are watching the house."

  "When will he be back?"

  "Lady, he won't be back for another five weeks."

  There was no way that I could wait that long.

  "Is there any way that I could get in touch with him before then?"

  "No, you'll just have to wait."

  "Do you have the phone number where he is staying?"

  "The phone number? Lady, they don't have phones there. He went to Kenya and he's staying with some farmers."

  "Why did he go there?"

  "Lady, you are asking too many questions. But I will tell him that you came by."

  "Thank you for your time."

  I then left. Damn, Raul was 9,000 miles away in Africa. He was the only person that I trusted to help me with tracking down the people who 149

  were tapping me. Without him, I would just have to more careful and hope they didn't find anything else out.

  * * *

  I hadn't seen James since our date. He hugged me like an old friend and took me into his office. James smiled at me and said, "How are you feeling?"

  I said, "I am doing okay."

  "What's up?"

  "James, did you know that Melvin Grady was a millionaire?"

  "Yeah, I've heard the story how he inherited all this money from his grandfather."

  "James, he didn't inherit it. It was drug money."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Because I saw his grandfather yesterday."

  "You what?"

  "The man is alive and well in a nursing home in Orange County."

  "I'll be damned."

  "And the eerie thing is that after I saw him, Melvin was killed."

  "You're saying it was not an accident?"

  "No, I believe he was murdered by the same person who killed the others."

  "Okay, what is the connection between Richard Carpenter, Ralph Woods, and Dan Fulton?"

  "You know that guy Philip Meeks, who hung himself in federal prison, I think he was murdered too. Meeks was Grady's lawyer in probating his grandfather's estate. Meeks was in prison for money laundering and I believe that he and Grady made up a phony death certificate, bank state-ments and used the probate as a way to launder the money that Grady was getting from drug dealing."

  "Jasmine, do you have any proof that Grady sold drugs?"

  "I talked to a few people who knew about Grady. And why would he fabricate his grandfather's death? It had to be because of drug dealing."

  "Jasmine, why after twenty years would someone start killing off these people?"

  "I don't know."

  "Okay. Did you get a statement from his grandfather?"

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  "No, the old man is racist as hell. He wouldn't let me tape record him or anything. But I don't think we need anything, because all we have to show is that the pr
obate was based on false information."

  "Jasmine, I hear what you're saying. But even if the probate was fabricated and Phillip Meeks and Melvin Grady laundered drug money, that doesn't connect them to the killers of the others. No, I think these are two separate cases."

  "James, I think you are wrong. It fits the pattern. Every time that I tried to talk to someone who was a witness, they were killed off."

  "But Jasmine, not all of your witnesses were killed."

  "Okay, only the credible ones. The bottom line is that the killer is still out there."

  "But Jasmine, how could a train be timed to kill Melvin Grady at that exact moment? I think it was a sheer coincidence."

  "And what about Phillip Meeks' suicide? Is it just a coincidence that two days after that I see him, he kills himself? Come on. He left no note.

  Most people would leave a note. Someone killed him."

  "Jasmine, I don't think so. I think their deaths are red herrings and that's it. Nothing more to it."

  "Based on that thinking, everything was an accident."

  "That's possible, but unlikely. No, somebody framed Kristal for those deaths. But with Meeks and Grady, there is no motive."

  James' arrogant attitude was getting my nerves. I said in an abrasive voice, "James, I think you are wrong."

  "Jasmine, if you do, you need to find something that links them together."

  "Tell me something that I don't know."

  James looked me directly in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry for being huffy with you. But I am under a lot of pressure. If we don't find something soon, I am going to lose this case."

  "Apology accepted."

  "Jasmine, how about if I take you out to dinner as my apology?"

  God, the man still wanted to see me. I didn't want to lead him on, so I said, "My schedule is real hectic these days."

  "How about in a couple weeks?"

  Damn, he was persistent, but there was no way that I could have a relationship with him. I said, "James, I want to keep our relationship on a professional basis."

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  He said, "I understand." James looked at me with the eyes of an eight year old boy who had been told that he hadn't made the Little League team.

  I wished he hadn't given me that look. I wanted to hold him, let him know that everything would be all right. But I knew that it wouldn't and that the gesture would only hurt him more.

  I swallowed hard and said, "James, I have to get going. But I will be in touch."

  I let myself out of his office because I could not bear looking at him in his sad dejected state.

  * * *

  It took me thirty minutes to drive to the Gradys' home. Their home was off a long winding road in Los Altos Hills. There were no cars in the driveway. I knocked on the door. To my surprise, Rebecca answered the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was thrown on the top of her head in a ponytail. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a pair of old gray sweats. She led me inside the house, which was immaculate. She sat me down in the living room.

  I said, "I am sorry about your husband."

  She said, "Thank you for your condolences. The funeral is on Saturday.

  I just can't believe he's gone."

  "I know that this isn't good time for you. But I need to ask you a few personal questions."

  "Jasmine, I answered all of your questions the last time."

  "Last time I had different questions and your husband was alive."

  "Okay. What do you want to know?"

  "Was Melvin a drug dealer?"

  "A what?"

  "Was your husband a drug dealer?"

  "What are you talking about? My husband was an honest man."

  "Rebecca, how did your husband acquire this home?"

  "What you mean by that?"

  "Rebecca, stop playing games. There is no way on your husband's salary, he could afford to buy a two million dollar house."

  "My husband is a very wealthy man. He inherited millions of dollars years ago."

  "Who did he inherit this money from?"

  "His grandfather."

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  "What was his grandfather's name?"

  "Russell Grady. Why are you asking all of these questions? Melvin's grandfather has been dead for over twenty years."

  "Rebecca, you know that he is not dead."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Isn't it true that your husband's grandfather lives in a nursing home in Huntington Beach?"

  "Jasmine, you must have him confused with someone else."

  "No, I don't. I just saw Melvin's grandfather yesterday and he was alive and well. And he never had a dime to his name. He told me that he saw you and Melvin a couple years ago when you visited the nursing home."

  "I don't know what you are talking about. Melvin's grandfather is dead."

  "No, he is not. You know that. And you know that your husband obtained his wealth from drug dealing. The thing that bothers me is that the minute that I confirmed that Melvin's grandfather was alive, Melvin was killed. I think he was murdered."

  "My husband is not a drug dealer and he was not murdered. Everybody loved him. He was a kind, loving man."

  "Rebecca, why would you marry a man almost twice your age?"

  "Because I loved him."

  "You married Melvin to help him cover up his drug dealing and he paid your father off. Didn't he?"

  "You are a sick woman. I loved my husband. He was a good man just like my father."

  "If you call being a racist a good man."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Didn't your father forbid you from marrying a Latino cop?"

  "Hell no. Who told you that bullshit?"

  "His sister Cindy Rodriguez."

  "Cindy is so full of shit. I left Jerry and it wasn't because of my father."

  "Why did you leave him?"

  "Look I don't want to talk about it."

  "Why did you leave him?"

  "Because he abused me."

  "How? Verbally?"

  "No, it was more than that. Before I met Melvin, I used to pick the wrong men. Men who would physically abuse me and hurt me. Men 153

  who didn't give a damn about me, but just wanted to be seen with me, because of my looks. Jerry was one of them."

  "So Jerry physically abused you."

  "Yes."

  "Why would Cindy lie about you and Jerry's relationship?"

  "Look, I don't know what her problem is. Hell, she looks like the Pillsbury Doughboy's sister. She probably was jealous."

  "Cindy has never lied to me before."

  "She is this time. I filed a restraining order against her brother. Check the records."

  So Cindy had lied to me about Jerry. But there is no way that she lied about Melvin's drug dealing. Josie and Keith's grandmother had both confirmed that story. And Melvin's grandfather was alive and penniless.

  I exhaled deeply and said, "I am sorry about Jerry. But like I said before, Melvin's grandfather is alive."

  "If you say so."

  "Rebecca, if I were you, I wouldn't venture too far away."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Rebecca, where were you on the night your husband was killed?"

  "I just told you that for years I was the victim of domestic violence with other men. There is no way that I would ever kill my husband. He was my life. He was the only man who treated me right. The only one."

  "You would do anything to protect your husband, wouldn't you?"

  "Yes, I would. That's how much I love him."

  "When you found out that Ralph Woods' investigation would expose your husband's drug dealing, you killed him."

  "That is a goddamn lie!"

  "You killed the firefighters, because you were afraid that your husband's drug dealing would come out."

  "That is bullshit. I never killed anybody."

  "You killed your husband, because you didn't want to give up your rich and famous lifestyle."

  "I
loved my husband. I would have been with him even if he didn't have a cent to his name and we were living in a shack. That's how much I loved him."

  "You better get yourself ready for living in a shack. Because when your husband's drug dealing past surfaces, all of this is gone."

  "Get out of my house now!"

  "Don't venture too far from your house."

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  Rebecca screamed, "If you don't leave now, I'm fucking calling the police!"

  I left. I didn't want to deal with any bullshit. Rebecca had to be in on it and once I got the declaration from Melvin's grandfather, she would be fitted for an orange jumpsuit courtesy of Elmwood Jail.

  I needed to get the old man to cooperate. Fuck the old man's coopera-tion. I would just wear a wire on me. It might not be the right thing to do, but it was the only way that I would get his statement.

  * * *

  My body was exhausted. I was no mood to deal with Melvin Grady's grandfather's racism, but I needed to see him now. When I went into the nursing home, the three women whom I had seen the day before were gone. The new shift nurses looked like they were models straight out of a magazine. Two were blond and looked like stereotypical beach bunnies. The other was a redhead with green eyes.

  I said, "I'd like to see Russell Grady."

  The redhead responded, "He's in his room eating his lunch."

  When I entered Grady's room, he was slurping on what appeared to be a bowl of soup.

  He gave me a sneering look. "Why are you back?"

  I inhaled and clutched the wire taped to my chest and said, "Mr. Russell Grady, I have a few questions that I need to ask you."

  "Why are you touching your chest? You have asthma or somethin'?"

  "No, sir. I am just feeling a little under the weather."

  "Girlie, don't come near me. I don't want to catch nuthin', especially from no colored gal."

  God, this man's racism was out of control. But I wasn't going to let it affect me. Instead, I said grimly, "Did you hear about your grandson Melvin Grady?"

  "What about him?"

  "Sir, I have some bad news."

  "What happened to my grandson?"

  "Yesterday, he was killed in a train accident. Apparently, the train signals where he was stopped weren't working properly and they failed to come on when the train was coming. Melvin didn't see the train and he and his car was destroyed."