Criminal Negligence

by Danielle L Davis

  The group of drug addicts eyeballed me with narrowed eyes.

  I was sure some, if not all of them had plenty of experience with law enforcement. People with substance abuse issues usually did. The very careful, lucky, or wealthy ones escaped, at least for a while. Eventually, it caught up to them all, no matter their socioeconomic status.

  I hoped Jennifer wouldn’t run because I sure didn’t feel like chasing her—my elbow still throbbed, and my feet ached. All I wanted to know is if she recognized the photo of our Jane Doe from the pool. I stepped in front of her. A sour odor wafted from her body and her greasy hair hung in limp strings.

  She backed away. “What do you want?” She practically spat out the words. Attitude was okay. I had plenty of my own.

  “Jennifer Moore?” I drew myself up, nice and tall. According to her father, she was about an inch shorter than I was, which looked about right, if she ever stopped slouching.

  “Who wants to know?” She glanced at her friends and smirked.

  Everyone’s a comedienne these days.

  Comics needed an audience. Time to get rid of hers.

  I glanced at Theresa, nodded at the group of junkies, and gave her a photo of Jane. She guided the others several feet away, across the parking lot. Jennifer backed away and looked behind me and to each side of the lot. Was she ready to make a run for it?

  “I’m not in the mood to give chase. If you run, I’ll catch you.” I snapped my fingers. “Like that. Guaranteed.” Although I hadn’t been working out lately, I knew I could easily run her down. “I just have a few questions.”

  Jennifer’s shoulders slumped further. “All right,” she grunted, anger darkening her words.

  Such a shame I was keeping her from making a living panhandling.

  “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Detective Sydney Valentine of the San Sansolita Police Department.”

  “Cool name.”

  “Thanks.” I pointed to Theresa. “She’s Detective Sinclair.”

  She flicked her gaze in Theresa’s direction and turned back to me. “You know I’m Jennifer Moore. What do you want?” She folded her arms in front of herself and thrust out a bony hip. The girl needed a meal—and a bath. And a change of attitude.

  “Where do you live?” I got my notebook out.

  She shrugged. “Here and there. What’s it to you, anyway?” She scratched her arms and picked at a sore until it bled.

  Nice.

  “Where were you three days ago?”

  She scoffed. “How the hell do I know? I don’t know where I’m going to be from one minute to the next.”

  This confirmed her mom’s statement that she lived moment to moment.

  “Look. This will work out better for both of us if you lose the attitude.”

  She sighed. “Fine.”

  I expected her to pout next.

  “When was the last time you were at your parents’ house?”

  Another eye roll. “Which one?”

  “The one they’re selling. In San Sansolita.”

  “Been a while. Like, maybe six months.” She lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know.”

  I pulled out Jane Doe’s photo. “Do you know her?”

  She frowned and leaned in. “She looks … dead. Is she dead?”

  “Do you know her?” I moved the photo closer to her face.

  She took it from me. “Hard to tell ’cause she’s dead. Pretty banged up, too.”

  “Think hard. Have you ever seen her before? In your parents’ house? A family friend, maybe?”

  She shrugged. Shook her head. “Nah. Don’t recall ever seeing her before. Ever.” She handed me the photo then glanced at her friends. “Can I go now?”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Here and there. Like I told you. Everywhere.” She smirked.

  “There are places where you can get help. Get off the streets. Safe places.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. We done?”

  “Sure.” I waved Theresa over. That was a bust. I ambled back to our car and returned the photo to my pocket.

  Theresa joined me. “Get anything?”

  “No. She doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. Lives for the moment.” I watched two females from the group converge on a man exiting Denny’s. He hurried to his car with his head down, ignoring them. “Get anything from the friends?”

  She looked at the gang. “I showed them the picture, and they all said they had no idea who Jane Doe was. They didn’t seem to care, either.” Theresa headed to the driver’s side and climbed in.

  “Tough crowd,” I said.

  “Didn’t like them. Not a one.” She sniffed her arm. “Do I stink? I feel like I need a bath now.”

  I laughed. “Are you hungry?”

  “Absolutely not! I’ve lost my appetite. I want to go brush my teeth and get some hand sanitizer.”

  I nodded. “Let’s stop at Walgreens. It’s a block down.”

  “Well, all right.” She sniffed her other arm and frowned.

  I bought two packs of Trident spearmint gum from Walgreens and handed one to Theresa. “This will have to do for now.”

  She bought a hand sanitizer and slathered it on. We headed back to the station and I caught her staring at me when she stopped at a red light.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  “Want to talk about it?” She spoke like someone at a funeral home, making arrangements for a dearly departed loved one. Since it was dead, my relationship with Brad fit the criteria.

  “Actually, I don’t, if you don’t mind.” I gazed out the window. My phone buzzed, but I didn’t recognize the number on the display. “Hello?”

  “Sydney, it’s me. Brad.”

  I glanced at Theresa, who was watching me. I frowned and pointed to the steering wheel. “Drive.”

  “Excuse me?” Brad asked.

  “I’m in the car. I was talking to my nosy companion.”

  “Oh. How’s Bernie doing?”

  “Good guess, but my nosy companion isn’t Bernie this time. It’s Detective Theresa Sinclair.” I glanced at Theresa and grinned.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Tell her I said hello.”

  “Nosey companion, Brad says hello.”

  “Hi, Brad!” Theresa said, all cheerful. “Is he dumping you?” she whispered.

  I shrugged. “Brad, why did you call?”

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “That’s because I couldn’t get through. When I tried, a message said your phone was out of service.”

  “Yeah, right. My cell fell out of my pocket when I was cutting the grass, and I ran over it with the mower. I bought a new phone with a new carrier and had to change numbers. The deal was too good to ignore.”

  “Why did it take you so long to let me know?”

  He coughed. “This is embarrassing.”

  “Try me.”

  “Er, I couldn’t remember your number. That might come as a surprise to you because I’m awesome and all that.”

  “And don’t forget modest,” I said, smiling.

  He chuckled and cleared his throat again. “I’m just not good with remembering phone numbers. I always use my contacts or recent calls list when I call you.”

  “How did you manage to call me now?” This was going to be good. I couldn’t wait. What kind of bull was he trying to feed me?

  “I went back to the e-mail you sent after we met on the dating site. You gave me your cell phone number. Remember?”

  “You kept it?” My eyes started to tear up. How sweet was that? I sensed Theresa gazing at me, so I turned to the window.

  “I keep all of your e-mails. Don’t you keep mine?”

  Uh, no. Nope.

  “I kept your Tupperware.”

  I’m not good at being sentimental.

  Brad laughed. “All right. When do I get it back? You owe me a cooked dinner, by the way. Which reminds me. What happened to your apartment building? I stopped by and
it looked like there was a fire.”

  He stopped by my building? How sweet. Is he a keeper?

  “That’s one of the things I was trying to call you about. There was a fire. Arson, in fact.”

  “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

  I gave him a quick rundown.

  “Are you kidding me? Someone torched your apartment? With you in it?”

  I would’ve bet my savings account he was squeezing the life out of his new phone and turning all shades of red.

  “Well, not exactly.” I told him about the empty apartment.

  Theresa pulled into the IHOP parking lot a few blocks from the station. I glanced at her, and she shrugged. Rubbing her stomach, she mouthed, “I’m starving now.” I nodded. She cut the engine and headed toward the restaurant entrance.

  “Maybe it was accidental,” Brad said.

  “The Fire Chief confirmed it was arson,” I said, stepping out of the car. “I have to get going. Can we talk or get together later?”

  “Sure. I’d like to see you this weekend, Sydney.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk later.” We disconnected, and I headed toward the IHOP entrance.

  As I pushed through the door, my phone’s text message notification buzzed. I read Bernie’s text. He’d decided to take the day off to stay with Khrystal. I responded with, “Ok. Hope she feels better soon.”

  I joined Theresa and gave her the scoop on Brad while we enjoyed our lunch. She grinned the entire time, the sap.

  After we returned to the station and had finished writing up our reports on the day’s events, I called Bernie and arranged to pop in on my way home. I wanted to see Khrystal and question Bernie about buying a condo. He made his purchase several years ago and he’d had plenty of time to have regrets, or not. I’d never heard him complain, however.

  Traffic congestion held me up and by the time I reached Bernie’s condo, Khrystal had turned in. She’d had another rough night, but she didn’t need to go to the hospital. Bernie said she was exhausted. His skin sagged and had a grayish tone to it. Stubble covered his usually clean-shaven face. I couldn’t imagine what Khrystal must have looked like.

  While Bernie checked on Khrystal, I sat on the sofa and looked around the living room through house-hunter’s eyes. I hadn’t been in his place for a couple of months. He’d added a recliner and replaced his flat screen television with a larger model.

  “Well, she’s out like a light,” Bernie whispered, almost sighing. “How’s the case going?” He plopped on the opposite end of the sofa, grabbed a pillow, and squeezed it.

  “I found Jennifer Moore. She’s got an attitude and shows all of the signs of being a chronic junkie.”

  “Did she say where she’s been and where she lives?” Bernie’s eyes were about to close, so I intended to make it quick and gave him a short version of the interview.

  “She was evasive, but I didn’t sense anything going on there.”

  “Did she know Jane Doe?”

  Bernie yawned, and I joined him. Funny how often that happened.

  “Nope. She didn’t remember ever having met her. Theresa showed her friends the photo and asked them if they knew her. Negative.”

  “Theresa? Trying to replace me again?” he said, smiling weakly.

  “I never tried to replace you. You were in the hospital, out cold. What was I supposed to do? We had a case to solve.”

  “Yeah. Just teasing you. Pull your horns in. You two work well together, huh?”

  “We’re okay. She’s not you, though. But you do have one thing in common.”

  “This ought to be good.” He smirked. “What’s that?”

  “You’re both nosy. And neither of you watch the road when you’re driving because you’re so busy rubbernecking into my business.”

  That got a laugh out of him, then he yawned again. That was my cue to leave. My condo questions could wait.

  “I’m going to get going. Tell Khrystal I stopped by and I’m glad she’s feeling better. I’ll talk to her later.” I headed toward the door.

  “Hey, I almost forgot. How’s your apartment?” Bernie trailed behind me, shuffling his feet.

  “They need to do renovations. No idea how long it’ll take. I’m at Mac’s for now.” I opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  “All right. Guess I’ll see you at work on Monday unless we catch a break in the case before then.” Bernie leaned on the door, stifling another yawn.

  “Bernie, get some rest, buddy. See you later.”

  I got in my car and headed to Mac’s place.

  12

  Saturday morning was a scorcher, but I took Josh to the park and we went on a long walk. Well, I jogged slowly, and he rode the bike on the sidewalk, mostly. I’d bought it for his last birthday and, once Mike removed the training wheels, Josh had become quite the daredevil. If I didn’t keep an eye on him, he tried to speed up and down the neighbors’ driveways and into the street.

  After our park excursion, I made him a lunch of PB&J, strawberries, and a glass of milk. I cleaned him up before putting him down for his nap and quietly tidied up his bedroom while he slept. Maybe I should have made him clean it up—I didn’t know. It was amazing how much mess one small child could make. Scratch that—one small child and a somewhat bigger child had made the mess.

  Before Mac and Mike left for Las Vegas, I asked whether they minded if Brad came over. They were both fine with it. Mac wanted to meet him, but since they were leaving earlier than planned, it didn’t happen. Brad had to finish staging a flip, and I was expecting him by mid-afternoon.

  After I washed the dishes and put away the games Josh and I had played in the living room, I settled in to look through more of Mac’s real estate magazines. I checked out a few builders’ websites and decided to start seriously looking for a house for myself, if I could find the time. In the process of searching for my own house, I could search for information on the case, too.

  I pondered where we stood on the four investigations. Theresa had been unsuccessful in locating the con man who rented the Moore house to Kelly Milton. No leads had turned up on the fire in my apartment building and we couldn’t identify any of the faces on the photos Bryant had taken of the crowd. John Doe was still unidentified. We had no identity for the young woman found in the hot tub.

  DMV records indicated the plates I’d given them from Frakes Realty didn’t belong to Sylvia or her husband, Vincent. The cars seemed to belong to people taking advantage of the free parking.

  Cheapskates.

  No one had talked to Vincent Frakes yet because of his business trip, and it was high time we paid a visit to the Frakes’ home. I’d messed up and should’ve done it already. How could I have missed that? Too distracted by my relationship with Brad? Not good. We needed to have a talk about our situation, and I had to clear my head.

  Before Josh woke, I made a marinade, added three chicken breasts, and placed it all in the fridge. We could grill them later. Afterward, I soaked in the tub, keeping my injured elbow on the rim.

  Soggy scabs are disgusting.

  I had to admit, the soak felt good after a day playing in the hot sun. Mac told me Josh usually slept for two or three hours in the afternoon. Brad called to tell me he’d be over at four o’clock. Plenty of time.

  After my bath, I dressed in denim shorts and a black-and-white T-shirt with black sandals. I left my hair loose and curly and pulled it off my face with a black headband.

  With a little while before Brad’s arrival, I spent the time making a green salad with lots of vegetables and three kinds of greens. Brad loved salads, which was a plus in my opinion. I also made a fruit salad. Josh would like that, and it would be refreshing since the temperature was still blazing outside. The weather was perfect for a barbecue and the pool. Although I’d never learned how to swim, I didn’t mind floating around on a raft or rubber chair in the shallow end. I wouldn’t be doing that today—I hadn’t brought a bathing suit from my apartment, and Mac’s would be too l
arge because she was curvier. A sagging bathing suit was not attractive. I’d told Brad he could bring one if he wanted, which would leave me free to work the barbeque. He’d mentioned that he had worked as a lifeguard while in high school and was still an excellent swimmer. Good to know. Perhaps he’d make a decent swim coach.

  I went to check on Josh. “Josh. Time to get up.” I nudged him again.

  He pushed my hand away and whined.

  “Josh, wake up.” I put my hands under his shoulders and legs, trying to move him. “Oh. Are you wet?” I’d forgotten to make sure he went to the bathroom before his nap and headed to his dresser for new clothes.

  “Crap.”

  “Aunt Syd? You said a potty word.”

  I spun around.

  Now he wakes!

  Josh rubbed his eyes and yawned. “You said a potty word, Aunt Syd.”

  I sighed and smiled. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I won’t tell.” He touched his pants. “I’m wet.” His chin trembled, and his eyes watered.

  I rushed to the bed and sat beside him. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes.”

  His bottom lip poked out. Tears flowed from his blue eyes and down his flushed face.

  “Hey, how would you like to go for a swim?”

  That raised a smile. His eyes brightened, and he swiped at his tears. “I can?”

  “Sure.” I found his Spider-Man swim trunks. “Come on. Let’s get you changed.”

  We got him cleaned up and into his trunks, ready to go. I pulled a couple of towels from the shelf, then we headed down the hall.

  Sunscreen! I hadn’t put any on him, and I’d forgotten to apply it before we’d left for the park that morning.

  Darn it.

  “Wait for me, Josh. Don’t go out yet.” I hurried back into the bathroom and found the kiddie sunscreen on the upper shelf of a chrome unit. I grabbed it and hurried down the hall to the living room.