by Kira Reese
“Do you mean crooked lawyers?”
Ben laughed out loud. “I mean somehow he manages to cover his tracks well. He deals drugs, but does not use them. He is never seen conducting business, but when someone is brought in on other charges his name comes up.”
Ben went on to explain that those arrested at times tell them Sleek was the perpetrator in the offense and not them. There was never proof, so the arrestee usually took the hit. I let the detective know about seeing the upscale young women in the area. The detective jerked to attention.
“Tracy Linden was one of the two. She came into my office the other day and asked me to take the case of Nancy Perkins. I declined. I felt something was amiss with her.” Ben’s eyes rested on me like adhesive sticking to a hard object. “I think Tracy and Nancy were very good friends and for some reason got their drugs of choice in the seedy area of the lower east side,” I continued. “The girl with her looked younger, possibly in high school. Her eyes darted everywhere when she got into the car with Tracy. She appeared to be in new territory.”
I expounded further and told Ben this younger girl was obviously not used to the environment Tracy had taken her into.
“This is interesting and helpful, Candy,” said Ben. “This Tracy and her friend could very well have information regarding the death of the second victim.”
He jotted down Tracy’s name and we chatted a few minutes longer. When I stood to leave my eyes went to the photograph on his credenza.
“How old are your boys now?” I asked him.
“They are two and eight,” he said. A father’s pride lit his face. His wife sat between the two boys and her delicate face held the same pride.
I told him he had the right to be proud of his family. Then we promised to keep each other updated on anything new about the cases. I glanced at my watch. It was past closing time at my office. I had a lot to think about. For example, there were three men to consider: Sleek Johnson, Oliver Mansfield, and Otis Jackson. The latter just popped into my head. I realized he was someone whose background I should delve into a little deeper. He had easy access to the alley. He may work in broad daylight, but what did he do in the darkness of the night?
It was almost imperative that if it were Oliver, he committed crimes in darkness. His shocking red hair was an attribute hard to miss in daylight. Sleek apparently was sleek when performing his activities.
My thoughts then turned to Nick. The day of his barbeque competition neared. His drive to win took away our time together sometimes. I was all right with that, though eating so much barbequed food tended to get a little old. I tried to eat it night after night with a smile on my face during his test time. I don’t believe he noticed one way or another. It became an obsession with him. He tested and retested his recipe. I hoped that this year the trophy would be his. I thought he was the best based on how many delectable dishes I sampled. I was sure he had the ingredients down pat this time. If not, I suffered longer than desired.
I pulled into the driveway.
“Guess what,” said Nick as he swept me into his arms as soon as I stepped inside the house. “No barbeque tonight.”
“I suspect you don’t mean that,” I said.
“I do mean it, Miss Private Investigator. Take a look on the bistro table.”
I went out to the patio. There were no bits of crimson sauces spread over samples of meat, no odor of barbeque pottage anywhere, and even the grill was not fired up. Instead the table was arrayed with smoked salmon salad and fruit kabobs. A bottle of champagne was nestled in a bucket of ice.
“Are we celebrating something?” I asked. My grin took up the entire area of my face.
“We are celebrating the completed final testing being over and done with. You will notice that there are no visible signs of my accomplishment. It is a champagne night.”
“That leaves nothing for your win night,” I said.
“Saturday night, we’ll go out on the town to celebrate my winning recipe. We may drink two bottles of the stuff that night.”
I liked his confidence and let him know that. If he did lose again, I knew Nick well enough to know he wouldn’t sink too far into despondency. In three days, the big competition would begin. I crossed my fingers for his good luck. We talked about where his trophy would go. He wanted it displayed where anyone walking into our house would see it before anything else. I gave him that.
No real estate sales or crime solving details were discussed between us this night. Nick was on cloud nine anticipating the contest ahead of him. Tonight, nothing could mar his mood. We remained on the patio until the sun sank once again. Once things were washed and back in place, we opted for the bedroom rather than the living room.
The next morning when Cal Tjader’s “Morning” woke me up, I rolled over in bed and reached for Nick. His side of the bed was empty. The aroma of coffee wafted in and I decided to get up rather than listen to the entire song. I had a full day ahead of me. Nick still had the night-before light in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was from our night together in bed or his anticipation of a barbeque win. Both of us were in a hurry, so we ate a quick breakfast of cinnamon rolls and coffee, then we kissed good-bye. I felt the lingering taste of his lips on mine and got into my car with a smile on my face.
I dialed Natalie’s phone. She was just leaving for work.
“Before you get started on your case, I want to go over something with you,” I said. “I’ll probably get there about the same time as you.”
The excitement in her voice made my day even better. Natalie delved into anything I handed her with expertise and enthusiasm. I had a new project for her and hoped she made good progress on the two cases she was currently working on.
As soon as I parked, Natalie pulled alongside me in her space. I saw her latest romance novel on the passenger seat of her car. She must have decided there would be no time for reading and pushed it aside to pick up her purse. We greeted one another and she made coffee. I put the teakettle on low for Evelyn’s first cup of tea when she arrived. Then we went into my office. I told Natalie about Tracy Linden, including seeing her down on the lower east side. Natalie took in everything I said. I knew she was putting things in order in her brain. She was detailed that way.
“I want you to look into Tracy Linden’s background,” I said. I explained who she was and my reasons.
“Do you think she is also connected somehow with Janet Dubois?” asked Natalie.
“I have not ruled out connections between any of the three victims, even though they were all from different backgrounds. It could be that the only thing in common is the way they were killed and the way the murderer left their bodies.”
Natalie paused and then said, “They could be connected in other ways, too.” Her voice increased with conviction. “You know, sometimes we think a certain person could never do a certain thing but they surprise us. Everyone is telling you Janet Dubois was not into drugs and the grocer told you Aniyah Oalmann was like a saint. They could all be wrong.”
We both sat there lost in our own thoughts. Natalie was right in her opinion. I wanted to know more about Janet Dubois. Her brother was still in town. Who would know more than a blood relative? I had to remember his statements about having no knowledge of her life. If they kept in contact with each other, surely they discussed more than horseback riding.
“I’m going to contact Jonathan Dubois again,” I said. “He has to know more about his sister than he is letting on. Besides, I don’t want him heading back to Alaska until I drill him.”
Natalie laughed. “You will be merciless for sure.”
Chapter 12
The Victim’s Brother
Jonathan Dubois sat with the photograph album open in front of him. He had not closed it since the private investigator last visited him in his sister’s apartment. More than once he mulled over in his mind how much to tell Candace McCauley. He toyed with the idea of going after the person he was sure committed the murder by himself. Janet did not dese
rve any of it. Tears filled his eyes when he thought about how she must have suffered while taking her last breaths. Hiring Miss McCauley was something he hoped would bring the perpetrator to justice without involving him personally.
“Of course, I didn’t give the investigator much to go on,” he said aloud.
Still, if he divulged more information, the spoken words would tarnish his sister more. He managed to push aside the torments of her teen years living with their aunt and uncle. Twice they had run away together only to be found and returned to the abusive home. He left the house as soon as he turned eighteen, but stuck around close by until Janet was old enough to be considered an adult. He found work at a nearby restaurant where he bussed tables and folded paper napkins around silverware. The dishwasher, Jerome Oalmann befriended him. Jon slept on the couch in Jerome’s broken-down, three-room apartment.
Jonathan arranged to meet his sister several times a week at a convenience store on her way home from school. Things did not change for her. He encouraged her as much as he could, but it was not enough. Anger built inside him and he vowed to one day get even with their uncle who continued to victimize Janet. She did not want to report the sexual abuse, because, as she told her brother, it would mean going into a foster home. She repeated it could mean they would never see one another again. She endured the abuse until the day of her eighteenth birthday. There was a month left before she would graduate from high school. Jerome told Jon she could live in the apartment, too. He had met a girl he planned to marry, he told Jon.
By the time things were arranged, Jon took over the rent and Jerome married his girlfriend, Aniyah. They moved to the lower east side of New York to be closer to her family. Janet landed a job working part-time as a server in the diner Jon worked in. There she met the second man who almost destroyed her life. Janet dated him until a year later when she discovered she was pregnant with his child. When the news was given to the prospective father, he disappeared like a sudden flash of lightening. A few weeks later, Jon was at Janet’s bedside in the hospital where she recovered from a miscarriage. He stuck by her side while she recouped physically and mentally from her ordeal. Once she was on her feet again, he searched for better job opportunities.
Jonathan read an ad from Alaska. Fishermen were needed on boats and the pay was more than he ever expected to receive. His sister assured him she was fine, and together they decided this was the best move for Jon.
“I want Jerome to know what I’m doing,” said Jonathan. “He may want to come with me and earn money like this.”
“Remember that he is married,” said Janet. “He has responsibilities at home now.”
Her brother agreed she was right. Janet knew he and Jerome were good friends, so she suggested they have dinner with them. Neither had met Jerome’s wife. A few nights later, they arrived on the lower east side at Jerome and Aniyah’s modest home. Aniyah’s personality was such that Janet immediately was drawn to her. They ate at a local restaurant where Jerome told Jon thanks for the information, but he could not leave Aniyah.
After that night, Jon grew more excited about his new adventure. His decision to better his life was enough to make Janet decide to pursue her own dreams. She began work at Benny’s Café two days after her brother left for Alaska. In three months she had earned enough money to move to an apartment in a better neighborhood. It gave her the privacy she had yearned for. Everything that had transpired so far in her life she kept secret from everyone she met. Jon told her she should tell the police of their uncle’s sexual abuse. It was something she wanted to forget and so she declined. The slate was open for her to start a new life at her own pace and include her own personal desires of achievement.
Janet became friends with her coworker Sheila McIntyre. They were opposites in looks but their personalities clicked. They both enrolled in night classes at the local community college. On occasion they stopped for a drink or coffee in a local shop after classes. One of Janet’s instructors told of her love of horses. The teacher thought that since her class was there to learn everything they could about hospitality, it was appropriate to introduce her love of horses. Janet was enthralled with the idea of one day owning a bed and breakfast on a ranch with horses. It clinched her desire to learn to ride.
That was something she had never considered before. Benny gave her a raise at the café, and if she kept her modest apartment, she felt she could swing lessons. As it turned out, horseback lessons were more expensive than she thought, but the owner of Iron Cowgirl Stables took a liking to her right away and gave her a discount. For the first time in her life, Janet Dubois felt unimaginable freedom on the back of a horse. The wind whistling by as she rode seemed to take away all the horrific experiences of her childhood. Slowly, she managed to shelve those memories into the back of her mind.
Janet and Jon talked on the phone when he had access to his cell phone. This wasn’t often since it proved more difficult to get service when he was out on the water. During one call he asked his sister if she had heard anything from the Oalmanns. She stated she had not talked with either of them since he left for Alaska.
“I tried to call Jerome,” said Jon. “Aniyah told me he was out of town for a while. When I asked her if he had an out-of-town job, she hedged around.”
“I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure she meant he was gone somewhere for a short time,” said Janet.
After that call, Janet dismissed thoughts of the Oalmanns. She liked Aniyah, but with her busy life she did not contact her again. She was content and went after her goals with a vengeance. She vowed to not repeat the habits of her parents or her aunt and uncle. She left them to their own fates. Everyone chooses, she thought.
One morning, Janet awoke thinking about the advice Jon had given her about turning their uncle in for abusing her all those years. It dawned on her that she was probably not his only victim. Someone like that didn’t stop with one person. Her life was on track, and, rather than allow those awful feelings to remain without resolution, she made up her mind to follow her brother’s advice.
She shuddered every time she recalled the horrific childhood she endured, but her resolve was strong. She could no longer keep secrets to herself if she expected to move forward. Little did she know how her life would drastically swerve from away from the goals she set out to accomplish for her own life.
The day Aniyah Oalmann sent the first text message to Janet, both lives would drastically alter. Though reasons for the changes would be different, each would hold an unwelcomed common thread.
Chapter 13
Jerome Oalmann
The fact Jon Dubois did not keep in constant contact with me, as most clients were prone to do, was a surprise for me. I felt sure he knew more about his sister than he let on. If he wanted me to find her killer, he would have to spill more. I dialed his cell and he picked up right away.
“I would like for you to come into my office at your convenience,” I told him.
“Sure,” he said, “what’s a good time for you?”
I gave him a half hour. He accepted. When the tall figure came into my office, he appeared apprehensive. His eyes darted around a little and then focused on me.
“Do you have more information about my sister’s death?” he asked.
“That is what I want to ask you,” I said. “How much do you know that you have not revealed to me?”
Color rose slightly on the tanned face. He fumbled with his fingers that twined together.
“I don’t know a whole lot,” he said. “I know I have not been completely honest with you. I do know more about Janet’s personal life than I’ve let on.”
Jon began to tell me of his relationship with Jerome Oalmann. By the time he got to where Janet knew the third murder victim, I almost allowed my thoughts to take my attention away from what he said. I finally had a connection.
“How well do you know Jerome?” I asked.
“In the past, I felt I knew him as well as any friend. In recent months, I have not be
en able to contact him. His wife first told me he was out of town. When I asked if he had a job away from home she couldn’t give me a straight answer. Either he comes and goes in the home, or they are no longer together.”
“His wife was found dead in the same alley Janet was found,” I said. The shocked look on his face told me he must not be tuning in to local news. “Do you think Jerome would have anything to do with either murder?”
He leaned back in the chair. Moisture dotted his forehead. He took a deep breath while attempting to take in the bad news. Dark eyes searched for an answer. “I would never think Jerome would have anything to do with murder. He and Aniyah have two children. She works, or worked at a local cleaners shop. I know they had a hard time financially, but they seemed to manage.”
“Did Janet continue any sort of friendship with Aniyah?”
Jon told me of his conversation with his sister regarding the Oalmanns. “She didn’t seem all that interested in maintaining a close friendship. The Oalmanns live down on the lower east side. Because of the distance, it was inconvenient to foster friendship. Besides, my sister was into college and horses. Those interests took up most of her time, as well as work at Benny’s.”
“Other than the Oalmanns, who else may have come in contact with Janet?”
Again the man across from me shuffled around a bit. Silence hung in the air like wet curtains hanging from rods. I had patience. He finally met my eyes.
“She told me our uncle had recently come into the café where she worked. We both felt he came in by chance and had no idea she worked there.” His face drooped slightly. “It unnerved Janet. They exchanged glances, but she said they didn’t speak. Another waitress served him and he left shortly after.”
“Why didn’t they talk with each other?”
Jon told me of the bad relationship he and his sister put up with. He told me of the sexual abuse his uncle tormented Janet with. It was understandable why they had nothing to say between them.