Wall of Silence

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  Marcus’s office was different from the rest of the house. In fact, if I hadn’t known better, I would say someone else had decorated it. The furniture was extremely masculine: dark oaks and leather, with what I hoped were faux animal skins on the wall. His desk was huge and strewn with papers. So much for orderliness. I walked over to the blinds, taking a cursory look out the window before closing all of the slats with a sweep of my hand. I drew the heavy brown drapes together, then turned on a lamp and clicked off my penlight. I wished I could have convinced Riley to wait in the car.

  “How about you check those bookcases over there?” I told her. I didn’t expect her to find anything, but I wanted to give her something to do while I went through Marcus’s stuff.

  It was very uncharacteristic of Marcus to leave his office desk with papers on top when he left work for the day, and I couldn’t imagine him being any different at home. I glanced back at the bookcase that Riley was painstakingly checking for clues, and noted that not one book looked out of place.

  “Are those books in alphabetical order?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I could tell she was perplexed by my question. I didn’t want to scare her, but this didn’t make sense to me. “Marcus organized everything. It just seems odd to me that his desk at home would be so messy,” I said casually. Either he had been in a hurry, or someone else had gotten there before us. I would bet money on the latter.

  I sat down in his chair and started going through the documents. It looked like someone had just dumped his files out and started combing through them. After fifteen minutes of sorting bills and mortgage documentation, I came up with nothing and checked through the drawers. Marcus was fanatical about keeping all of his bills, everything from grocery store receipts to his electricity and water bills for the last two years. But other than that oddity, I found nothing.

  “We should check the rest of the house,” I said, looking around the room again in case I’d missed something. I had this feeling that if we were going to find anything, it would have been in here. I was just about to go around the desk, when I noticed a balled-up piece of paper near the empty trash can. I opened it and stared at the little stick-figure doodles that ran along the margin.

  “You find something?”

  “Nah, just some doodles. I just remembered Marcus used to doodle all the time. Sort of makes me sad thinking about it.”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Riley said quietly, and I smiled despite myself. I loved it when she called me baby. Made me feel…well, like I belonged to someone.

  “Come on, let’s go check out the bedroom.” I wadded up the paper and banked it off the rim of the trash can, prepared to follow Riley to the bedroom, when I had a flash, sort of a vision of Marcus sitting at his desk in the file room, doodling. Whenever he was in deep thought about something, he would doodle. He always kept a pad of paper near his desk just for that reason. I hadn’t seen anything like that on the desk tonight, other than the balled-up piece that had missed the trash can.

  I got down on my knees and peered under the desk. “Yes,” I hissed as I retrieved a small pad.

  Marcus had scribbled things like pay bills, call Grandma; and there were a few of his signature stick figures all over the margins of the paper. I thumbed through before I stopped on my own name drawn with heavy bold lines around it several times. Beneath it were Smitty’s and a few other names of people I didn’t know.

  “Bingo,” I said under my breath.

  I tried to ignore the chill that had been stealing up my spine since the moment I saw my name written at the top of the list. There was my proof. Whatever was going on, whatever Marcus had been working on, I was involved. I showed Riley the list.

  Foster Everett

  Joseph Smith

  Nathan Stein

  Michael Albert

  Eric Ann

  She frowned as if she’d been offered a word puzzle. “Do these mean anything to you?”

  “I’m bad with names.” I tried to ignore the chill stealing up my spine. Whatever was going on, whatever Marcus had been working on, I was involved. The list was my proof. We found nothing else in the office, or in his bedroom, but I wasn’t ruling anything out, so we started on the kitchen. Marcus’s refrigerator was full, as if he’d just gone to the store. His cabinets were full of airtight containers, each labeled with a date and a name. A container marked FB was the largest in the cabinet, and it was marked over a month before. I sniffed the contents and decided against a taste test. There was something just too fucked up about raiding a dead man’s cupboards, even if he had been a friend and probably wouldn’t have been offended. The kitchen, as I expected, netted us nothing, so I turned off the light and Riley followed me toward the front door.

  I was reaching for the doorknob when I heard it, a metallic banging noise. Someone had just removed the mail from Marcus’s mailbox. Riley and I froze. The sound of jingling keys and someone fumbling with the doorknob finally jogged me out of my stupor.

  The air left my lungs in a soft gust as I grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her into the living room. Luckily for us, Marcus’s couch was facing the fireplace. I pushed Riley down on the floor and, heart thumping, pulled the .38 out of my ankle holster. I held my breath at the whisper of fabric and the tap-tap-tap of high heels on linoleum. A light went on in the kitchen, giving Riley and me just enough illumination that we could vaguely see each other.

  “Yes he did, girl. I told her ass to dump him a long time ago. Hold on a minute. Here, FB…FB, come on now.” Then we heard the sound of something being shaken; it sounded like a cereal box.

  Shit. I remembered Marcus picking cat hair off his pant legs. “I think he has a cat,” I mouthed to Riley.

  A loud popping noise made us both jump as the refrigerator and a cabinet door were opened. The noise was repeated three more times rapidly, right after each other, like automatic weapons being fired from a distance. It took me a few seconds before I realized what I was hearing. “Son of a bitch!” I eased my head up and over the back of the couch, confident that the darkness would hide me as long as the person wasn’t looking directly into the living room. I recognized her instantly, right down to the cell phone attached to her ear like a deformed twin.

  “Girl, I don’t know where this cat is.” Chandra prefaced her words with three more machine-gun pops of her gum. “Last time I saw him, he had hard-ass dingleberries just a-swinging off his ass. I’m not lying. Looked like Swedish meatballs.”

  I sank back down on the floor and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. Neither Riley nor I would be partaking of that particular entree for a very long time, you could bet your ass on that one.

  Chandra chuckled. “Marcus named him Funky Butt for a reason.” Her voice lowered a little as she said Marcus’s name. “Oh yeah. So anyway, girl, she called me the other day, just a cryin’ and carrying on. She said her and Keith broke up. So me being me, I’m like, ‘Beverley, you know men need to be reminded about anniversaries.’” Chandra lowered her voice as if she were afraid of being overheard, but we could still hear her just fine. “She then proceeds to tell me that he didn’t forget. No, girl, he didn’t. He comes running into the house, hands her a gift, and runs into the bathroom.” She paused and took a dramatically deep breath, “Girrrl, he got her a weed whacker.” Chandra cackled loudly. “No, I’m not lyin’. But that’s not even the kicker. He comes out the bathroom fanning hisself, right? Like he just ran a marathon or something. And he says…are you ready for this?”

  I rolled my eyes, wishing I had an Oscar for best dramatic actress in my hand so I could hit Chandra over the head with it.

  “That fool said he was going to stop and buy her roses, but he couldn’t ’cause he had to shit.”

  Riley and I looked at each other, horrified. That poor, poor bastard, I thought.

  “Girl, I’m not lyin’ to you. That’s what she told me he said. Hold on a minute.”

  I heard a beep as she hit a button on her cell phone
. “Hell-o? Yeah, Terence, I’ll be home in a minute.” The beep told me that Chandra pushed end in lieu of a good-bye to Terence.

  “Girl, let me let you go so I can get this man his dinner before I have to hurt him. All right now, bye-bye.” Chandra’s heels skittered across the linoleum, and a moment later, the door shut behind her.

  “Who was that?” Riley whispered.

  “Her name’s Chandra. She worked with Marcus. I guess she came in to feed the cat. She always did that when he was on vacation.” I paused as the beginnings of a plan started to take form in my head. “I have an idea. Come on.”

  *

  I sat at the table staring down at Marcus’s pad of paper as Riley moved around behind me. She handed me bottled water, which I accepted gratefully, my eyes not leaving the pad. It could be nothing, but I couldn’t see Marcus writing my name and Smitty’s—who he hardly even knew—along with these other people’s, unless we were all somehow connected.

  “They’re all neat,” Riley commented. “It’s like he wrote the names first and then doodled all around them.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too. But I don’t recognize any of them, other than Smitty’s and mine. I can’t help thinking that I’m missing something.”

  “It could be just a list, for a party or something.”

  “Could be, but Marcus didn’t know Smitty that well. I doubt he would have invited him to one of his parties. I could probably ask Stacy if any of these names look familiar. She knows more of Marcus’s friends than I do. They go way back.”

  “So what’s your idea?”

  I hesitated. “I think Chandra might be able to help.”

  “Can you trust her?”

  I thought about that for a minute. Chandra and I had never exactly been friends. I wasn’t sure why, but she’d always seemed to avoid me like the plague when I worked down in Records. But Marcus and she were really close, and I was hoping that she would want to find out who’d killed him as much as I did.

  I rearranged the toys in Bud’s mouse playhouse to avoid those penetrating blue eyes. “I think so. She was a good friend of Marcus’s.”

  “So you’re going to ask her what he was working on?”

  “Yes, and I thought she might be able to run the names on the list.” The Records Department had access to the same databases that I had when I worked a case. “It’s very possible that whoever these people are, they may come up in the system.”

  “She works with cops, Foster. What if she…”

  I pressed the side of my face into her back. To my surprise, she turned around and hugged me.

  “Chandra won’t turn me in, okay? Please trust me. I know her. She will want to get the bastards that killed Marcus as much as I do.” I felt Riley sigh and realized just how tense she had been as her muscles relaxed beneath my hands. “It’s late. Why don’t we get some sleep?”

  She willingly allowed me to lead her to the bed, neither of us having the energy to be apart long enough to shower in the cramped bathroom. I lay awake long after her breathing had evened out.

  I had told Riley that I was positive Chandra wouldn’t turn me in. It was more than just a little fib. I wasn’t at all sure Chandra wouldn’t turn me in. I was banking all my trust in her friendship with Marcus. I hoped that I was right, because if I wasn’t…

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What the fuck?” She turned around, swinging a big-ass purse.

  I reached for my gun with one hand and held the other out to calm her. “No, wait. It’s me, Foster.”

  She swung the purse again, this time barely missing my head. “Are you trying to scare the shit out of me?”

  “No. I just want to talk to you for a minute, okay?” I lowered my gun. “Calm down, please.”

  “You calm down. Some crazy shit has been happening.” She glared at me. “And you know what? I just bet you’re the cause of most of it.”

  That comment hit a bit too close to home. Annoyed, I said, “I’m here to find out what happened to Marcus.”

  “I don’t know what happened, okay? If I did, I probably wouldn’t tell you anyway. The police say it was a hate crime, and maybe that’s all it was.” She stormed into the kitchen and started slamming cabinet doors.

  I looked toward the living room, where Riley would be listening. It would be easy to just go over there, tell her “That’s it,” and drive back to the cabin tonight. But I couldn’t do that, not until I was sure.

  I reluctantly followed her into the kitchen. “Shit, Chandra, will you just listen, please? Can you at least tell me what Marcus was working on?”

  She took down the large container marked FB and set it on the counter. “Look, all I know is things got weird after you left. Marcus started looking at some files, and then some guys came in and took your computer. Thing is, everybody knows they’re after you for something, but nobody knows what it is. Marcus said he was going to find out. Then he turns up dead.” Her eyes bored into mine, and I felt the sickening nausea of guilt as it settled in my stomach.

  “He was trying to help you, and it got him killed. So pardon me if I ask you to stay the fuck away from me, ’cause if I wanted a death sentence, I would go suck on a crack pipe. Least I would feel good before I committed suicide.”

  “Damn it, I told…” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Marcus was still looking into the case; it was even possible that he had been killed because of me. I stood there, breathing harshly as pain settled in the base of my throat. It was almost too quiet. I wanted, no needed, out of Marcus’s house.

  “I don’t want no part of what you’re selling, so why don’t you just leave. Seems to me you’ve already got enough people hurt.” Her voice held a note of compassion in it, almost as if she knew I was hurting but couldn’t do anything to help me. Hell, I didn’t know what to do to help me. I needed to see Riley.

  “Chandra, please…I just need…” I stopped and swallowed. I couldn’t seem to think clearly. Had I given Marcus a death sentence? Should I have been more firm when I told him to stop looking into things?

  “Foster?” Riley’s voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

  “Aw shit, what the hell?” Chandra jumped as Riley suddenly appeared from behind the couch. “How many people you got in here?”

  “You were supposed to stay out of sight,” I said with absolutely no conviction. I felt like my energy had been drained.

  Riley didn’t bother answering me; she just grabbed my hand and looked at Chandra with a scowl that nearly joined her two dark eyebrows together. I don’t think I had ever seen Riley so angry with anyone before, and I was really glad it wasn’t directed at me. “Let’s go. You don’t need her help.”

  I allowed her to pull me toward the door, feeling as if I was in a nightmare that wouldn’t end. First Smitty and now Marcus.

  “Wait!” Chandra took a couple of steps, click clack. “Just…tell me what you want, okay? I’ll tell you if I can help you or not.”

  A meow rose from near my feet and a longhaired white and orange cat, about the size of a small dog, stood next to me. I moved out of the way, and it walked daintily into the kitchen with the elegance of a queen. Well, the whole thing would have been regal, if not for the large dingleberries hanging off its ass.

  “We found some names. Smitty’s and mine, along with a few others that I don’t recognize. I was wondering if you could run them to see what comes up.”

  I pulled the neatly printed list out of my pocket and handed it to her.

  She looked down at it for a moment. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” As I grinned, she added, “I said, I would see. I ain’t making no promises, so don’t get all happy and shit.”

  I nodded. “All right, that’s cool.”

  “Can I speak to you alone for a minute?” Chandra looked nervously at Riley.

  Before I could reply, Riley walked away toward the living room. Frowning, I watched her go. Is she angry with me now? I didn’t even do anything.

  In the kitchen, Chand
ra set a bowl of water on the floor for FB. She peeked around the door and then whispered to me, “Where the hell did you find her?”

  “She’s my friend, I didn’t find her anywhere,” I said evenly. Chandra was free to insult me to her heart’s content, but that freedom did not extend to Riley.

  Chandra waved me off. “I don’t know what you’re into, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. Once I get you this info, I want you out of my hair for good, okay?”

  “Sure, I understand. Thank you very much for helping me. I appreciate it.” She glowered at me harder. “What?” Damn, there is no pleasing this woman.

  “You’re being too nice,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh my God.” She pointed toward the living room, and I tried to pretend like I didn’t know what she was talking about. I couldn’t help the silly-ass grin that spread across my face. As inappropriate as it was, I was proud when the look of admiration crossed her face. “That’s some nice-looking woman you got. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  I think I should have felt insulted, but I just shrugged. “Hey, I’m not going to hang here while you fantasize about my girlfriend. I’ll give you Riley’s cell number, and you can call us if you find anything.”

  Chandra wrote the number down and finished feeding the cat. After she’d gone, I found Riley and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Sorry about losing it back there,” she said.

  I grinned. “That’s how you lose it? Man, remind me to tell you a few stories.” I gave her a peck on the lips before opening the door and peering outside. “You know, ever since I was about thirteen or fourteen I would blow up at the drop of a hat,” I said as we crossed to the Blazer. “I just couldn’t seem to control my anger.”

  “What changed?”

  “It hasn’t changed, really, but I think being a cop helped me redirect some of it.” I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t think I liked myself all that much, you know, when I was lashing out, but I didn’t know if I could stop doing it.”