Find Me When I'm Lost
Page 22
When Sharon’s knees buckled, Charlie and Pamela caught her before she crumpled to the floor. Pamela supported her mother—half walking, half carrying her to the couch. The shocked attorney, immobilized during the shooting, stood to make space for the two women.
Don and Wallace grabbed Stan Fairchild, putting pressure on his wounds and finally cutting off a spurting vein in his arm with his tie.
“Ambulance,” Wallace shouted to the tech.
“Blanket,” Don shouted to the butler.
Holding the gun, Charlie sat in one of the straight chairs. On one side of the stately living room, Peter Fairchild’s mother cascaded in grief and sobs. Across from her, Peter’s father fought for his life.
Chapter 28
Serena, Charlie, Don, and Judy met with Detective Wallace at police headquarters two days later. The response to the revelations surrounding Peter Fairchild’s murder left the city in a swirl of attention from the media, the governor’s office, and Detroit’s business and civic leaders. The Detroit police were praised by national television networks for their dedication and tenacity in finding the truth in a case of power versus justice.
A statement from the Fairchild family, delivered by their personal attorney, asked for privacy so they could deal with the triple tragedies of Peter’s death, Stanford’s arrest and injuries, and Sharon’s admittance to a nearby respite facility.
“Mrs. Fairchild isn’t being charged in the shooting,” Wallace announced.
“You think that’s right?” Serena asked.
“Yes. And I got that word passed down to me from upstairs. So it doesn’t matter if I think it’s right or not. Fairchild is recovering from his gunshot wounds, and he’s not pressing charges against his wife. We’re focusing on bigger issues.”
“The brass aren’t backing down on Fairchild, are they?” Charlie asked.
“No. Just the opposite. With all the problems we’ve had in the department the last few years, everyone agrees we should go after Fairchild with all our resources. The chief, the county prosecutor, the mayor’s office, even the feds agree. Travers is leading the task force.”
“The feds are involved?” Judy asked.
“Yes. The criminal activity in Canada is under federal jurisdiction.”
“And my friend, Captain Travers, is coming out of hiding to take control of the investigation. How big of him,” Charlie said sarcastically.
“It will be another feather in his cap,” Wallace said.
“And Franklin?” Serena asked.
“Your client will be transported back to the city today. He’ll be brought here to headquarters. He’s still being charged with obstruction of justice, and there’s a warrant for evading police hanging over him. But he can do a bond hearing today and be out this afternoon.”
“We’ll be fighting the obstruction charge,” Serena said matter-of-factly.
“Of course you will, counselor,” Wallace replied.
“What are the charges against Fairchild?” Don asked.
“So far there are four counts of conspiracy to commit murder, with additional counts if we get valid evidence on the attack on Don in Toronto, and the first attack on Rogers outside of your mother’s apartment, Ms. Mack.”
“What about obstruction?” Serena asked.
“Yes. Obstruction, bribery, and maybe a few other things.”
“When he gets well enough, he’ll fight you tooth and nail,” Charlie said.
“That’s already begun. Fairchild’s lawyers are already in full battle gear.”
“They’ll still be litigating this case five years from now,” Serena predicted.
# # #
Franklin called Charlie at home asking to meet with her. When she left the house that afternoon it was with the promise that she and Mandy would take a weekend trip to Florida to soak up some sun and relax together. The last-minute plane fares would be expensive, but Charlie was receiving a nice bonus from Serena Carruthers, thanks to the retainer from Pamela Fairchild.
Franklin’s mother answered Charlie’s ring at the door and gave her a long, warm hug before Franklin escorted Charlie to his father’s study. A large desk sat heaped with papers, Bibles, a large monitor, and a computer keyboard. The exes faced each other in two large leather chairs in front of the desk. Charlie had been in this room one other time, when Pastor Rogers consulted with them on the sanctity of marriage.
“I want to thank you for everything, Charlie,” Franklin said, smiling. “You found me and saved me.”
“There were a lot of people on your side. And now you have Serena. In my opinion, she’s the best lawyer you could have to fight the charges against you.”
“I agree.”
Franklin’s arm wound had healed, he was clean-shaven again, and he’d gained back a bit of the weight lost in the stress of being a fugitive and a victim. But he had a sadness that crept into his laugh lines and dulled his eyes. He was still a wounded man.
“How are things with Pamela?”
Franklin shrugged. “I saw her yesterday. We met at Belle Isle and talked in her car for a long time. She’s still reeling from the truth about her father and very worried about her mother. There’s no happy ending here.”
“How is Sharon?”
“Depressed. Still recovering at an undisclosed facility. She remembers shooting Stanford, but doesn’t remember anything after that. I feel awful for her.”
“Does Pamela have any explanation for her father’s behavior?”
“Not really.” Franklin slid to the edge of his chair and leaned forward. “She’s going to leave me, Charlie.”
“What?”
“Pamela insists on a separation. She says she needs to focus her energy on her mother’s health.”
“And her father’s defense?” Charlie asked.
Franklin nodded. He was crushed with sadness. Like the night they’d met after days of hiding from police. The waves of Franklin’s despair touched Charlie over and over as they sat only a few feet from each other.
“She’s made a choice,” Charlie said.
Franklin reached for Charlie’s hand, and their fingers entwined.
“I think I made the wrong choice when I let you go.”
“It was more a matter of me letting you go. Remember?”
“I should have fought for us to stay together. To work through our differences.”
Charlie released Franklin’s hand. “No. It wouldn’t have worked. I shouldn’t have married you. I apologize for that. I really hadn’t accepted myself then. I didn’t understand the depth of my feelings for women.”
“For Mandy?”
“Yes. For Mandy. I lost myself in the confusion of other people’s opinions.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Two old friends who had loved each other, and let each other go. For all the right reasons.
“What do I do now?” Franklin asked.
“Well, you’ve come home. Let yourself be taken care of for a while.”
# # #
Charlie and Mandy dropped Hamm off at Ernestine’s apartment before their afternoon flight to Florida. Charlie followed him around the one-bedroom apartment as he sniffed the corners, the carpet, the counters, the patio door. Finally, the two of them sat on the kitchen floor.
“Okay, boy, you’re staying with Grandma for a couple of days. You be good now.”
“We’ll be fine,” Ernestine said, laughing. “Your father would be amused to know that I have a forty-pound, four-legged grandson.”
“He’ll let you know when he’s hungry,” Mandy said. “Which is all the time. But only morning and evening is good to feed him. All his bowls and food and treats and instructions are in the bag.”
“We’ll be fine, I said. I already have plans for our walks. My friends in the building who have dogs are excited to have a couple of new members for their group outing. And don’t worry. I won’t forget a thing about taking care of my granddog.”
# # #
It’s true that if
your day to day experience is flat-gray skies, bitterly cold wind, and accumulations of snow, February is a wonderful time to be in Florida. The green of the palms, the sounds of the gulls, the splash of water around your ankles secures you to a vitality that is a faint memory during Detroit’s long winters.
Charlie rubbed sunblock on Mandy’s back. The resort’s private beach had pockets of singles and small groups lounging on chairs and blankets this morning. Some with umbrellas and hats. Most with towels displaying the resort’s initials.
“I’m glad you suggested this trip,” Charlie said, lathering on the creamy lotion. “Done. Now put a little on my back.”
Mandy tugged down the swimsuit straps and rubbed lotion across Charlie’s shoulder blades. “This lavender suit looks good against your skin.”
“I love your new two-piece. You made a lot of heads turn when you walked down to the water.”
“What about your head? That’s the one I want to turn.”
“Ha. It’s been spinning since dinner last night. Then there was the hot tub . . . and then after. To tell the truth, Mandy, my head’s been full of only you since I saw you four years ago on the dance floor.”
“You were with Franklin that night.”
“We were friends. We are friends.”
“I hope you’ll always be friends.”
“He’ll be hurting for a while. But he has his family.”
“You used to be his family.”
Charlie turned over in her chair and stared into Mandy’s eyes. “You, and Mom, and Hamm are all the family I need.”
Mandy smiled, then it faded. “I’m afraid family didn’t mean very much to Stanford Fairchild.”
A shadow fell across them, and they both looked up to find a tuxedoed waiter carrying a tray with two cocktails. He set the two drinks down next to them.
“Well, you know what Don always says: blood may be thicker than water, but it ain’t thicker than liquor.”
They both laughed, sipping on the largest piña coladas they’d ever seen.
About the Author
A Detroit native, Cheryl A. Head now lives on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. Her novels Long Way Home: A World War II Novel and Catch Me When I’m Falling were Next Generation Indie Book Award finalists, and Bury Me When I’m Dead was a 2017 Lambda Literary Award finalist and was included in the Detroit Public Library’s African American Booklist. In 2019, Head was inducted into the Saints & Sinners Hall of Fame. She currently serves as a board member for Bouchercon.
Charlie Mack Motown Mysteries:
Bury Me When I’m Dead
Wake Me When It’s Over
Catch Me When I’m Falling
Judge Me When I’m Wrong
Find Me When I’m Lost
Bywater Books
Copyright © 2020 Cheryl A. Head
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61294-176-9
Bywater Books First Edition: July 2020
Cover designer: Ann McMan, TreeHouse Studio
Author Photo by: Leigh H. Mosley
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, or, in the case of historical persons, are used fictitiously.
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