by BJ Mayo
“Yes, Mrs. Rose. We have met on occasion when I was buying flower seeds for our flower garden. She is quite a, shall I say, an interesting lady.”
“I could not agree more, sir. Rose keeps very good records, it appears, and records each sale in a handwritten ledger. She keeps the signed receipt of each purchase categorically. In this case, the rope that was used in the hanging death of Jenna Couch was purchased by none other than Turtle Vines. He in turn loaned it out to one of the students of the high school.”
“Was it Jenna Couch, Detective?”
“No, I am afraid not. Turtle indicated it was one of the cheerleaders at the school. I believe he thought her name was Brittany, something like that.”
Mr. Orlager stood slowly, rubbing his head. His slightly balding head creased at the forehead. “Detective, this is beyond something I could ever dream up. That is beyond coincidental. That girl’s name is Britanee Phelps. She is captain of the cheerleading squad. That was her mother you saw coming out of my office. No worse chain of events could unfold, if she is tied up in this somehow. What are you saying happened?”
“Well, sir, I don’t know. I only know that the current set of facts as stated. Somehow this lead rope was used in the hanging death of Jenna Couch. I cannot say how it got to her. How many girls make up the cheerleading squad, Mr. Orlager?”
“Six on the main squad, and twenty-six on the pep squad.”
“Can you give me the names of all of the cheerleaders on the main squad and the pep squad?”
“Yes, sir, I can. I will type them up if that will do, so they are legible. That good with you?”
“Yes, sir, as long as I leave with them today, if possible.”
“That will not be a problem. I will start now.”
Carefully he inserted a blank sheet into his electric typewriter. Pausing before he started, he turned to me.
“You do realize, Detective, that once this can is opened, it can never be shut.”
“Yes, sir. That is what an investigation is about. All I want is to get to the truth of what happened on that night or evening and work accordingly from that. A young girl is dead. No one knows why or how it happened exactly. If it was by her own actions or others. But she is dead. There is an answer, and that is what I will find. Whoever lies in the wake of that boat will be called upon to tell what they know, understand?”
“Oh, I understand, Detective, I just know when a stink bomb goes off, you can smell it in every nook and cranny. I have a feeling this is going to be a bigger stink bomb than we both know. I know this woman. Her mama. Good grief, her mama. When you go to questioning her child, it is going to break loose. Be prepared.”
“I can handle her mother. Is she married?”
“Well, she is married, but the father is an absolute go-along-to-get-along kind of guy, as far as I can tell. He will not buck her. She is the king of their household. Maybe I should say queen. In any event, she absolutely rules the roost around that place. I attend all sports events surrounding the school. Every time I have seen them together, she is in the lead and he is two paces behind her. He never says much to anyone.”
“As I said, Mr. Orlager, I will be fine. If you will just give me the names, please, I will be on my way.
“One more thing, sir, is there someone in charge of the cheerleader squad, like an adult teacher or something?”
“Well that would be Ms. Samantha Divine, Detective. She teaches senior government classes. She is in charge of the troupe. Goes with them everywhere. I am not sure she is the one that came up with the need for a van to haul them separately from the rest of the girls. My bet it is that’s Britanee’s mama. Maybe both of them conjured it up.
“She has a conference period at 2:30 today. You want me to set it up to visit with her?”
“That will be fine, Mr. Orlager.”
“Please, Detective, call me Tom.”
“Okay, Tom, please set it up. Looks like we are at least moving in the right direction.”
Tom carefully typed the names of the cheerleading squad and members of the pep squad below them. He eyed the document and pulled it from the typewriter and handed it to me.
I studied the names of the cheerleaders first: Britanee Phelps, Wiley Arrott, Tempest Livingston, Olivia Rodriquez, Shiloh P. Jones, and Amber Plessington.
“If the cheerleaders cheer, what does the pep squad do, if I may ask?”
“You may ask. They cheer, just not on the field. The cheerleaders are the only ones allowed on the field. This subject has been brought up multiple times at the PTA meetings. The cheerleader moms obviously want the limelight for their girls, claiming that allowing both groups on the field would demean the meaning of being a quote ‘cheerleader’ in comparison to just being a pep squad person, if you will. I know that does not make much sense, and I wish we only had one big group that took the field with a rotating leader each week, or something like that. Would be a much fairer way to operate, and it would take the good looks and popularity out of the equation.
“I could never say that kind of thing publicly, you understand. I just cannot stand their social cliques and how they treat the other girls. Some of those pretty faces have a terrible heart and a less than high intellect. Crap, I should not have said that. I have just seen a lot, you understand. Their mamas are just as bad, if their girl is one of the six. Bad deal all the way around, and been that way for a long time. As I said, Britanee’s mama is a bully and won’t be shoved around by anyone. That is why I said earlier, this is going to be a stink bomb, I am afraid.”
“I thank you, Tom. You have been very helpful. It will go where it will go, stink bomb or no. Thanks for being candid. I am going to grab a bite to eat at Merle’s and then tag up with Mrs. Divine at 2:30. I am assuming at the teacher’s lounge area?”
“Yes, Detective. She will be there. She will be the one with red hair, usually in a ponytail, chewing gum. Won’t be hard to miss.”
“Tom, please remember this case is highly confidential, and the information we have discussed is not to be shared. Please inform you secretary. I know folks saw me come in, with my badge and gun. Please ease her fears and let her know she is not at liberty to share with anyone. You may be called to testify.”
“I got it, Detective. This ain’t my first rodeo. However, when the dust settles on this thing, it may well prove to be my last one.” He laughed.
“Maybe so, Tom, but I bet not.”
I made my way to the parking lot and got into my service vehicle. My mind was not in full pursuit mode, knowing the next bit of trail was going to be a little bumpy. But, I always rode in a good saddle. I might have to tie my rope tiedowns to my belt loops before it was over.
Merle was his usual gossipy self. I ordered a cheeseburger loaded with onion rings and a glass of tea.
“What you been up to, Alfie?” he asked. “Any big cases going on?”
“It’s pretty boring out there, Merle.”
“Crap, that is what you always say. I bet you have a big one going on. Any politicians in trouble? Arrest anyone for DUI or something?”
“Like I said, Merle, it is pretty boring out there.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
He went back to the bar, head tilted toward the conversations going on. I finished my meal, trying to burn time. The hamburger was delicious and the onion rings were just the way I liked them. If he did not serve good food, it would not be worth putting up with him.
Merle came by to fill my tea glass. “How about some chocolate pie, Alfie? Made it last night.”
“Yeah, go ahead and bring me a piece. That sounds good.”
His chocolate pies were to die for, as they say, the pecan pies even better. He always had just the right thickness of chocolate to meringue on top, ratioed just right. His pie crusts tasted a little bit like the few my mama made from time to time.
Merle brought me my pie and a cup of coffee I did not ask for. But it smelled downright heavenly. “Coffee is on the house, Detective. Tha
t will help your mind on any big cases you are working on and won’t tell me about,” he said, smiling as he set it down.
“Why, thank you, Merle. Like I said, it is just plain boring around here.”
I ate the pie slowly and sipped my coffee. It was always fun to observe the people in the café and Merle. If the military could have captured his ears, we would never have to worry about the incoming enemy, as he would hear them well before they reached our shores.
I arrived at the high school at 2:15 p.m. on the money and went to the teacher’s conference rooms. I sat in the small lobby outside the three conference rooms. I felt like the investigation was fixing to take a turn with Samantha Divine. It would lead to direct interviews with the rest of the cheerleading squad.
This would have to be handled especially carefully. Teenagers are a precariously tough group to interview. Testosterone, hormones, and sometimes less than steady brainwaves may have led to a few disturbing outcomes in past interviews. Even under the most basic questioning some would cower, become extremely defensive, cry, or bust out in uncontrollable giggles. I had become much better at interviewing them, the older I’d gotten, but it was still not one of my favorite things to do.
At precisely 2:30 p.m., Samantha Divine burst through the door. Exuberant is a good word for her. She had on casual blue jeans, a gold shirt, and, true to Mr. Orlager’s description, a bona fide footlong red ponytail. I think her hair may have been dyed that dark of a red. In any event, it was a striking visual when she burst through the door with her ponytail bouncing.
“Detective Carter, it is a pleasure,” she said as she grabbed my hand with both of hers. She did look me straight in the eye. “Tom told me you wanted to sit down in conference with me. You don’t have a child in school I am aware of, do you? Maybe from another marriage, with a different name? I know all of my government students like the back of my hand.”
“Ms. Divine,” I started.
“Please, Detective, call me Samantha.”
“Okay, Samantha. No, ma’am, I do not have any children at your school.”
“Well, then, Detective, what may I ask do we have to discuss?”
“Well, Samantha, you do remember Jenna Couch that was on the pep squad?”
“Why, yes, sir, I do. What a tragic suicide. It really shook up the whole squad. We have done our best in the leadership group to assist with any questions the girls might have.”
“Did any of the girls have questions?”
“A few of the girls on the pep squad did ask why she would take her life like that. You know, all of the basic questions a teenager would ask during a time of tragedy like that. I think most of them have just moved on in their circles.”
“What about the cheerleading squad?”
“The cheerleading squad?” she asked. “Why, they are not part of the pep squad, like Jenna Couch was. They are a completely different group. In fact, it may not be long that they will be traveling by van to all games, kind of goodwill ambassadors of the school, you know.”
“Well, Samantha, I guess that would be okay if that occurs, being ambassadors and all. However, with that being said, this complete interview is confidential. I am letting you know right now that you may or may not be called upon in a hearing or trial, do you understand?”
She stopped chewing her gum and stared dumbfounded at me. “A trial? What on earth are you talking about? I have done nothing wrong.”
“I did not say or imply you did anything wrong. I am just saying that things have occurred that lead me to have to interview all of the cheerleaders.”
She gasped with her hands over her mouth. “For what, for crying out loud? These are just girls. They are my girls. You better have a very good reason, Detective.
“Please forgive me, I did not mean to say that, I mean, this is just so much to take in. What happened?”
“First of all, Samantha, I will ask you to lock entrance and exit doors in this conference room and draw the shades. I would like to conduct our interview in normal tones, as walls can be thin, you understand?”
She got up and locked both doors, pausing at each in deep thought. She looked at me as she closed the shades on the outside wall. Composing herself, she sat down.
“Okay Detective, I’m ready. Or at least I think I am.”
“Samantha, as you may have heard, Jenna Couch was found at a lake house a short time ago. She was found hanging from a rope with a stool under her. I will not tell you all of the evidence I have gathered thus far, but there are a few things you need to know.”
Samantha looked straight into my eyes with deep concern. “Was any of my girls involved, detective? I mean, that would be really bad for the school.”
“Samantha, we have a dead teenager, and I am trying to get to the bottom of it. The reputation of the school is not my priority.
“On the night before Jenna Couch was found, it has been reported that four girls came to her house in the county for about twenty minutes.”
“So how does that pertain to any of my girls?”
“Well, two of them were blonde, they were all dressed alike in short bottoms and matching tops. Each girl was reported to have on black and yellow shoes and socks. It was hard to see clearly at that time of day.”
“It could have been any girls dressed up like that,” she said.
“The girl driving was in a two-toned blue Ford Bronco with raised white letters on the tires. Chrome strip in the middle.”
Samantha gasped.
“Ms. Divine, do any of your pep squad or cheerleaders drive something that meets that description? It was reported to be maybe three or four years old.”
Samantha bent over and put her head in her hands.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” I asked.
“Britanee Phelps has a vehicle like that,” she said.
“Can you tell me a little more about her?”
“Detective, she is the head cheerleader and her mom is head of the PTA. It cannot be her. Maybe she loaned it out or something.”
“Samantha, it has also been reported that she may have borrowed the rope from the Ag dept in your school, the rope that Jenna Couch was found hanging with.”
“Are you saying that Britanee hanged her?”
“No, ma’am, I am saying that the lead rope used in the hanging was purchased locally and has a definitive stamp on the shank clasp. It was traced to purchase, date and time, to the head of the Ag department at your school.”
“Are you saying that Turtle Vines was involved with this?” Samantha said.
“I interviewed Mr. Vines, and he indicated that one of the cheerleaders, Britanee, as he recalled, asked to borrow a lead rope. He loaned it to her, believing it was for some type of high school project.”
Samantha sat and looked blankly at the ceiling. “I just cannot believe that she would have anything to do with Jenna’s death. It just does not make sense.”
“Do you know if there was any animosity between the two, or with anybody on the squad for that matter?”
Samantha’s eyes began to tear up. “You know, Detective, now that I think about it they may have dated the same boy. Do you know of ET Junior? You know, Efron Tillman’s son. Do you know Efron Tillman?”
My heart skipped a beat. Damn, this is Effie Tillman’s son, I thought, not letting on to Ms. Divine.
“Why yes, I know Mr. Tillman. We went to high school together and ran track together, as a matter of fact. I read that his boy is a candidate to go to a division-one school on a football scholarship.”
“Why, yes indeed, Detective. The team is doing great because of his leadership on the field. Our girls are there to boost him on.”
“So you believe Jenna Couch and Britanee Phelps were dating ET Junior?”
“Yes, sir, at some point. I know I saw Jenna and ET Junior walking down the hall together. I think she had on his class ring. Are you saying Britanee had something to do with this hanging, and Jenna did not kill herself?”
“No, ma’a
m, do not jump to conclusions. The investigation will take us where it goes. The county coroner called me this morning with the autopsy report on Jenna. It seems she was pregnant. Very early in the pregnancy, but pregnant nonetheless.”
Samantha burst into tears. “Do you think it was ET’s baby?”
“Well, we certainly do not know that at this point, but blood tests will probably be in order shortly, if needed.”
“Why, this whole thing is so bizarre. So surreal. It does not seem like it can be happening to my girls.”
“Samantha, like I said, I will follow where it takes me, and we do not know the answers to most of the equation as of yet. Like I said earlier, there are other pieces of evidence that I cannot speak about. You know I must interview the cheerleader squad, as a group first, and then individually. They will all hear the same thing from me as a group before I take each one in a closed interview session. This will be done at the police station, so as not to attract attention, do you understand?”
“I understand, Detective. When do you want to see them?”
“At this point, I will contact each of the parents and set the time for next week. The parents have the right to show up, but cannot intervene in the questioning. You are not to say anything to anyone about our conversation, do you understand?”
“Yes, Detective, I completely understand.”
With that said, I stood and put on my hat. I offered my hand, but she did not accept it. She stood and walked to the door, to let me out without saying a word.
“Remember, Samantha, not a word.”
She never looked up as she nodded.
“One more thing, Samantha. This is a very serious case with potentially serious consequences for anyone involved. I will be in touch.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mingas sat quietly, away from his small band of guerilla fighters, looking through his ever-present spyglass. They were mostly captured and indoctrinated young boys and two steadfast lieutenants. The two older men’s intelligence might have been in question, but their loyalty to the leader was not. Eduardo, the one with the machete wound close to his eye, was a fierce and deadly killer. He wore only boots and pants, with a cotton vest wrapped with the ever-present leather bullet strap. His bloodlust was paramount. He was known for his extreme cruelty to the boys in the band. Mingas let him have at it with little interference. Fits of rage, threatening to kill and behead each of the boys was a daily performance. But when Mingas completed his plans for the next attack or raid, it was he alone who was in complete control. Eduardo feared him above all other things. Mingas, void of any type of feelings for human life, was first and foremost a self-preservationist. Mariel, the second lieutenant, was of no sound mind. Years of smoking brown-brown had left his brain void of continuous thought. He was fraught with fits of laughter and loved to crow like Mingas’s prize lookout roosters, firmly tethered around Mingas in a large circle.