by J. D. Mason
She must’ve nodded.
“You have to answer the question out loud, Ms. Green.”
“Yes. They got along fine.”
“Were they getting along that night? The night he was killed?”
“I suppose.”
Again, she could’ve elaborated. He could’ve made her elaborate, but he skipped over that opportunity like he had done with the last one.
“Is Desi a good student?”
“Yes. She is. Does all her homework, and I never have any problems with her.”
“Thank you, Ms. Green. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
What the fuck? Solomon was more than perplexed by the account of testimony from Ida Green and by the behavior of the defense. It made no sense. The man failed miserably on so many levels that Solomon had lost count. He didn’t push Ida for more information about the night in question, her romantic relationship with Julian, or the events leading up to Julian’s murder.
The transcript of the prosecution’s cross-examination painted a decidedly stronger position, delving deeper into the relationship Ida and Julian had, and pulling more detail from her about the events leading up his death. But the part of the transcript that struck Solomon the hardest were the last two sentences.
“Did you see Desi point the gun at Julian Gatewood?”
“I—don’t know.”
A copy of Ida Green’s official statement had been filed along with that transcript. In her statement, she wrote that Desi and Julian argued a lot. She noted that Julian was more of a father figure to Desi, and often times would try and tell her what to do. That night, the two of them had argued about Desi wanting to go to a party. He told her that she couldn’t go, and she disappeared to her room. Moments later, she came back with the forty-five her mother kept under her mattress, pointed it at Julian, and pulled the trigger.
I know she didn’t mean to do it, Ida’s statement concluded.
Ida had seen Desi shoot Julian. Maybe she lied on the stand to try and protect her daughter, but her testimony was weak on both sides, and she certainly didn’t appear to be going out of her way to help Desi’s case at all.
It was all slowly but surely starting to come together in his head. Someone had paid Mary Travis a small fortune to make sure that the jury came back with a guilty verdict. If they bought Mary, then chances were good that they’d bought and paid for Billings and Fleming to make sure she didn’t get off too. But Desi’s mother? That’s the pill that he had the hardest time trying to swallow. Her testimony did nothing to try and convince a jury that Desi was innocent. Ida had done just about everything she could to say as little as possible. But why? No matter how many ways he tried to look at it, the same conclusion kept coming back to him, twenty million dollars.
Forbidden Fruit
Olivia was having a dream, one that she couldn’t wake up from no matter how badly she wanted to.
“Get the hell off my property!”
“Open the door, Ida! Let me in! Please let me in!”
“Get away from my door!”
“I can keep them from killing her, Ida! I’m the only one who can!”
All Olivia could hear was the sound of the wind, blowing past her. She listened for birds but couldn’t hear even one of them singing from the trees. Sorrow carried thick across the breeze, brushing against her skin, leaving behind a sticky residue. And just when she had given up and was about to turn around and leave, Ida unlocked the front door, opened it just a bit, and walked away from it. Olivia cautiously let herself in.
The first thing she saw was the bloodstained carpet. She turned her head to where Ida stood, and stared at her, confused. Why in the world hadn’t she cleaned it up? Why would she just leave it there like that?
She wasn’t very pretty. Ida Green was small with big, wide eyes, and a mane of thick hair sitting wild on her head. She wore a baggy men’s sweatsuit, two sizes too big.
“I told them what you did!” Ida blurted out. “Told them every damn thing!” Olivia walked toward her, and for every step she took forward, Ida took one back. “They think my baby did this! They think Desi shot him!”
“You told them she didn’t?”
“Damn right, Olivia!” she shouted defiantly. “Damn right I told!”
A lump swelled in Olivia’s throat. “Then how come I’m not in custody?”
Naturally, Ida had no answers. How could she?
“Why are you here?” Ida asked, bitterly.
Olivia had started to shake. No one knew she’d come here, not the attorneys, not her children. They all believed that Olivia was beside herself with grief, that she was fragile and falling apart, and she was, but not over Julian’s death. She was all of those things over his life, this part of his life, with Ida and Desi, but strangely relieved now that he was dead.
After taking a good long look at Ida, Olivia scanned the room, still amazed that a man of Julian’s stature could ever be happy in this place. If he loved Ida, why hadn’t he bought her a bigger house? She lowered her gaze and fixed her sights on the dirty carpet.
“It doesn’t seem like he’s gone,” Olivia said, softly. “Does it?”
If Ida heard her, she didn’t respond.
Olivia turned to her again. “Do you miss him?”
Ida’s face twisted in confusion. “What the hell are you doing here, Olivia?”
“Desi?” Olivia tried to smile. “Pretty name.”
“H-How could you do that to her?” Ida asked, quivering.
“How could you do what you did, Ida?” Olivia’s voice cracked. “Julian was my husband. My husband! Not yours!” She pointed her finger to her own chest. “He married me! Not you!”
“Punish me then, Olivia! But don’t make her pay for my mistake!”
Olivia drew back her shoulders, and stood looking down her nose at Ida. “It’s out of my hands, now,” she said, defiantly.
“You have everything to do with it! Go to the police! Tell them what really happened. Tell them that you pulled the trigger. You shot Julian!”
“It’s not that simple,” she said, quietly.
Ida wiped away her tears. “I got about six reporters that are gonna be in my front yard in the morning. If the sheriff won’t listen to me, then I’ll tell them what really happened.”
“If you’re lucky, somebody’ll believe you. If they don’t, though, then you should say a long, hard prayer for Desi.”
“They’ll let her go when I tell them what happened.”
“You could be right.” Olivia swallowed. “Or, they may just see what I see; a mother who loves her child and will do or say anything to get her off. No one else will accept that I shot him, Ida. Not the sheriff, my driver—no one. It would be your word against mine, and I guarantee you that yours can’t possibly hold the same weight as mine.”
“I know you don’t expect me to just sit here and not do anything! My baby doesn’t belong in jail, and she doesn’t deserve to go to prison over something you did!”
“The world isn’t always fair. Consider this her first real lesson.”
“I won’t let you take my daughter!”
“You took my husband!” Olivia lost control and cried. “My life!” She felt her knees grow week, and struggled to continue standing. “How could you?”
Ida sobbed. “ You’re punishing me. You’re using her to punish me.”
Olivia managed to compose herself. Desi’s innocent face stuck in Olivia’s head. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that young girl, standing there, wide-eyed and shocked. It was never her intention to put the blame for what happened on Desi. Ida had run out of the house right after it happened. She’d left them both standing there, Desi and Olivia, and Julian lying bleeding on the floor.
“They’ll kill her,” Olivia said, softly. “She’ll get the death penalty. You know she will.”
Ida broke down crying even harder. “Lord! No! No!”
“Or she could serve time,” Olivia continued. I don’t know how long,
but, at least if she serves time, she can come out someday.”
Ida shook her head. “She can’t go to prison! Desi can’t—”
“Neither can I! I’d die in a place like that!”
“And she won’t?”
“She’s young, Ida,” Olivia argued. “Trust me when I tell you that the only two options for Desi are the death penalty, or to serve time. It’s already been decided. It’s done. But I can make sure she doesn’t get the death penalty. And I can promise you that she can have the money.”
Everyone had a price. Ida Green was no different. Julian had thought he’d hidden it well enough that Olivia would never find out about it. When a rich man dies, the question of his money comes into play even before they put him in the ground. The attorneys found every last cent, even what he’d hidden in his mother’s name and flowed down to the bogus entity that led straight to Ida.
“Think about what I’m saying,” Olivia begged. “Think about it. Your daughter could die, and you’ll lose absolutely everything.”
Ida fell to the floor on her knees.
“Or, she can serve a prison sentence. She loses some years, but she still has a chance at her life. She can get out and rebuild with the money that Julian left you. She can start over. But you have to promise not to tell anyone about me. You have to promise to keep this secret, Ida, and to see to it that Desi keeps it, or I swear, she won’t ever get out of prison alive. It’s done. The trial hasn’t started, and I know how this will end. I already know, Ida.”
That was the day that Ida sold her daughter to her fate, or she bought her from it. It was hard to say.
Trouble in Mind
“A football.” Lonnie held the pigskin in front of her with the tips of her fingers as if it was covered in slime. She looked at Jordan who’d told her he had a surprise for her. He’d brought her out to the park, pulled a football out of his trunk, and handed it to her.
“That looks good on you,” he grinned.
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
He took it from her hands. “Go long?”
Lonnie looked like he’d spoken to her in German. “What?”
“Run!”
Lonnie took off like he’d fired a gun into the air, and moments later the ball goes whizzing by her head. She ducked and screamed. He chased her down, scooped her up, and spun her around.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Lonnie yelled. “Do I look like Tim Tebow to you?”
“No, thank God!”
It was the first time she’d ever seen him like this. Relaxed, playful, running around her like a little kid. Even naked, Jordan was an imposing and sophisticated figure. That afternoon, he’d been transported back to a time in his life when he wasn’t in charge of an empire. He was just some guy.
Jordan and Lonnie lay spread out on a blanket, drinking wine, and feeding each other fruit and cheese. “So, you falling for me yet?”
Lonnie laughed. “I fell for you a long time ago.”
“I’m serious.”
“I thought you said I didn’t have to.”
“When did I say that?”
“You said I didn’t have to love you back.”
“So, that means you don’t plan on it?”
“You lied to me.”
“I did. I admit it. I figured I’d give you a few days, and you’d come around.”
Lonnie laughed. “Then you don’t know me at all.”
“Oh, I know you better than you give me credit for, Yolanda.”
“I certainly hope not.”
* * *
It was such a beautiful day. Claire raised her face to the sun and let the warmth wash over her. Of course he was here. Claire could smell him in the air, she could feel him in the sun. Jordan was the whole world to her.
“Hey! Are you alright? Lady?”
“What was tha—Jordan?” She heard him. “Jord…”
“What the hell is wrong…”
He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much he meant to her. He didn’t know how deeply she loved him. Jordan didn’t listen. He was too busy. Always too busy.
“Meghan! Come here! Come to Mommy!”
“What’s wrong with that lady?”
“Come on!”
There … Of course it was him. The image of him blurred behind her tears, but she’d come out here to show him how much she loved him, and how hurt she felt when he broke her heart. All she wanted was to make him happy, to have his children. All she wanted was to be the wife he told her he’d wanted back when they were dating. He’d wanted her so much back then. He would call her at all hours, take her on exotic trips, bought her nice things.
“Claire?”
He was with some slut. He was with … with …
“Claire? What the hell did you do?”
“Oh my God!”
“Shut up!” Claire screamed at her. “Shut up! That’s my hussssban! My … husssban … Jordan!”
Could he see? Could he see now?
“Call 9-1-1!” Jordan called out.
The sun must’ve started to go down. It was getting so dark … so fast.
Jordan came to her. Claire held out her arms to embrace him. “Baby,” she sobbed. He could see, finally. He could finally see her love.
* * *
Claire had slit her wrists. Jordan and Lonnie watched shocked as the paramedics loaded her into the back of the ambulance. He could smell the alcohol on her breath.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said to Lonnie.
“Go,” she insisted.
“Can you get home alright?” he asked climbing into the back of the ambulance.
“I’ll be fine. Just go.”
* * *
It was late. Jordan was exhausted. Claire was stable and when he left, she was sleeping. He should’ve gone home, but home was the last place he wanted to be. Without even thinking about it, he ended up parked outside the building Lonnie lived in. He needed to talk. That’s all. Just to …
A ghost-gray Aston Martin pulled up to the front door. The windows were rolled down and he watched Lonnie and Desi talking in the car for several minutes before Lonnie finally got out and went inside.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, dismally.
A Beautiful Tale
Nobody
“Shocking footage surfaced on YouTube today of a brutal beating of a young man at the hands of a man who appears to be a federally appointed judge from the small, northeast Texas community of Blink. Authorities immediately removed the video from the Internet site, and have taken it into evidence. We have a clip of the incident, but must warn you that the scene is very graphic, and some viewers may find it offensive. The young man in the video is believed to be fifteen-year-old Aaron Baker, reported missing several months ago by his grandmother in Louisiana. There is also speculation that the body found two weeks ago in Pearsall, Texas could be that of Aaron Baker.”
Delilah sat across from him in the interrogation room, looking as white as a ghost. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and she stared at Russ like she didn’t even know him. There was no fight left in him. Russ felt every bit his age and then some. He was numb inside and out. The evidence against him was insurmountable, and he knew that it was only a matter of hours before they confirmed that the body they’d found belonged to Aaron.
“H-how long have you been…” Delilah couldn’t bring herself to say something she didn’t understand.
“It’s not what you think,” Russ said despondently. It was what he was supposed to say, rehearsed and scripted. But he didn’t mean a word of it. So, how could he possibly think he could convince her?
“He was just a boy, Russ.” Her voice quivered. “Our boys…”
Her implication shot a bolt of lightning straight through him. “I never laid a finger on our boys!” he shouted angrily. “Never! And don’t you dare sit there and accuse me either!” Russ composed himself then deflated again in his chair. “I thought he was nineteen,” he lied.
He told himself th
at’s what that boy was, that that’s what they all were, but Russ was forced to come to terms with the truth now. They were young. All of them were too young.
“Wasn’t I enough, Russ?” Delilah sobbed. “I thought I was enough.”
His heart went out to her, and broke in two. How could he ever make her understand that this had nothing to do with her? How could he convince her that he loved her now as much as the day they were married, and that he always would?
“It wasn’t you, honey,” he said, hoping she would believe him. “It was me. It was always me, Delilah.”
“And Tom?” She choked back tears. “Was what they said about him true too?”
Russ let his eyes close, and nodded.
“Then shame on both of you.” Delilah shook her head. “Shame on you. Weren’t you the one who said people who break the law just get what they deserve?”
“She saw to it that we did,” he admitted solemnly.
“W-who?”
He sighed. “Desi Green. She did this to me—to Tom.”
Delilah frowned. “No, Russ. No! You did this to yourself! You went to that place and molested young boys!” Delilah stood up and pointed her finger in his face. “You beat that boy until he was dead! And then you hid him out there in the middle of nowhere! You used him and you threw him away! You can’t blame anybody else for this!” An officer came into the room and pulled her out. “You can’t blame anybody for this but your damn self!”
* * *
Desi watched that video, horrified. He was so young. He was a child.
“The boy didn’t put the camera in the room,” Lonnie had told her. “Management did. They filmed all the clients in all the rooms. And they had more than one camera.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Leverage.” She shrugged. “Money.”
“How’d you get this tape, Lonnie?”
She looked at her. “I’ve got my sources.”
Desi picked up the phone and called Lonnie. “You see the news?”
Lonnie sighed. “I saw it. You still think we should’ve waited and let that bastard walk around free to do that to another kid?”