Tattered & Torn

by Carol Dean Jones

  “I haven’t been authorized go any farther. So, yes, I’ll leave it at that. Of course, Matt might decide to pursue it,” he added and saw his wife frown.

  “I want to get started on these hexagons,” Sarah said, changing the subject. “Would soup and sandwiches be okay for dinner?”

  “That would be fine,” he responded, relieved that she was willing to drop the subject for now.

  * * *

  The next morning Charles placed a call to East Middletown High School and asked for Jackson Davis. He was told that Mr. Davis was in class. Charles left a message for him to return the call at his convenience. Within the hour, Jackson called.

  “Mr. Davis, thank you for returning my call. I’m a detective working with the Middletown Police Department. I’m wondering if I could arrange an appointment to meet with you.”

  “What’s this about?” Jackson asked cautiously.

  “The department has been reviewing cold cases, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about the death of your stepmother, Clarissa Davis.”

  “Good Lord, detective. That really is a cold case! Clarissa’s been gone for over thirty years!”

  “I know. It came to our attention recently…”

  “When Dad’s second wife died, I assume,” Jackson interjected. “When are you folks going to leave my dad alone?” Charles thought the man was preparing to terminate the conversation, but instead Jackson said, “Sure, we can talk. Do you want me to come into the station?”

  Charles thought for a second. He had planned to meet with Dr. Davis at the school in order to convince him to come into the station, but it looked like that wasn’t going to be necessary. Dr. Davis was already offering to come in.

  “I’d appreciate that,” Charles responded. “What’s a good time for you?”

  “How about today. Let’s get this over with. My last class is finished at 3:45. I can be there by 4:15.”

  “That’s fine. Just ask for me when you arrive.”

  Jackson hung up the phone without a word, leaving Charles wondering if he would change his mind about the interview.

  He went into the kitchen where he found Sarah sitting at the table surrounded by white hexagons and a glue stick. “What are you doing?” he asked, picking up one of the completed hexagons. She explained about the foundation paper she had ironed onto the back of the hexagon and showed him how she was gluing the seam allowance under and finger pressing a sharp edge. She reached for the pile she had slip stitched together the previous evening so he could see the finished product.

  “Interesting,” he said, although she questioned just how interesting he actually found it. He seemed very distracted, and she knew he was in his own world right now.

  “Sophie is bringing over some of her finished blocks later, so you will be able to see how my white pieces fit in.”

  “Hmm,” he responded, his mind already on other things.

  “What happened when you called Jackson?”

  He briefly filled her in about his conversation with Jackson and his own reservations about whether he would actually show up.

  “You think he might not come?” she asked with her eyes on the seam allowance she was in the process of gluing down.”

  “It’s possible,” he said.

  “Hmm,” she responded, already lost in her own project.

  Charles poured himself a cup of coffee, reluctantly took two healthy cookies from his cookie jar, and headed for the computer room.

  Sarah sighed, realizing that their minds were on very different things right now. She felt somewhat distant from her husband when this happened, but she realized it was a good thing. The very fact that they both had interests that they pursued on their own, gave their lives together more depth, and when they met in the middle, they had much to share with each other.

  About that time, Sophie burst in the door, again coming in through the garage, knowing that Sarah was working in the kitchen. “Look at these blocks that I made last night with the fabric we picked out at Stitches.” She pulled out several of each fabric, bright oranges and yellows. “This gets much more sparkle in the quilt,” she said, quoting a phrase she had heard Sarah use often over the years, and now understood.

  “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

  “You bet I am. I should have started doing this years ago.”

  Sarah just smiled, thinking about all the times she had encouraged her friend to try quilting, but she had always been met with objections. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she said, raising an eyebrow

  “I know. I know. I should have listened to you.”

  “Pull up a chair and let’s see how my white paths look next to your blocks.”

  Sophie spread out several of her rosettes, and they placed the white hexagon path around them. “They are perfect!” Sophie exclaimed. “You keep making these segments, and I’ll start slip stitching them to my rosette blocks. We just might get this finished in time,” she added, looking delighted.

  “Are you going to make a label?” Sarah asked.

  “Already done,” Sophie responded, digging deep into her tote bag. She pulled out the label, and Sarah saw that Sophie had included her name as well.

  “Oh Sophie, this is your gift. I’m just helping. You shouldn’t have my name on it.”

  “Without your influence and now your help, this would never have happened. Your name goes right there with mine.”

  Chapter 23

  Lt. Matt Stokely took a seat on the sidelines and motioned for Charles to conduct the interview. Charles started by introducing Matt and again explaining that the department was looking at cold cases and, in particular, the death of his stepmother, Clarissa Davis.

  “My father didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re after. Doesn’t your file say it was an accidental overdose?” Jackson appeared to be calm, but Charles could always sense when anger was smoldering just under the surface.

  “Yes, and you’re father was cleared at the time, but we wanted to ask you a few questions if you’re willing to talk to us. You aren’t obligated to, but we’d appreciate it.”

  “Go ahead,” Jackson said, slumping almost imperceptibly. “There’s not much I can tell you at this point. That was more than thirty years ago. I was a thirteen-year-old kid.”

  Charles thanked Jackson and asked him to tell them about the night Clarissa died. Charles had read the reports and knew that Jackson had reported discovering his stepmother near death and had called 911. By the time the respondents arrived, Clarissa was pronounced dead. According to the investigating officer, the boy had been near hysterical and was taken into an emergency foster care placement since the father couldn’t be located and there was no known family.

  “I’m sorry she had to die, but I know it’s the best thing that could have happened to our family.”

  Out of the side of his eye, Charles saw Stokely stiffen.

  “Why do you say that, son?” Charles asked gently.

  “Everything changed that day. They took me to this shelter for the night, but the next day Dad came and got me. We went to the police station so he could identify the body and he was trembling, but he was sober. I don’t think he took another drink after that day. He said it was his fault and that he drove her to it.”

  “How so?”

  “I guess he meant by the way he treated her. He beat her mercilessly, but he would always say that she had asked for it, but I was afraid he’d kill her. Not on purpose, of course,” Jackson added quickly, looking around at Lt. Stokely and back at Charles. “I just mean he was a big guy in those days, and Clarissa was just a tiny little thing. But something happened the day he went in to identify the body. It was like he started coming out of a fog that he’d been in for years. He stopped drinking and started going to Alcoholics Anonymous every day.” Jackson stopped talking and seemed to be reliving those days in his mind.

  Charles encouraged him to continue. “Go on, son,” he said gently.

  “A few days after the fune
ral, Dad said to me that this was no life for the boys. They’d been through too much he said, and he took them to Clarissa’s mother and left them.”

  “Did he ever go back to see them?”

  “I don’t know. He said he never would. He said they were better off with him out of their lives. He thought there was still hope for them. He’d been beating those kids since they were toddlers. I heard they’re both in prison now, is that true?” he asked looking at Charles.

  “That’s true. What about you? Your dad left town right after that.”

  “Yeah, after the kids were gone and the investigation was over. Until then, we stayed in a motel in town. He didn’t want to go back in the house. But he didn’t drink, even then.”

  “Did you go with him when he left town?” Charles asked.

  “Sure. He took me along. We drove south. I asked him where we were going, and he said he didn’t know.”

  “Were you worried?”

  “Not much. He wasn’t drinking, and when we stopped for the night, he found a meeting, sometimes two. He started making more sense than he had in years, talking about getting a job in Louisiana and starting over.”

  “Why Louisiana?” Charles asked.

  “He knew a guy down there. Turned out the guy was a preacher, which freaked me out.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We’d never set foot in a church. But this guy Pastor Tom hugged my dad, and they cried together. I’ve got to say that really freaked me out. My dad crying? Anyway, we stayed with Pastor Tom and his family. We even started attending his church. Things were better for me and my dad.”

  “How long did you stay with Pastor Tom?”

  “About three, maybe four months. I’m not sure. Dad got me into school, and we got an apartment in Tom’s neighborhood. Dad got a job at this refrigeration place. I think Pastor Tom set it up. I saw Dad’s boss in the congregation a few times. It was a trainee job and didn’t pay much, but we got along okay. I was able to get odd jobs at a local store after school. He got promoted several times and by the time I graduated he was a technician and making decent money. He started looking at houses. Oh, I forgot to mention Angela.”

  “His second wife?”

  “Yeah, he met her the year I graduated, and they got married a few years later. I don’t know if she knew anything about his past. He was a different guy by then. Anyway, I went off to school in Texas and didn’t get back home much. I don’t know, I just sort of wanted him to have this new life without reminders of the past. We sent texts and called, and they drove down to Texas a couple of times to see me. I’m just so proud of my dad.”

  “And this is what you meant when you said Clarissa’s death was the best thing that ever happened to your family?”

  “You bet.”

  Charles avoided Lt. Stokely’s eyes, thinking that they were probably both wondering the same thing. Did Jackson kill his stepmother? Charles’ gut feeling was that he had not, but he knew not to trust those feelings completely.

  “Would you like anything before we go on?” Charles asked. “Coffee? A coke?”

  “Something cold would be good. Thanks”. Charles started to stand, but Lt. Stokely was already up and said he’d take care of it.

  Once Stokely returned with their drinks, Charles said, “Tell me about the day she died.”

  Jackson sighed deeply rubbing his forehead. “It’s hard to go there.”

  “I know, son. Just do the best you can. Tell us what you remember.”

  “First of all, you didn’t know Clarissa. She was a doper, and I mean the hard stuff. Her body was covered with needle tracks. And she was always drunk or passed out. She didn’t take care of the boys.”

  “Who did?”

  “I did mostly.”

  Jackson again sat quietly, appearing to be debating whether to tell them something.”

  “Go on, son. It’s been over thirty years. You don’t have to keep her secrets any longer.”

  “She fooled around on dad all the time.”

  “Did he know it?”

  “I guess so. Yeah,” he added dropping his eyes. “That’s what most of the fights were about. But toward the end, there was this one guy that she was sweet on. I would see them together out back sometimes, and she seemed almost happy. He could make her laugh. It was the only time she laughed, just when she was with him.”

  “Do you know his name?” Lt. Stokely asked.

  “Doug something. I don’t guess I ever heard his last name. If I did, I don’t remember it. She talked about him to me, but I never spent any time around him. They always left the house.”

  “How long did this continue?” Charles asked.

  “About six months, I guess. Maybe more. She told me she was going away with him someday, and she asked me to look out for the boys once she was gone. She went on about that for a long time, and I was really hoping she would leave. I thought things would be better.”

  “Was she still seeing this guy up until she died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go back to that day. What’s the first thing you remember about the day she died?”

  “That afternoon when I came home, she was throwing stuff in a bag. She was very high on drugs and excited. She kept saying, ‘This is it. He’s coming for me tonight.’ Anyway, she dragged her bag out by the old barn and sat out there until long after midnight.”

  “Where was your dad?” Charles asked.

  “Dad never got home before two or three when the bars closed. Sometimes he never showed up at all. Anyway, every time I looked out back, she was sitting, waiting. The guy never came. Finally, I went out and told her I’d help her get her stuff back in the house. She’d been drinking and drugging out there. I didn’t realize it until I went out.

  “She couldn’t even walk in. She was groggy and disoriented and said she was sick. I helped her into the bathroom and closed the door. She was wailing and out of her head. I was afraid dad would get home. I put her suitcase under the bed so he wouldn’t see it and went in to make coffee for her, not that it would have helped any. I don’t know what she was taking, but I heard all this retching and then it got quiet.

  “I knocked, but she didn’t answer so I opened the door. She was laying on the floor unconscious. I figured she’d sleep it off, but something made me check her pulse, and it was very slow. I called for an ambulance, but she was dead by the time they arrived.” Tears were running down his cheeks, but he seemed unaware and made no attempt to wipe them away.

  “Do you think she took her life intentionally?”

  “They said it was an accidental overdose. I’ll never know. I think she was just finished.”

  “Finished?”

  “Yeah. That’s the only word I can think of to describe it. I think she’d just had all she could take of life. She was just through. Finished.”

  Charles remained quiet, allowing time for Jackson to process his feelings. Finally, Jackson wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and without looking up, said, “Bad as it was, she was the closest thing to a mother I ever had. I loved her. Underneath she was a good person. It was just the drugs and the beatings, and the hopelessness.”

  The three men continued to sit quietly for a while. Finally, Charles stood and thanked Jackson for coming in. “I know this has been hard for you and we appreciate your willingness to share this with us.”

  “Yes,” Lt. Stokely added. “Thank you for coming in.”

  The men shook hands, and Charles walked Jackson out of the room. “By the way, how’s your father doing?” Charles asked as they were walking. “I know he must have been devastated by his second wife’s death.”

  “He was, but I’m so proud of my dad. He hasn’t touched a drop now in over thirty years. He’s a deacon in Pastor Tom’s church. I went to stay with him through the funeral and stayed on for a couple of months. Then he had that hearing to go through even though there was no reason to suspect him. She died in a car accident, and he wasn’t even with her. He loved her mor
e than life.”

  “Again, thank you for coming in,” Charles said when they reached the lobby.

  Charles walked back to the interrogation room and found Lt. Stokely still sitting there.

  “So?” Charles asked.

  “My gut tells me that man had nothing to do with his stepmother’s death.”

  “My gut agrees, and I also think the investigating officer back then got it right. It was probably accidental, but I doubt that the woman cared one way or the other whether she lived through it.”

  “Let’s file this away,” Matt said as he stood. “But thank you for pushing the department to take a second look. Sometimes it’s good for all of us to be reminded that there are far more victims involved than just the one that’s dead.”

  “And that the repercussions can go decades into the future,” Charles responded.

  * * *

  “So what are we going to tell Maud?” Sarah asked once Charles filled her in on the details of the interview.

  “I don’t know. She’s not going to believe what Jackson told us,” Charles replied.

  “I know,” Sarah responded, looking downhearted. “She’s held onto her fantasies about Clarissa for all these years, never admitting who she really was, not even to herself.”

  “Perhaps we should just let it drop. There’s certainly nothing to tell her that will make her feel any better. Let’s thank her for all her help, and hope that she can move on to a better place.”

  “I agree.” Sarah reached down and scratched Barney’s ears. He had been leaning against her leg, realizing that his person was distressed. “So, has Jamal been cleared?”

  “Yes. They found several people willing to waive their anonymity and verify that Jamal was at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the time of Angela’s accident. As it turned out, they had nothing to go on anyway. It turned out there was a mechanical reason for the brakes to fail. That entire investigation was a waste of time.”

  “But our trip wasn’t a waste of time,” Sarah said smiling. “It was a terrific use of time.”

  “You bet it was!”