Blood Relations

by Michelle McGriff

  “Homicide?” he asked, hoping to hide the instant unnerving in his voice. “Certainly, let them in.”

  The door opened and homicide detectives Lawrence Miller and Jim Beem walked in and introduced themselves. Jim, a shorter white man with thick blond hair and surfer boy tan began to immediately roam around looking at pictures on his wall. He kept his hands in his pockets. That fact struck Hap as odd. “Hello?” Hap asked nervously.

  “Hello, Dr. Washburn, this is just a routine visit. It’s common when there’s been a unclassified death. Now, you knew Ms. Craven Michaels, correct?”

  Hap audibly sighed relief. What a fool. Here he was thinking that these police officers were here about murder. No one was even thinking about murder and besides no one would be able to trace Craven’s death back to him, not unless they had reason to suspect him. Allen Roman? Maybe he put on one of his many faces and spilled the beans. Hap instantly grew nervous again. “Unclassifed?” he asked.

  No. Roman wouldn’t say anything. He himself was supposed to be dead. Why would he come from the dead just to betray and ruin everything they had planned? Why would he tell? He was down to only one surgeon now for this project. Roman wouldn’t betray him, not now that Craven was dead. Roman had no choice but to work with him, right? But then ... who was that guy last night? “Yes, of course. I’m the one who called and reported her murder—I mean, death,” Hap stumbled.

  “So you suspect murder?” Lawrence asked, refusing to disregard the slip of the tongue.

  “No noooo, but you’re homicide, I mean, you must suspect something.”

  “No, actually. This is routine. As we said, her death hasn’t been classified. Hey, why don’t you have any pictures of her up on your wall? She had plenty pictures up of the two of you,” Jim stated, still not taking his hands out of his pockets. “After the break-in, we decided we needed to look around so we got a search warrant ... it’s procedure.” Hap didn’t believe that, not at all. They suspected something. Hap was getting really nervous now.

  “I don’t know, maybe it’s a girl thing.” Hap chuckled.

  “Hmm, yeah,” Jim said, nodding.

  “Had she ever complained of chest pains since you two were in a relationship? Were you aware of any medical problems she was having?”

  “No and none, but as you know heart disease is a number one secret killer of women these days,” Hap said, sounding as if quoting directly from a manual.

  “Uhhuh,” Lawrence mumbled. Hap was starting to sweat. He wanted these men to leave.

  “Do you know Allen Roman?” Jim asked abruptly. Hap’s stomach flipped.

  “I’ve heard of him. Wasn’t he a prominent scientist who apparently got too full of himself and started performing some illegal experiments and got himself deported and then died?”

  “You seem know a lot about him,” Jim noticed.

  “Everybody in the scientific medical community knows about Allen Roman,” Hap said, hoping his admiration didn’t overshadow his pretense at ignorance. Just then the phone rang. It was Roman. Timing couldn’t be worse. He let the phone ring twice.

  “You gonna get that?” Lawrence asked.

  “Umm ... sure,” Hap said, nervously answering his private line. “Helllllooooo,” he called into the phone.

  “You sound chipper,” Roman said.

  “Well, I have company,” Hap said, looking at Jim and Lawrence and smiling. He held up his finger and then turned his back to them as if that would grant him privacy.

  “Who?”

  “The police.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Nothing ... they are just following up on dear Craven.”

  “Oh, dear Craven, the woman you killed.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that too often,” Hap said, glancing over his shoulder at Jim and Lawrence, who seemed again to be busying themselves with the décor.

  “Whatever. Get rid of them and call me back. I have a problem I need you to see if you can take care of for me.”

  “I’m already working on one of your problems so I doubt it,” he said, hanging up the phone. “Now, Detectives, is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “What’s this big project you and Craven were working on? She told Ovan Dominguez that she was working on this big secret project?”

  “Ovan Dominguez?”

  “You know him. You stabbed him in Craven’s home last night.”

  “Stabbed?” Hap’s chest was on fire.

  “You know, with the knockout juice?” Jim said, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. “You always walk around with one of these in your pocket?” Ovan had described the needle and it didn’t take much for Jim to find one that could possibly resemble it. “Is this what you and Roman use to—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But that man was in my girlfriend’s house trying to steal something. I don’t what, but I’m sure it was a robbery. Craven has lots of nice things. I defended myself the best way I knew how.”

  “You always carry a tranquilizer with you?” Jim asked again.

  “No. That was a coincidence. I had been at the lab. He scared me and I just used what I had. I thought he was going to kill me.”

  “He was unarmed and said he was asking you about Allen Roman.”

  “Well, he’s a liar ... and that’s all I have time to talk to you.” Hap rushed over to the door. “I think if you have more questions you can contact my attorney.”

  The men meandered out. Lawrence then noticed the one photo of Hap and Craven hanging by the door. “Nice cabin,” he said, pointing at the two of them. “You two look real cozy.”

  “That was our love nest. It’s just outside Klamath in Oregon. Beautiful place,” Hap rambled for a moment.

  “Looks lovely, and ya know, I saw this very same picture at Craven’s house. It was right in front of an open, empty, safe.”

  “Empty?” Hap’s heart dropped—had he forgotten to shut it? “Look, I’ve just suffered a great loss so you two need to know that your visit today was heartless,” Hap said, shutting the door behind them. Quickly he snatched the picture of him and Craven off the wall. “Ovan Dominguez, huh ...” Hap said, immediately imagining Craven sexing him too.

  “You want this case to turn into murder just as bad as I do,” Jim said, holding off his full grin while he and Lawrence climbed back into their sedan. Lawrence said nothing. He just frowned up his lip and furrowed his brow.

  “What? So that little twerp can get his chase on?”

  “You’re just jealous. When you found out who he was, you got stone jealous!” Jim poked.

  “No, I didn’t. I’m a legitimate cop and I like that about me. I’m legit.”

  “As opposed to setting your own standards, running the close line between good and evil, catching the bad guys on your own terms,” Jim went on, glorifying Ovan’s profession.

  He and Lawrence and spent the better part of the night hunting down Maravel Friggins. She seemed an easier mark than Ovan Dominguez. She popped up after only two clicks into the back door of the Interpol associate’s sub-list. After a little technical dancing around, she came up as one of those working within the ten supporting coroner’s offices for Her Majesty’s Coroner in Sutton. She’d done a little moving around after leaving there, eventually hooking up with Ovan . . . and finding out any more about that guy stopped there. That bothered Lawrence a lot, but Jim seemed okay with Ovan at least associating with legitimate people. It at least gave him a sense of legitimacy.

  “Well, okay, I’ll say this much, I’ll watch this Hap guy when I have a minute or two, but I’m not crossing any lines until we get some kind of something that he’s doing something illegal,” Lawrence conceded.

  “Deal. But frankly, Hap walks, talks, and smells like a killer.”

  “Yeah. He does.” Lawrence hated to admit it, but Hap acted as guilty as sin. Guilty of what, who knew. All they could do—legally—was wait.

  Chapter 26

  It was Friday morning; Ras
hawn was planning to board a plane that afternoon on her way to Phoenix, Arizona. Her thoughts about leaving had been marred by all the drama and bad feelings she was leaving behind in her house. She was stressed to the maximum, and so not leaving was not an option. She knew that. Rashawn wondered if Chance was even still in the house, or maybe he had dressed and left extraordinarily early just to avoid her. Maybe he had gone over to Juanita’s to find comfort. “What am I thinking?” she asked herself, slapping her forehead. Rainey was snoring lightly. It was Friday, a day before Rainey would start a two week vacation. Rashawn wondered what she had planned. “Probably reading; what all good girls do,” she whispered, smiling at her beautiful daughter. Rainey was nothing like she was at her age. Maybe it was because she had so many sisters—who knew—but there always just seemed to be so much devilment to get into. Sure, Rainey was only twelve, but at twelve Rashawn already had sisters sixteen and seventeen years old. There was already talk of boys in the house and so much more. It would be a long time before Rashawn would dabble into heavy badness, but still it was all around her. Rainey was innocent; sweet and pure. Of this Rashawn was sure. Reaching over, she stroked her daughter’s thick hair and smoothed her brow. No, Rainey didn’t have a bad bone in her body—unlike Reggie, who couldn’t help but be difficult. It’s in his genes ... it’s got to be in his blood, Rashawn thought, standing, stretching.

  Chapter 27

  Breakfast was tense and quiet. It had been a long night. There would be no talk about Reggie’s college plans, as Rashawn didn’t want to hear about it anymore, and by her overt silence she had made that fact known. She didn’t care what they were deciding to do—frankly. What was the worst that could happen anyway with Reggie going to look over a college in Oregon with Chance, Rainey, and Junior? She stirred the batter for the hotcakes. She wasn’t planning on going into the office today. She decided just to concentrate on leaving town. She figured she could simply e-mail Renee with what she needed done, from the airport.

  Reggie and Junior came slowly from the room. They looked none too worn for the wear, considering the night before. Surely Reggie argued with Junior for opening his mouth about the college weekend. Reggie had been thoroughly upset at the thought of taking Junior along. But ohhhhhh well! Rashawn thought, but didn’t say. “Good morning,” she said instead.

  “Good morning,” Junior answered, but not Reggie. He just grunted and sat down at the table. Just then Rashawn thought about Juanita. She would have to call her today to make sure it was okay for Junior to go to Oregon. I put her out of the equation when in fact—Junior is her son. And probably her son only! Rashawn thought, again shaking her head at the negative pondering. Yes, this weekend was sorely needed. She needed to get her head back in a peaceful place. Maybe that was why she had been dreaming of Allen Roman. She had no peace of mind. All of the negativity was distancing her from her family and those who loved her. Even her sisters who still lived around her were noticing. Something was off and she hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Again she thought about Allen Roman and how “off” he had made her life back when he was drugging her. Each day she got more and more clouded in her thinking, until soon her reasoning was completely gone and only a weak shell of a woman had taken over her life. But not this time! I’ll fight these people, she mumbled under her breath, speaking about her family—her children, her husband, while noticing Chance slowly headed toward the kitchen. He was dressed for class. Sharp and handsome. But she was trying her best to shine him on. She wasn’t going crazy again. Nobody was going to control her mind again. Reggie was trying and maybe Chance too. But they weren’t going to get away with it.

  “I hope everyone is hungry,” Rashawn said, sitting the large platter of hotcakes on the table. Reggie and Junior looked up from where they sat. Their eyes were wide and innocent looking—too innocent looking.

  “What are your plans today, Reggie?” she asked.

  “I have no plans. I have no life!” he answered dramatically.

  “Good,” she answered, turning to Junior. “And you.”

  “Me? Oh, I’m just gonna enjoy this beautiful feast with my family,” he answered in his normal quirky way, stabbing at the hotcakes and stacking them on his plate. Chance Sr. cleared his throat after watching him put six on his plate.

  “And you, husband of mine?” Rashawn asked, hoping that Chance would open up—maybe even speak his heart over the scrambled eggs and fresh coffee. She needed to know what he was feeling. Had he truly stopped loving her, as Reggie had implied? Stop it, Rashawn, Reggie didn’t imply that. He implied that Chance thinks you’re selfish and distant. And well, maybe you are, she pondered while pouring his coffee.

  “You don’t have to pretend you’re not mad at me,” Chance whispered.

  “I’m not mad at you,” Rashawn lied.

  “Sure you are,” Chance said, still keeping his voice low.

  “I told Reggie that you would take him, Rainey, and Junior to Oregon while I was gone.”

  “What? I’m not going to Oregon! How could you just make plans for me like that?” Chance blurted.

  “Then I guess they aren’t either.”

  “What?” Reggie yelped.

  “You all can find something fun to do here, until I get back. Then we’ll all fly up there together,” Rashawn said calmly, hoisting up the big bowl of grits so that Rainey could serve herself.

  “That’s so flippin’ wrong, Mom! This sucks rocks!” Reggie yelled out, slamming down his fork.

  “Heyyy, you need watch yourself there, Reg,” Chance intercepted.

  “No, I don’t have to watch anything. This is foul. My life isn’t for you two to play paddle ball with.”

  “Look, don’t get beside ya self son!” Chance spoke with firmness and a command for respect. But Reggie wasn’t listening.

  “I’m not your son!” Reggie said, jumping up from his seat.

  “You’re my son just as much as Junior is and Rainey is my daughter and what I say goes around here young man!” Chance stood now too.

  “Chance, what are you doing?” Rashawn exclaimed. This was getting out of hand. What had she started?

  “I’ve had it! One minute you want me to be a father, and when I’m doing it, you’re asking me what I’m doing. Make up your damn mind! Am I Reggie’s father or not?”

  Rashawn shook her head vehemently. “Are you having some kind of episode?”

  Junior quickly grabbed three biscuits and some bacon. “Better get some food to go,” he told Rainey, sounding goofy.

  “Put that down! You’re not going anywhere!” Rashawn yelled.

  “Get what you want, we’re getting outta here,” Chance said.

  “No, you’re not. Nobody is leaving this house!”

  “So I guess I’m not a father to this son anymore either!”

  The front door slammed in Reggie’s wake. Chance called out to him but it was too late.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Rainey cried out, covering her face and giving way to loud wailing.

  Rashawn immediately ran to Rainey’s side. “See what you’ve done!”

  “Junior, get your stuff, I’m taking you home. You’re not going to school today.” Chance’s voice was monotone and filled with anger. His face was reddened. Rashawn had never seen him this upset before.

  “Man, this is some serious drama jumping off this morning, huh?” Junior mumbled, chewing steadily on a slice of bacon, while Chance stood staring at him sternly.

  Suddenly, as if a new reason to be angry crossed his mind, he snapped his finger at Rainey. “Get your stuff, you’re getting dropped off ... now!” he yelled. Rainey pulled away from her mother, grabbed her backpack, and quickly followed her brother and father out the door to the car.

  “Chance,” Rashawn called after rushing behind them to the door.

  “Go on your vacation, Rashawn. We’ll get all this fixed when you get back,” he said without looking at her, climbing into the car without saying good-bye. Her heart weighed a ton. How did eve
rything get broken? And how did it all become her fault?

  Chapter 28

  Just then there was a knock at the door. Thinking it might have been Chance, Juanita scurried to the door, fluffing her wild hair and hoisting up her “not as firm as they once were” breasts. Chance had sounded really upset when he called and so she wanted to be there to comfort him. Junior had told her that Rashawn was stressed out and leaving on vacation today, and so maybe there had been trouble between the lovely couple. “Coming,” she sang. Just then, through the stained glass she saw him, handsome in his black turtleneck sweater and grey leather jacket with matching pants. Immediately the juices began to flow and Chance flew out of her mind as she swung open the door. His eyes covered her. “Mr. Dominguez?” She was trying to keep surprise in her voice, although she was hardly surprised. In her mind, she and Mr. Dominguez were truly destined to meet again.

  Juanita could spot a freak a mile away and Mr. Dominguez had addict written all over him. When she was diagnosed as a sex addict ten years ago, it hurt ... it really hurt. That is, until she found so many others like her in her therapy group. Relapses had never been so fun. Closets, backseats of cars, secret meetings ... any and everywhere they could meet for sex, she and a couple of her group members would do it. She’d even learned a new thing or two during that time. When they were all pronounced rehabilitated they gave a party—an orgy of sorts, complete with togas and baked chicken that they ripped apart with their hands.

  Chance was an addict too—although he refused to get therapy or admit it. When he and Rashawn first got married, it was a fight to the finish every time he came over to see the baby. Although he was probably wasn’t nearly as sick as she had been back then, she could see the weakness in his eyes when he looked at her—even after all this time there was still a weakness, but suddenly, right at this moment, she only could pray he wasn’t on his way over for a setback session.

  “Ooooh come innnn,” she purred, throwing the door open wide. Just her memories of her past sex life had set her libido in action. Ovan smelled good. Looked good ... He was sex incarnate.