The Ghost of Blue Ivy

by Parker Paige

  With her hands clasped together, she lifted her head and prayed.

  Dear God. I am in dire need of your help. I’m terrified of what I have done, and I need your forgiveness. Please forgive me for all the wrong I have done and the wrong that I have inflicted onto others and accept me into your family.

  Blue Ivy finished her prayer and eased up from the floor, and miraculously, she intuitively knew what to do. It was time to talk to the police.

  She couldn’t postpone it any longer. Otherwise, they would come for her. No longer could she wait at home like this, hoping it would all go away. A man had been murdered, and things like that didn’t conveniently go away.

  A minute later, Blue Ivy stood in the bathroom mirror. She was about to blow dry her hair when she heard several sharp knocks at her door. It was an authoritative knock, the kind that demanded attention. It was the police, no doubt. In a halted position, her heart pounded a million beats a minute. She froze, literally froze. Since Lee was so magnificent at reaching her apartment without calling up first, her first thought was that it could have been him. But she knew better. Lee would never knock like that.

  She hoped and wished that whoever it was at the door would go away, but her wishing would do her no good. She had finally made the decision to stop hiding and talk to the police, something she should have done sooner, but it was too late. They were now at her front door, certain to be even more suspicious of her than they may have been otherwise. Needless to say, her decision to talk to the police came an hour too late.

  Episode 15

  THE DISTURBING KNOCKS AT HER front door emanated throughout her apartment.

  She entertained the idea of not answering in the hopes that maybe they would go away, but soon realized it was a fantasy that would never make its way into reality. It was a temporary solution that probably wouldn’t work anyway.

  Blue Ivy stood immobilized in front of the bathroom mirror. Not wanting the police to know that she had recently colored her hair, she grabbed a towel from the shower rod and wrapped it around her damp hair. Towards the front door, she headed, her towel neatly wrapped around her head like a turban. Suddenly, she remembered the hair color box on her basin and made a quick U-turn back to the bathroom, and pulled the door shut.

  The authoritative knocks at her door continued before she could answer. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Detective Uhler, Chicago Police.”

  This was it, the moment she dreaded in all of its woe.

  Upon opening the door, she saw before her two detectives who she recognized from her office.

  Detective Uhler flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Uhler, and this is my partner, Detective Lane. We’re with the Chicago Police Department. Are you Blue Ivy Rose?”

  “I am.”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Almost neutralized, Blue Ivy stood at the door, her eyes fastened on Detective Uhler. She felt the perspiration about to ooze down her forehead and wasn’t sure whether to invite them in or just run.

  “May we come in?” Detective Lane asked.

  “Sure,” Blue Ivy said, as she stepped aside so that they could enter.

  After she closed the door, she waited for the detectives to check out her cluttered apartment. New clothes with the price tag still attached lay everywhere along with empty shopping bags, shoeboxes and numerous wine glasses.

  Detective Lane turned to her, removing his hands from his coat pockets. “Are you alone, Ms. Rose?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Yes.”

  Detective Uhler stepped over to the mantel where she kept her family portrait and framed obituaries, now placed face down. With his hand on one of the framed obituaries, Detective Uhler turned to Blue Ivy.

  “May I?”

  “Sure.”

  Detective Uhler turned over one framed obituary, then the other one, and finally the last one. He returned them to their face down position, all the while standing perfectly still. The detectives stood there, as if waiting to be asked to sit down.

  Blue Ivy finally caught on. “You can sit down.”

  “Thank you,” Detective Uhler said.

  In a swift move, Blue Ivy moved the clothes from the sofa and adjacent chair. She stacked them neatly in the corner of the sofa, and then eased down in the chair.

  While Detective Uhler sat on the chair across from the sofa, Detective Lane stood at a distance, as if observing, like a night watchman. Detective Uhler collected his tiny note pad from his pocket while Blue Ivy casually wiped the sweat from her forehead. She hoped not to draw attention to herself or worse yet, reveal just how frightened she really was.

  “Are you aware that Bruce Colby was murdered last night?” Detective Uhler asked.

  Regret gnawed at her as she wished she never met Bruce Colby, and most of all, that she never did the things that she did to him. “I heard about it,” she said.

  “How did you hear about it?” Detective Lane asked.

  “A coworker told me.”

  Detective Lane stepped closer to the sofa. “What coworker is that?”

  She was slow to speak, wanting to be as vague as possible for as long as possible. It was important that she not incriminate Laura in anyway, and there was only one other name that came to mind.

  “A secretary at the office,” Blue Ivy said.

  “Does this secretary have a name?” Detective Uhler asked.

  “Camina. Camina Givens.”

  “Is she a friend?” Detective Uhler asked.

  “You can say that.”

  Detective Lane coughed as if he didn’t believe her, then continued. “Why did you come back home this morning after you arrived at work?”

  “Who told you that?” she asked very calmly.

  Detective Lane inched closer to Blue Ivy. “Maybe your friend Camina told us.”

  A faint smile tried to make its way on Blue Ivy’s face, but she stopped it in time.

  “Do you have an answer to our question?” Detective Uhler asked.

  She wondered how she could answer that question without incriminating herself. Then her true instincts kicked in. She would lie. “I forgot something so I came back home to get it.”

  “And what was that?” Detective Lane asked.

  “What did I come back for?” she asked, trying to come up with a quick lie to his question.

  Detective Uhler didn’t repeat his question; instead he just waited for her to answer.

  “Female things,” she said.

  Detective Uhler smiled whilst Detective Lane unzipped his leather jacket. “So you came home, showered, washed your hair and put on your bathrobe?”

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. What he described was exactly what happened.

  “You can’t answer that can you?” Detective Lane questioned.

  The perspiration crawled down her forehead, and she could not have been more afraid if she were in a room alone with Charles Manson, himself.

  Detective Uhler drew his handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses. After a long drawn out silence, he asked, “Ms. Rose, would you mind removing the towel from your head?”

  Blue Ivy’s eyes lit up in fear. “Why?” She tried to come up with an excuse for why she couldn’t remove the towel, but nothing came to mind.

  After several moments, Detective Uhler, impatiently said. “Just remove the towel.”

  His insistence frightened her even more. “I just washed my hair, and I’m susceptible to colds.” After she heard what she said, she wanted to kick herself for such a lame excuse, but she needed to say something. “What if I refuse?”

  “Ms. Rose,” Detective Lane said, before Detective Uhler cut him off. “Is there something you don’t want us to see?”

  Blue Ivy touched her towel to make sure it was firmly in place and tight on her head. “No, it’s not that. I would just rather not.”

  “Is your hair red?” Detective Lane asked.

  “It’s not naturally red. I colore
d it red recently.”

  “May we see it?” Detective Uhler asked.

  Blue Ivy didn’t answer.

  Detective Uhler closed his note pad. “Listen, Ms. Rose. Bruce Colby was murdered last night and we have good reason to believe it was a redheaded woman. We have already questioned the two other redheads at your office who both fit the description of the woman seen coming from the men’s room. Now, it wouldn’t be smart to question a third person without ever seeing the color of his or her hair. That’s one of the main reasons we’re here.”

  No longer could she avoid the inevitable. She reached for the towel, about to undo it, when the phone on the kitchen counter rang. It startled her so much she almost jumped from her seat.

  It could not have come at a more opportune moment, a moment to separate herself from them and their antagonizing questions and requests. Blue Ivy glanced over at the phone and stood up. “Excuse me,” she said, before she made her way into the kitchen and picked up the phone. She kept an eye out for the detectives as it would only be a matter of seconds before one or both of them would rear their nosy bodies in after her.

  “Hey, Sunshine,” Lee said. “I called your job. They said you didn’t come in today. What’s going on?”

  Her first response was to say the word everything, but instead she wore a false front and avoided his question. “Hi, Lee.” Just as Blue Ivy feared, as soon as Blue Ivy greeted Lee, Detective Uhler came into the kitchen and stared at her. She moved the phone away from her mouth and covered it with her hand.

  “I’ll be off in a minute,” she said to Detective Uhler.

  “Take your time,” Detective Uhler said.

  “Who was that?” Lee asked.

  “Lee, I can’t talk right now, but I’ll call you back.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  As soon as Blue Ivy abruptly ended the call, she noticed Detective Uhler, observing the overflowing empty wine bottles in the garbage. With all the idle time she spent at home that morning, she never once bothered to take out the garbage, and it was too late now.

  “Do you drink, Ms. Rose?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Sometimes was definitely an understatement, and she could tell by the expression on his face that he knew it.

  Out of nowhere, Detective Lane hurled into the kitchen. “I think there’s something in here you should see,” he said to Detective Uhler.

  Blue Ivy’s heart pounded so fast she worried it would just stop, which would have suited her just fine. But she was not that lucky. She tried her best to stay positive. She inhaled a deep breath, hoping they would return to the kitchen and thank her for her time, but she would have to be a moron if she believed that was ever going to happen, not in this lifetime or any lifetime to come.

  Less than thirty seconds passed before Detectives Uhler and Lane returned to the kitchen. They wore stern looks on their faces as if they had just seen a ghost, a telltale sign that it was not good. No one said a word, especially not her as the part of her brain for speech failed to function due to fear. Detective Lane eased his hands into his pockets, while Detective Uhler stepped towards her. “Did you color your hair this morning?”

  Instead of answering his question, Blue Ivy swallowed hard, hoping that Detective Lane might answer for her. How could she have been stupid enough to color her hair back and draw this insurmountable attention to herself?

  “Ms. Rose?” Detective Uhler said.

  “Huh?”

  “Did you color your hair this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you remove the towel from your head?” Detective Lane asked.

  Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, Blue Ivy removed the towel from her head and her damp brown hair fell to her shoulders. Only two seconds elapsed before Detective Uhler responded. “We’d like for you to get dressed and come with us.”

  Could this really be happening to her, or was she dreaming? Right about now those graves at St. Lucas Cemetery were looking pretty appealing.

  “Why? I answered your questions.”

  “Please, get dressed and come with us.”

  Panic and fear oozed from every inch of her being as she stepped back, wanting to avoid going with them at any cost. “Why do we have leave? Why can’t you just ask me questions here, like you did before?”

  Detective Uhler exhaled a long whispering breath as if to say this debate is over. Finally, she resigned to the fact that she had to go, and there was nothing she could do about it, at least not at that very moment anyway.

  Though she had recently been arrested before for shoplifting, it was different now. She was being arrested for murder, and that was no small pill.

  “Okay. I’ll get dressed,” she said, then proceeded to head out of the kitchen. She then double-backed and faced Detective Uhler. “I don’t suppose I have time to blow dry my hair, do I?”

  The smirk on Detective Uhler’s face said it all, ‘absolutely not.’ She figured there was no harm in asking.

  Less than two minutes passed when Blue Ivy came from her bedroom. She wore jeans and her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. When she grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter, she wondered if they might handcuff her. After picking up her coat form the sofa, she asked, “Are you going to put handcuffs on me.”

  She knew it must have seemed to them like she wanted to be handcuffed, but that wasn’t the case at all. She was just curious.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Detective Uhler said.

  Blue Ivy stood between Detectives Uhler and Lane at the elevator. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t continue their investigation at her apartment. What difference did it really make whether they were at her apartment or somewhere else?

  With sweaty palms and knots in her stomach, Blue Ivy felt a neurosis coming on. She fished for an idea of how to avoid going with them, then it hit her. “I forgot my purse.”

  Detective Uhler didn’t say a word.

  “Is it okay if I get my purse?” she asked them.

  Detective Uhler nodded.

  As she strolled towards her apartment, Detective Lane followed behind her.

  Blue Ivy stood at her door, grabbed her keys from her pocket and fumbled with the lock, pretending to have trouble with the key. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this key.”

  Detective Lane stood firmly behind her. He was no doubt eyeballing her with a careful eye while Blue Ivy continued her fake fuss with the key.

  “What are you doing, Ms. Rose?” Detective Lane questioned.

  “I’m having trouble with this key.”

  As soon as she finished her last sentence, the ding of the elevator was just the moment she needed to make a run for it. She lunged down the hallway, headed for the staircase, listening to the thumps of Detective Lane trailing behind her. She flung through the stairway door, leaped down two flights of stairs, all the while Detective Lane was fast on her trail. She reached the sixth floor, swung the door open and zipped through. Almost out of breath, she rammed into a young woman who carried two garbage bags, knocking her off her feet.

  Without a moment to catch her breath, Blue Ivy picked herself up fast. “Sorry,” Blue Ivy said to the woman, before she continued down the hall. She managed to gain a tiny distance from Detective Lane, just enough time to make it to the staircase at the opposite end of the hallway.

  As Blue Ivy jetted through the door, the perspiration drizzled from her forehead, but she didn’t look back. She mounted a flight of stairs, opened the door to the seventh floor and rushed through, not knowing how much longer she could continue to run. She sprinted into the garbage chute and pulled the door shut behind her.

  She stood completely still. As she wiped the sweat from her forehead, she tried desperately not to let a breath escape from her mouth. She failed to think through her impulsive plan to run and she didn’t have a clue as to what she might do next.

  A minute passed since she stored h
erself in the garbage chute, and a tinge of hope leapt into her heart as she moved her ear to the door.

  Maybe she lost them.

  For the first time, her heart slowed down to a more normal beat. With her ear to the door, she only heard silence, but she was afraid to move.

  Maybe it was a trick.

  Maybe they were just waiting for her to make a move. Then it dawned on her that if they knew where she was, surely they would have come for her by now. It wasn’t like they were afraid of her.

  Who would have thought her journey of adventure would have taken her to a place like this?

  Hiding out in the garbage chute. Immobilized, she listened to the sound of her breath. With nothing to look at but the wall in front of her, she would wait a little longer before she opened the door. After several minutes, she put her ear against the door and heard nothing. She then placed her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it. As soon as the door opened, the sight of Detective Lane was staggering as he stood with his gun drawn on her. She inhaled a deep breath, and her instincts caused her to pull the door shut. Without a moment in between, Detective Uhler swung the door open and yanked her out by the collar.

  Blue Ivy’s eyes bulged and her face was flushed as Detective Uhler’s eyes met with hers. “Now, about those handcuffs,” he said to her.

  Detective Lane slapped the handcuffs on her fast, which pinched her wrists. Luckily, she was handcuffed from the front, in lieu of behind her back. It wasn’t until the handcuffs were completely fastened on her wrists that she understood just how guilty her actions made her look as she behaved like a fugitive. If ever there was a time to dial down the craziness, now was the time.

  When would she learn to handle things in stride without always acting out? This was a lesson that came a little too late. When God was handing out brains, she failed to get in line.

  When they reached the police station on Addison and Halsted, Blue Ivy wondered if they would escort her to lockup, but, lucky for her, they didn’t. Instead, they escorted her into a room for further questioning.

  In the small antiseptic room with dim lights, she sat across the table from Detectives Uhler and Lane. She was still handcuffed and her hair was still wet. Blue Ivy sat quietly, praying that she would not be charged with the murder of Bruce Colby. Even still, with each silent moment that passed, her spirit turned a darker shade of blue, waiting and anticipating the worst.