by Ronnie Allen
“No. I didn’t ask,” John said.
“The senior Reynolds fucking donated $200,000,” Carlson said. “Mid-February. But Morgan donated twice that. And bought her a fucking new car.”
John stared at the wall, deep in thought. “Okay, so our perp isn’t him. Why would he donate so much money if he wanted her to crack up?”
“What do you have in your head you’re not telling us yet?” Tony demanded.
“I have a lot, Tony, believe me, a lot but it’s in chunks. Doesn’t make sense yet. First, we’re underestimating her. If she accepted that much from Reynolds, she’s not that altruistic like the newspaper made her out to be. What does she know about Reynolds that we don’t know?”
Carlson tapped on the table, looking out the window.
That registered with John. “All right, I gave Mrs. Bennett a call. She said I could come over. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Two hour call in time,” Carlson said.
“Yeah.” John left with a lot more on his mind then the call in time.
***
John and Mrs. Bennett relaxed on the couch in the living room of her modest one-family home in Marine Park, Brooklyn. She served him some much-needed coffee and a piece of homemade pound cake topped with warm compote.
“Thank you for meeting me on a Friday evening, “Mrs. Bennett.” John equated her to a matronly school marm in Little House on the Prairie with her salt and pepper hair up in a bun. He smiled at the recollection of his favorite series as a child.
“It’s my pleasure, Dr. Trenton. I’d much rather speak to you than those other two detectives. I felt that they were humoring me. It’s the beginning of President’s Day week-long vacation. So I’m available all next week to speak with you again, if you need me.”
He attempted to relax her by laughing. “Thank you. They do that to me sometimes, too. Mind if I record this? It’s easier than taking notes.”
“No. Not at all, please do.”
John positioned a small recorder on the coffee table. “Can you tell me about Barbara? School and uh, socially?”
Mrs. Bennett smiled. “Barbara loves the club scene. Swinging bachelorette.” She rolled her eyes. “She told me she vowed never to get married or have children. What a pity. I wanted to bear a child so badly but I guess it wasn’t in God’s plans.”
She sighed, folding her hands on her lap.
John urged her out of her reflection to put her back on track. “Mrs. Bennett--” He paused. “Know where she goes?”
“Oh, yes, sorry about my digression.”
He smiled warml,y but he needed to get back to business now.
“Upper East Side clubs are her thing. Where the wealthy men hang out. Keeps an apartment in Manhattan so she doesn’t have to commute on the weekend.”
While she talked, John analyzed her words as he played with the stewed fruit on his plate with a fork. “Have an address?”
“Mid-sixties, Sixty-Fourth Street right off Seventh Avenue.”
“Thank you. And where is her clinic?”
“Not far from here, off Nostrand Avenue, and Avenue Y, above a thrift store.”
“Do you know the names of her staff and other counselors?”
“Dr. Trenton, you haven’t spoken to her much have you?”
“What makes you say that, Mrs. Bennett?”
“Barbara is a staff of one. She wants to expand but not yet. Needs to commit to staying put, I think. Where are you getting your facts?”
“That’s why I’m speaking with you, Mrs. Bennett, to straighten me out.”
“That I will do for sure.”
You certainly are doing that, for sure.
“Did she ever mention a Morgan Reynolds to you?”
“Yes. She wrote a grant, applying to publishing houses for donations for an adolescent clinic she was setting up. Actually, that was before she started working with us, this time around. In order to get the funds, she needed to work in the same capacity for a city organization. She was already in education, so that qualified. She reinstated her license and came to work at my school again.”
John had a sudden spark of light. “Reinstated?”
“Yes, she started working in New York City twelve years ago when she first got her license and then moved to Connecticut, and then California. Then came back three years ago.”
“Do you know how long she worked in New York the first time?”
“Yes. One year in my school. About four years, total, now.”
“Help me clarify, please. So she came to New York from LA twelve years ago?”
“California? No, what makes you say that, Dr. Trenton?”
“More misinformation. Go on please.” He didn’t want to reveal too much.
“Barbara is a New York City woman. Born and raised here. That’s the correct information, Dr. Trenton. Went to CCNY for her PhD in school psychology. I went to her induction ceremony, June 2003. It was lovely. Her parents were wonderful people. Both MDs. They were so proud of her. Their only daughter. Adopted at birth. They tried to conceive for many years and then wonderful little Barbara came into their lives. It was a fairy tale family.”
John’s head spun putting it all together. Was that the Barbara he knew? Obviously not.
“It’s so sad what happened. Devastatingly sad.”
“What, Mrs. Bennett?”
“They were both killed instantly a few days after Barbara officially received her license in the mail. At twenty-eight to lose both parents so suddenly. At a turning point in her life. What a traumatic time. A restaurant delivery van went out of control and over a construction divider on Central Park West, right near their apartment building. Blew up right into their Mercedes, taking their car and them down with it. A tragic accident. A gas tank leak on the van made the car explode on impact. Barbara’s been devastated. She misses them so much. What are you thinking about, Dr. Trenton? You look like you’re far away somewhere else.”
“Trust me. I’m here, Mrs. Bennett, and taking in everything. You’ve given me very valuable information. So you’ve known Barbara from before she received her doctorate?”
“Yes. When she was a doctoral candidate. She did a full year internship here and I loved her so much, I requested her when she formerly got her license. I liked her better than the regularly assigned psychologist.”
“What made her better?”
“Her compassion, love for the children, always their advocate, no matter whom she had to fight. It’s so terrible this is happening to her. I can’t imagine anyone who would want to hurt her.”
“Okay. I’m asking you to really think about this because I’m going to ask you to go back all those years.”
“Sure, Dr. Trenton. What is it?”
“Did you ever notice a change in Barbara, be it ever so slight, from before she received her doctorate to after?”
“Um, you know? Yes, yes I did. Several things.”
John straightened up and leaned toward her.
“She seemed stronger, mentally and emotionally. Said it was because she started taking Tae Kwon Do. She said it gave her confidence. She did have to go into bad areas at times, so it’s a good thing she knew how to defend herself.”
“Yes, it is. Anything else?”
“Oh, yes. And I approached her about it. But, for one, she went blonde. From a warm brown to highlighted blonde. But that’s a woman for you. The one thing that did stand out was...”
“What is it, Mrs. Bennett? And this is really important.”
“I noticed a change in her accent, her tone of voice. She lost her New York accent after she got her license. She told me she was taking voice and speech lessons to get rid of it. She said that now that she was a doctor, she had to speak and sound professional, as well. Couldn’t argue with that. She must have practiced endlessly on those speech lessons.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She never once faltered. Not once. How is that possible? If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a
different person.”
You certainly are correct on that.
CHAPTER 31
Three Years Earlier:
John stormed into the interrogation room at the EOC in Lardo, where Rick Dunn supported himself against the wall in a corner. Restraints, wide leather bands with lobster claw clasps, dangled in John’s hands. “You’re being way too easy on him.”
Detective Brian Marin, Vicki’s forty-year old brother, who looked like Mark’s twin, had just met the man who was sleeping with his sister. “Well, he’s about to get deeper in trouble unless he starts telling me what I need to know. And he told me he doesn’t want to lawyer up.”
“Ah don’t need no lawyer. Y’all can’t pit dose on me.”
“If you’re a danger to yourself and others, I most certainly can,” John said. “Maybe he needs to be coerced.”
Brian glanced up at the recorder on the ceiling. John’s gaze followed his. He understood it wouldn’t be protocol to let him intervene. Brian didn’t say a word. A few moments later, a message appeared on his monitor. Let him.
“Ya know what, Doc? You’re right. Maybe I was being too easy on him, and I had enough of his lying. He’s all yours now.”
“Fine with me. Leave me the jacket.”
Brian exited the room, smiling. The challenge was about to begin. For a very high price. Vicki.
“No! Don’t leave me wit ’im!”
“Now sit down or I’ll put these on. And you don’t want to test me.”
As John slammed the restraints down on a metal table, the buckles clanged in an uncomfortable, unsettling, vibrating echo that sent shrills through Rick’s already damaged body. He jumped back, startled, but he sat.
“Ah ain’t tellin’ ya nuttin’, neither.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just hang out here until they’re ready to take you to booking.” John scanned the file. He nodded as he read it. He needed to get Rick’s addresses, present and former, his history with Denise, his drug contacts, drug history, and story of abuse. They also required his cell phone records, real name, any aliases, and any friends or associates. The usual. He was used to the usual.
“Fa what?”
“What you did tonight. You’re going to jail.”
“Jail? Ah don’t wanna go ta jail!” Rick screamed like a baby. He ran his fingers through his grimy matted hair, holding his head in his hands.
“I don’t know anyone who wants to go to jail, but you should have thought about that before.”
“Why? Ah didn’t hurt no body.”
“Excuse me? You had SWAT and CNT at bay with weapons for two hours,” John growled, trying to intimidate him. “You took your son, girlfriend, and her parents hostage. In New York, that’s a felony and I’m sure it is here, too. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it stops now. Got it?”
“Ah took ’em wat?”
“You held them against their will. Know what that means?”
“Yeah,” Rick whined. “Ah only went ta the trailer ta bard the keys ta ours. Denise took ’em wit her. Den some neighbor called da PO-leece ’cause a all the yellin’ an’ screamin’. Ah got no otha place ta live. Ah can’t go back ta my folks like dat hussy.”
“How come?”
“Dey ain’t in Florida.”
“Where are they?”
“Jawjuh.”
“Georgia?”
Rick nodded.
“And you just wanted to borrow the keys?”
“Yeah.”
“How long have you been living in Florida?”
“Since ah been fifteen. Den ah met Denise at the county festival. She was livin’ alone, too, an’ she took me in an’ den she had dat little bastard.”
“Who did you come to Florida with?”
“No one. My pop was always lay’n a hurtin’ on me with that dang hickory stick an’ he said if ah ain’t like it ah should get out an’ ah left an’ never saw ’im again.”
“What’s the address of the trailer park you and Denise live in? Maybe we can get you in.”
“It’s in Park Villa Trailer Park. Unit sixteen. That hussy. She hadda go get pregnant.”
“You stay with her.”
“She gives good pussy. Where she at?”
“She’s with detectives being questioned.”
“She ain’t gonna tell dem nuttin’, either.”
“You’re wrong, Rick. She’s telling them plenty.”
“How’d y’all know?”
“She told me things already.”
“What tings?”
“That’s confidential. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that, but she’s telling them her side. And for us to do what’s right, we need to know your story, too.”
“Ah ain’t tellin’ you nuttin ’bout us.”
This was going nowhere. John switched gears. “Okay. Then tell me about little Ricky. He seems like a good little boy.”
“He’s a pain in da ass. If ah could git rida him, ah would. Denise won’t let me ’cause he’s makin’ us some good dough.
John tossed a look toward the cameras. He had secured information he hoped was not reality. “How’s that?”
Rick hesitated, closed his eyes, and ran his hand over his mouth. “We git money from social service fa his inhalers fa da asthma.”
“But that money doesn’t go for the inhalers, does it?”
“How’d y’all know?”
“Denise, at the hospital, said she couldn’t afford it this month.”
“Ah git what ah need.”
“Like what?”
“Ah ain’t tellin’.”
“Denise said you’re on oxy and coke.”
“Dat bitch! Dat fuckin’ bitch!” Rick stampeded off on a tangent and couldn’t seem to stop. “She is, too! She uses more dan me! Takes the whole lot den when ah go fa a hit, dere ain’t any left. Dat fuckin’ hussy! Wait till ah git hold a her! Ah’ll get Slingger ta tan her hide. Yeah! Dat’s what ah’ll do. Den she’ll be sorry! An’ ah’ll git him ta lay a hurtin’ on Ricky too!”
John’s stomach dropped and he became nauseous. He felt the blood drain from his face. “So Ricky gets beaten by you and Slingger?” It was painful for him to say those words, but he had to clarify for the record.
“Yeah.” Rick sounded proud.
“And Denise allows it?”
“Yeah. She gets off on it.”
“She gets off on seeing Ricky hit?”
Rick nodded.
“Who’s Slingger?”
“A friend.”
“So you let your friend beat your girlfriend and son.”
“Ah ain’t sayin’.”
“You already did. Looks like you’re getting yourself in deep here, so you might as well come clean.”
“What you mean?”
“You’ll be facing more charges unless we can understand what’s going on.”
Rick crashed. “Git me sometin’, man!”
“Not till you tell me what I need to know.”
“Come on. Ah’m hurtin’.”
John was immune to his pleading. “What is Slingger like?” When Rick just blinked at him in confusion, John tapped his own lips with his fist as he thought of what to say. “How would you describe him?”
“Big, tough, lots of tats like me. Rich though. Real rich. He knows people. He’ll git me outta here. Ah’m one a his good customers. He likes doin’ Denise and Ricky. So he’ll git me outta here.”
“So he has sex with Denise?”
“Yeah, an’ she gits paid real good from him an’ he gits us real good product, if ya know what ah mean.”
“Yeah I do. And what about Ricky?”
“We git double fa him.” Rick sounded so proud of getting money.
John closed his eyes for a moment. The nausea returned, double.
Damn! I’ve got to save that little kid.
***
Mark paced impatiently, wanting to put his fist through the wall. He couldn’t imagine anything like that happening to
Amanda.
The sheriff was impressed with John. Maybe he would join their team. There were plenty of young adults in trouble down here with no forensic psychiatrist. Not now, but maybe in the future. Still not sure about him being his son-in-law, though.
***
“Does Slingger get other customers for Denise?” John swallowed hard. “And Ricky?”
“Yeah bot’.”
“You said Slingger will get you out of here?”
“Yeah, dat’s right.”
“We’ll need to call him to post your bail. Have a number?”
“Yeah, 352-555-1737. But he won’t ansa a call from a Yankee.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yeah, he’s smart, too. Real smart. You’ll have ta call ’im from my cell. He knows da number so he’ll pick up.” Rick retrieved his phone from his pocket and handed it to John.
“Thanks. Be right back.” John confidently left the room.
He joined the others, distraught about Ricky.
The sheriff approached him as he handed the cell over to Brian. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not. And I didn’t even need a translator.”
Mark stared at him. And then at his father.
“Your father and I bonded,” John explained. “We already have a private joke.”
Mark shook his head.
“Did Vicki go home?”
“Yes,” the sheriff responded.
“Get me Dr. Ali on the phone,” John ordered. “The pediatrician at the hospital. A nurse told me that he would be seeing Ricky Friday night. I can’t believe he didn’t know anything was wrong with that family.”
Vicki raced into the observation room, spotted John and ran to him.
“What are you doing here? It’s two a.m. I told you--”
“I spoke to Jaime and she spoke to Mark. I wanted to find out what’s going on.”
John let out a deep breath. “You just don’t listen. This isn’t civilian business!”
“He’s in my class.”
“Okay then, as long as you’re here, help me out. When did school start?” John asked.
“August ninth.”