by Mary Monroe
All eyes were on Scary Mary. The living room got so quiet that all I could hear was a faint humming noise coming from my refrigerator in the kitchen. I had never thought to desecrate my rapist’s grave, but it didn’t bother me one bit that Scary Mary had done it. If what they had said about Harrietta was true, then I couldn’t think of a punishment severe enough for her that would satisfy me.
“My God, my God!” Muh’Dear managed, looking like she was going to faint. “How in the world can so much mess happen right up under our noses all the time? No wonder my granddaughter took off! Lord, I hope she gets her little behind back here before somebody else gets their hands on her!”
“I don’t know what this world is comin’ to,” Daddy moaned. “Young kids and sex don’t mix!” He had adjusted his glasses, but they were still on crooked. The left lens covered only half of his eye.
I heard the paperboy toss The Richland Review daily newspaper on my front porch. I rushed out to get it and started reading it before I went back into the house. First of all, there was a report about Jade’s arrest. Located at the bottom of the front page was a four-paragraph article with the heading:
DAUGHTER OF PROMINENT RICHLAND FAMILY DETAINED AT
C LEVELAND-HOPKINS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT FOR
ALLEGEDLY SMUGGLING MARIJUANA FROM JAMAICA
I only scanned the first paragraph. It didn’t tell me anything that I didn’t already know. I was more interested in the lead story on the front page. The headline immediately made me sick. It was much more upsetting than the one about Jade. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I read:
LOCAL WOMAN ARRESTED IN WORLDWIDE CHILD PORNO RING
It was a major struggle for me to finish that first paragraph that followed the headline. And there were so many additional paragraphs that the story took up two whole columns. Even though Scary Mary had revealed all she knew about Harrietta, the newspaper report brought it all home. Harrietta had photographed and videotaped those poor children in sexual situations, including bondage and S&M. Young kids involved in something as sinister and depraved as sadomasochism was something I couldn’t even begin to fathom. I knew there were some young kids from horrific backgrounds who willingly got involved in this kind of shit, but I knew that none of the kids in Harrietta’s care had even heard of such foolishness until she entered their lives. All of the parents of the other children, and I, had practically handed over our children to this monster on a silver platter! I was glad that I didn’t have access to a gun. I was so angry, I wanted to storm the jail and shoot that bitch dead.
Harrietta Jameson had advertised and sold the pictures and videos of the children over the Internet. The article went on to say that according to several sources connected to the case, she’d kept a huge supply in her own home for her own perverse pleasure. No wonder that sick bitch didn’t date! I could not read the whole article. Black bile oozed out of my mouth like tar, spattering onto my feet.
When I got back inside, waving the newspaper in my hand, tears and sweat sliding down my face, Lillimae grabbed the newspaper and read the front page headlines out loud. She let out a scream that could have woken up a dead man. She stomped her foot and flung the newspaper to the floor.
To this day, I don’t remember all of the harsh things that my family and friends said about Harrietta that morning. Everybody agreed that she was the reason Charlotte had run away. We were all confident that now that Harrietta had been exposed, Charlotte would be home any minute now. But that wasn’t the only subject we discussed. Somebody, I don’t remember who, made a few comments about Jade’s arrest. Otis clearly didn’t want to discuss it. He snorted and stumbled toward the kitchen, waving his hands in the air. Rhoda grimaced and shook her head, making it clear that she didn’t want to discuss it further either. However, she did say for my ears only, “She had it comin’.”
Jade had a lot of shit coming her way and she deserved it. But my twelve-year-old child did not deserve to be involved in a sex scandal! Had I been able, I would have kicked my own ass. As a survivor of sexual abuse, how could I have not known something was not right with Harrietta? How could I have not questioned the fact that my child, other kids in the neighborhood, and even Harrietta’s own children were terrified of her? And what about the neighborhood dogs barking at only her? The mess that she had fed to me about those dogs barking at her because of her unusual perfume was bullshit. Animals sensed a lot of things, and now I knew that one of the things they sensed was the presence of evil.
During my nightmare with Mr. Boatwright, I had never complained to my mother about me not liking him. As a matter of fact, everybody, including my mother and Scary Mary, had regarded that nasty bastard as a saint, and he had acted like one—except with me. He not only fucked me on a regular basis, he controlled almost everything I did. He decided what friends I could have, what I could do, where I could go, and so on. I had not thrown up any red flags, and the reason for that was my abuser had threatened to kill me and my mother. He even went so far as to stick a gun in my mouth on more than one occasion. That was all he needed to do for me to keep my mouth shut. My daughter had tried to tell me something about Harrietta, and I had chosen not to listen. Had Harrietta threatened her too? The thought made my flesh crawl and my blood boil.
There were no words to describe how frightened I was. Another foul predator had turned my life upside down, and the fact that this time it was a woman made it even worse.
My daughter had been “missing” since the night before, and I had no idea where she was or whom she was with. I knew that there were a lot of other predators out there just waiting to get their paws on a naïve twelve-year-old.
“I need to let the cops know Charlotte was one of the kids in Harrietta’s care,” I said, the words burning my mouth like acid.
“Honey, you ain’t got to worry about that. Dem investigators will be comin’ to you,” Otis said, returning to the living room and still waving his hands in distress. “Maybe de same ones who took Harrietta’s children to protective custody. . .”
Otis’s remarks gave me something else to worry about! If this mess really got out of hand, would the child protective people remove my child from my custody when she turned up? “I don’t want my child taken to a foster home!” I hollered. “How could I have been so blind and stupid?”
“Annette, don’t jump the gun. Until we locate Charlotte and find out how she was mixed up in Harrietta’s mess, we don’t have to worry about them child-care folks puttin’ our child in no foster home. Baby, you didn’t do a damn thing wrong!” Pee Wee assured me.
“Yes, I did,” I muttered. “My child was crying out for help, loud and clear, and I didn’t listen to her.”
CHAPTER 61
WE ALL KEPT OUR EYES GLUED TO THE TV MONITOR, WAITING to see what the news was going to report next on Harrietta. Each report was bad, but to me it seemed like each new one was more disgusting than the one before it. One broadcast stated that that low-down bitch had even made videos of some of those poor kids masturbating and performing oral sex on one another!
“If they ever release that bitch, I am goin’ to take care of her for good,” Rhoda growled. She gave me a conspiratorial look and I knew exactly what she meant. I wanted to kill Harrietta myself, but I didn’t want to suffer any more consequences for my actions; because if I did kill her and ended up in jail, I really couldn’t protect my child the next time. And I didn’t want Rhoda to end up in jail either. Not with all of the mess that she had going on in her life with her own daughter.
My head was throbbing so badly by now that I had to hold a cold compress against my forehead to relieve the pain. That helped a little, but then my stomach and my chest began to cause me even more pain.
“Annette, why don’t you go upstairs, take a relaxin’ bath, and lie down in your bed for a while. That couch can’t be too comfortable,” Lillimae said. She stood over me as I lay sprawled on one end of the couch with that cold compress still pressed against my forehead.
“
Annette, take an aspirin,” Rhoda suggested. “Then get in your bed where you’ll be more comfortable too.”
“No, I don’t need any aspirin, and I’d rather stay right here,” I declared. I was aggravated even more because now the inside of my mouth tasted like shit. There was also an even larger lump in my throat now. It seemed like every few minutes, a different part of my body felt under siege. “I ... I guess I need to go back to the police station soon and tell them that my daughter was one of the kids who had been in Harrietta’s care,” I said. Everybody looked at me. Before anybody else could speak, the telephone rang. The caller ID flashed Wyrita’s name and phone number. I almost didn’t answer, but it was a good thing I did.
It was Wyrita’s cousin Lizel on the other end of the line, with some more disturbing news. “Annette, I heard about your girl. I seen the flyer they put up in the window at the Grab and Go when I stopped there on the way home from my aerobics class,” Lizel informed me. “Did she come home yet?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I have no idea where she is or who she is with,” I sobbed, rubbing my forehead.
“Well, I think I saw her over on Lymon Court last night,” Lizel said in a low voice. “It sure kind of looked like her.”
Lymon Court was one of the shabby areas where a lot of Richland’s lowlifes hung out. It was also the main stroll for the street prostitutes.
“What?” I rasped. “You think you saw her?”
“Uh-huh. Something tells me it really was her—I could be wrong, though. I didn’t have my contacts in. But when I drove closer to the curb and slowed down my car to get a better look, she saw me. She turned so I couldn’t see her face.”
“But you’re still not sure it was her?” I asked. Charlotte was well aware of the high crime in that area and it frightened her. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even like it when she was with me in the car when I had to drive through there to get to Claudette’s beauty shop.
“Oh my Lord,” I moaned. I stopped rubbing my forehead because I was afraid I was going to rub a hole in it. “What was she ... doing?”
“Don’t start me to lying. But if I had to guess, I would say that she was trying to get paid, if you know what I mean. She was sure enough dressed the part. She had on one of them straight-up hoochie-coochie woman outfits: real short skirt, makeup, some kind of halter top, and sky-high heels with toes so sharp they looked like missiles.”
“No! That couldn’t have been Charlotte! She doesn’t even like to go near that place in a car. She’s not allowed to wear makeup yet, and she doesn’t own any clothing and shoes like that!” I immediately wished that I had not included that last sentence. I was not naïve. I knew that if Charlotte, or any other young girl, wanted to wear makeup and hoochie-coochie outfits, she would. When I was young, I used to sneak around and wear makeup before Muh’Dear gave me permission to do so. And the only reason I didn’t wear sexy outfits back then was because muumuus and other loose-fitting frocks were the only things big enough for me to fit in.
“Well, she might not own nothing like that, but she was sure enough wearing it. Or I should say all that mess was wearing her. She looked like she was eighteen, going on nineteen,” Lizel clucked.
“NO!” I screamed.
“Yes! And that pimping hound dog that they call Hollywood was with her. I don’t know if he done already turned her out, but I doubt if they was over there window-shopping, if you know what I mean. Lord help us!”
“Thanks, Lizel,” I muttered, clumsily placing the telephone back into its cradle. “That was Lizel. She saw Charlotte on Lymon Court last night with that pimp they call Hollywood.”
Every jaw in the room dropped.
“Hollywood? Oh, hell no! His butt is mine! He’s been tryin’ to steal my girls from me for years! I told him the next time he stepped on my blue suede shoes, I was gwine to teach him a lesson he would never forget!” Scary Mary screamed. She got so excited she started pacing the floor, swinging her cane in the air with every step.
“Ain’t he that same nasty-ass thug that Jade moved in with when Rhoda kicked her out?” Lillimae gasped, giving Rhoda a pitiful look.
“He is. But I ran into one of her stripper friends at Claudette’s beauty shop a few weeks ago. She told me she and Jade have been sharin’ a place since the end of August,” Rhoda reported.
“So your girl traded one devil for another, huh?” Daddy hollered.
Rhoda dropped her head and didn’t respond. She had not mentioned Jade’s current living arrangements before now. At one time I could not imagine the pain she was going through because of her child. Now I knew....
I sucked in my stomach and picked up the telephone again. “I need to call the cops.” Then I looked at Rhoda. “I need to have them go over to Hollywood’s place and arrest my daughter for her own good... .”
I could see the tears forming in Rhoda’s eyes as she nodded at me. “You’re goin’ to set up your own daughter to get arrested?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Something like that. If they take her to jail, at least I’ll know where she is,” I managed, locking eyes with Rhoda. Now I knew how she felt! Now I felt that her setting Jade up to be arrested was the best thing she could have done to save her child. I was convinced that if I wanted to save my daughter, I had to have her locked up too. My hands were trembling so hard I couldn’t hold the telephone still. I had tears in my eyes, too, so my vision was blurred. I had to blink several times and wipe my eyes just so I could see the numbers on the dial.
“I hope them folks take you seriously this time,” Pee Wee said.
Scary Mary hobbled across the floor and stood in front of me, leaning on her cane. She was leaning so far to the side, I thought she was going to fall over, but she didn’t. She was so old, her bones so weak, she rarely stood up straight anyhow. “Annette, hand me that telephone,” she ordered. “This is mine. I’m gwine to straighten out this mess!” Scary Mary grabbed the telephone out of my hand and punched in some numbers. “Let me speak with Detective Robert Donnelly, please ... uh-huh. Horse feathers! I ain’t gwine to tell you the nature of this call! You just tell him that Scary Mary is on—uh-huh. Bless your soul. Yes, I’m that Scary Mary. Put him on ... Hello, Bobby—what you mean ‘who’s callin’?’ You know who this is, goddammit! Thank you ... Yes, I’m fine, too, even though I’m still recoverin’ from grippe, shingles, and gout. Uh-huh. Listen, my godchild’s daughter is missin’. She’s shackin’ up with that low-down funky black dog they call Hollywood—a PIMP... . Uh-huh ... that’s the one. One of my spies seen her with him on the Lymon Court stroll last night and the word is she’s stayin’ at his place.... Uh-huh. Oh, she’s a minor all right ... twelve—ain’t even cut all her teeth yet. You send somebody over there to that poontang-palace Hollywood works out of lickety-split. Have one of your boys grab a hold of him and cuff him up real good. Then I want you to take the child to juvie for a wake-up call. I bet that a few nights with the rest of them hardheaded heifers in that big doll house will do her a world of good.” Scary Mary paused; then she cackled like a setting hen, laughing so hard tears rolled out of her eyes. “Don’t worry ... my girl Lola will be available when you bring your happy white ass by the house for your weekly visit.... Bye, baby.” Scary Mary exhaled a loud breath, looked around the room, and snapped her gnarled finger. “Somebody pour me another drink.”
“What was that phone call about?” Daddy asked dumbly, scratching his chin.
Otis handed Scary Mary another glass of Jack Daniels. With her chin tilted up and lips pursed like a goldfish, she took a long drink before she turned to me. “Case closed,” she said with a wink.
CHAPTER 62
THE NEXT DAY WENT BY IN A HAZE. THERE WERE TIMES WHEN I thought that I was walking in my sleep. I had no appetite, and I didn’t even want a glass of alcohol, my usual pacifier. All I wanted was for things to be back to normal again. Whatever that was.
That evening around six-thirty while I was alone, two male investigators in suits, a
ccompanied by a husky policewoman, came to my house to tell me that Charlotte was in custody. Despite all of the glamour of TV, where these kinds of folks usually looked like George Clooney and Charlie’s Angels, these three people looked more like the sour-faced types that appeared on Cops. I had never had cops in my house before, and after the way I’d been treated when I went to the station to get them to help find Charlotte, I didn’t like them that much. And from the looks of these three, I didn’t have too much confidence in their abilities. I would have bet good money that they could not investigate a serious case, or even protect a piggy bank.
As soon as they started to talk, my doubts and fears went away. The older man—I forgot their names as soon as they told me—did most of the talking. “Mrs. Davis, you can rest assured; we’ve got everything under control. Your daughter is safe and sound, and happy that things turned out the way they did. She’s been checked out by a doctor, and she’s fine ... physically at least. But I strongly advise you to take her to talk to a therapist as soon as possible.”