by V. M. Burns
Jenna looked as though she wanted to spit nails. She got up and started pacing around the small room. “Why that no good dirt bag. I’ll have his badge,” she mumbled. After a few minutes, she sat down again and smiled at Dawson. “I’m sorry you had that experience. In this respect, your dad was right. If you ask for an attorney, they are supposed to stop and immediately call for a public defender.” She sighed. “However, now on to business. Do you have a dollar?”
Dawson looked puzzled but didn’t question Jenna’s request. He pulled out his wallet and took out a dollar and handed it to her.
She took the dollar. “Thank you. This is my retainer. That means you are retaining me to represent you and be your lawyer. I’ll write you a receipt and have you sign a document to that effect. Okay?”
Dawson nodded.
“Okay. Now you are not to talk to the police at all unless I’m with you. Understand?”
Dawson nodded.
“I called your coach on my way here. He’s aware of the situation. He doesn’t know the university’s position yet. But, I’m guessing the university will want to distance themselves from you until this whole mess is cleared up. There’s been so much negative publicity about football players and other athletes getting arrested, I’m sure the university counsel will recommend they take a neutral stance. But, we’ll deal with that hurdle when we get there.”
Jenna pulled a notebook, tape recorder, and pen out from her brief case. “Normally, I wouldn’t do things this way. But, I need to know everything. Start from how you met Melody to today.” She turned on the tape recorder.
He paused and took a couple of deep breaths before beginning his tale. “I met Melody on campus. One day she came up to me in the quad and asked for my cell phone. When I gave it to her, she put her number in my contacts and handed the phone back. She told me to call her.”
Nana Jo whistled.
“Shush. I’m willing to let you two stay, but you need to be quiet and let him finish,” Jenna said.
We nodded.
She looked at Dawson. “Go on.”
“Well, she was hot, and she was a senior and…she was really hot.”
“We get the picture. She was hot and easy, and you got involved. Is that right?” Jenna asked.
Dawson nodded. “Yeah. We were involved.”
“How long?”
“Only a couple of months. The season started in late August and she came up to me in September.”
Nana Jo made a sound that sounded like, harrumph. “Figures. MISU was on a winning streak and your picture was on the front page of the River Bend Times. She saw her chance to latch onto a meal ticket and she took it.”
“Nana Jo please.” Jenna looked irritated. “Stop interrupting.”
“It’s okay. She’s right. At first, I was flattered. Guys looked at me different when I walked around campus with Melody on my arm. Girls too. But, she didn’t really care about me. She only wanted to be seen with me. She just wanted to go to parties and have her picture taken. She wanted me to move out of my apartment.” He glanced at me shyly. “She went to the owner of Harbor Point Apartments and convinced him to rent the penthouse apartment to me.”
“Harbor Point?” Despite Jenna’s warning, I couldn’t stop myself from interrupting. “Those units are really expensive. They look right out on Lake Michigan. The penthouse must cost a fortune.”
“Normally, they lease for three thousand a month.”
Nana Jo whistled, and I nearly choked.
Even Jenna seemed surprised. “How could you afford that?”
“I can’t. The owner is a big MISU fan and a friend of hers. She said he was willing to lease it to me for two hundred a month.”
Jenna looked as though she could barely believe her ears. “Two hundred? That’s ridiculous. Sam could get more than two hundred a month for the garage studio. Why would he do that?”
Dawson shrugged. “I don’t know, but it seemed shady. I didn’t like the guy. He seemed slimy. He was older and wore polyester shirts with all these gold chains. He had really dark chest hair and big fake-looking hair that looked like a toupee. I just didn’t trust him.” Dawson looked down.
After six months, I knew Dawson pretty well. Nana Jo and I exchanged glances. There was more to this. Jenna hadn’t spent nearly as much time with Dawson as we had, but her instincts must have kicked in because she remained quiet and waited. Most people didn’t recognize the power of silence and tried to fill it in quickly. As a former teacher, I can honestly say silence generated more results than anything else I’d ever said or done. It worked this time too.
“He reminded me of my dad. I knew there would be something in it for him later. One night I was playing pool with some friends by the old HOD.”
“The HOD?” Jenna stared. “That trailer park owned by the House of David?”
Dawson nodded.
The House of David was a religious commune that flourished in North Harbor during the early twentieth century. At one time the area thrived with an amusement park, baseball stadium, and fruit and vegetable market. Practically all their businesses had closed long ago when their founder, Benjamin Purnell, was tried for fraud and accused of child molestation. The molestation charges were never proved, but the rumors did plenty of damage. Purnell died not long after the trial and the House of David split into two factions.
“I saw him there. Virgil Russell was at the bar, drinking.”
Either Dawson had learned to read my mind, or I’d let my thoughts show on my face, because he hurried to add, “I wasn’t drinking. I just like to go there and shoot pool. It’s quiet. No one there talks football or knows who I am.” He hung his head.
I hadn’t realized how much pressure he was under. I thought his biggest worry was keeping his grades up and staying on the team. I hadn’t realized how much the pressure of the media and the fans was weighing on him. As I scanned his face now, I saw what I hadn’t before.
“So, you saw this Virgil Russell at the pool hall.” Jenna continued. “Did he see you?”
“No. I snuck out as soon as I saw him. But, he looked like he was waiting for someone. I don’t know why, but I waited in the car until he came out. When he came out, he wasn’t alone.”
Dawson’s voice got very soft. He was obviously reluctant to continue, but he took a couple of deep breaths and plowed forward. “That’s when I saw them. Melody and Virgil were together.”
Jenna looked at me.
I shrugged. Obviously she knew Virgil since she introduced Dawson to him. Again, my face must have revealed my confusion.
Dawson fidgeted and refused to make eye contact for several seconds. Then he looked at me. “Don’t you see, they were together.”
Finally, it dawned on all of us at the same time.
“It was disgusting. He had to be old enough to be her father. He had his hands all over her and she was wrapped around him like a…like a…” Dawson struggled to find the right simile to describe what he’d seen.
Nana Jo didn’t have any trouble conjuring up the right comparison. “Like an octopus.”
“Yeah. That pretty much says it all.”
I studied Dawson’s facial expressions and body language, and I knew there was more. He was holding something back. But I refused to entertain the thought he murdered that girl.
Jenna took a couple of deep breaths. “Okay, so you saw your girlfriend with another man. Did that make you angry?”
Dawson seemed to think about the question before answering, “Maybe for a few seconds. But, honestly, I think I felt relieved.”
“Relieved? Why relieved?” Jenna asked.
“I knew things wouldn’t work between Melody and me. I knew she didn’t care about me. This gave me the excuse I needed to end things with her. And, that’s what I did. I broke it off.”
“When was this?”
&nbs
p; He was silent for a few moments. “Friday night, right after the pep rally.”
“How did she take it?”
Dawson rubbed his face. “Not so good. At first, she tried to deny it was her. Then, when that wouldn’t work, she said I was mistaken about their relationship. She claimed they were just friends.” Dawson shook his head. “She must think I was the biggest hayseed on the planet. There is no way I mistook their relationship when he had his hands all over her. He was groping her like a…like a…”
“Like a blind man at a produce stand.” Nana Jo again came to the rescue.
“Nana Jo.” Jenna was not amused, and her voice said, either be quiet or you’ll have to leave.
Nana Jo used her hands to indicate she was zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key.
Jenna turned back to Dawson. “Okay, so three days ago, you broke up with her. She didn’t take it well. What happened next?”
“Saturday was the football game. Later that evening, she came by the bookstore. She said she wanted to talk. I took her up to my apartment. We got into an argument.”
“Did you hit her?” Jenna asked.
Dawson shook his head. “No. I never hit her. Although she hit me several times. She scratched me. I had to grab her wrists to protect myself.” He held up his hands to show how he had grabbed her. “She kicked and spit and lashed out with everything she had. I held her down on the sofa until she calmed down. Then I picked her up and put her out. She screamed and cussed and beat on the door for a while. I was afraid she’d wake up the whole neighborhood, but I never opened the door. She finally must have gotten tired and left. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Sounds like she really made a big racket.” Jenna looked at me. “Did you hear it?”
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t hear a thing.” I turned to Nana Jo. “Did you?”
Nana Jo shook her head.
Jenna sat and stared. “Dawson, is there anything else you want to tell me?”
He paused and eventually shook his head. “No. That’s everything.”
“What about yesterday? Did you see her Sunday?”
“No. I stayed home. I baked.”
“That’s right. I was there with him,” I said eagerly.
“But you weren’t there all day. You went to church with Mom yesterday. I know because she told me. You went to church and dinner and then shopping.”
“Well, yeah, but he was home baking when I got home.”
Jenna didn’t look relieved. “What about you?” She turned to Nana Jo.
“Ruby Mae’s granddaughter sang a solo at their church. I went to hear her and then I went to brunch with the girls.”
The girls were Nana Jo’s friends from the retirement village. They were feisty, active, and sweet each in their own way.
Jenna frowned. Then she got up and paced. “I’m going to be honest. It doesn’t look good. We need to find out when she died. The police will most likely arrest you.”
Dawson looked terrified and, I have to admit, something clutched my chest that seemed to be restricting my airway and forcing tears to my eyes. “But he’s innocent.”
“I know, but he has a really good motive. Plus, he had an altercation with the deceased. It’s just a matter of time before they find Dawson’s skin cells under her fingernails. Even a fool like Detective Stinky Pitt could get a conviction with that.”
The thing clutching at my heart made it hard to speak. With effort, I managed to squeak out, “But what are we going to do?”
“I’m going to work on a defense.”
Nana Jo stood. “And we’re going to figure out who killed that floozy.”
About the Author
V. M. Burns was born and raised in South Bend, Indiana. She currently resides in Tennessee with her two poodles, Cash and Kenzie. Valerie is a member of Mystery Writers of America and a lifetime member of Sisters in Crime. Readers can visit her website at www.vmburns.com.