Blind Delusion

by Dorothy Phaire

  Brenda hesitated. Renee prompted her to continue. “Go on, Brenda.”

  “Well, right after Janica was born of course I couldn’t work. Then Jerome lost his job and I ended up selling my car so I could apply for welfare. A few weeks later our baby daughter died in her sleep. Jerome talked me into filing the insurance claim to get Janica’s death benefits. But the money didn’t help.”

  Brenda stared at her folded hands as she spoke. “Jerome slid further into depression and drugs. It didn’t take long for him to smoke up all that insurance money on crack. Especially when Leenae and his homies became his full-time “getting high” crew and kept him dependent. That’s when I got fed up and left him … then one day out of the blue, Jerome and I ran into each other at a nightclub. It was obvious our feelings for each other were still strong. This time he promised to cleanup and to kick his addiction for good. So eventually we got married and the rest is history as they say. So here we are.”

  “Brenda, I need to go outside and talk to the Detectives handling your case. Will you be okay for a while?”

  “Sure, Dr. Renee. Thanks for listening. Do you think you could ask that Lieutenant Bradford if I could use the rest room?

  “Of course, Brenda. Can I get you anything?”

  “Maybe a cup of tea if they have it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, dear,” she said and patted her hand, before exiting out the door of the interrogation room. She knew Deek and Lt. Bradford had heard every word.

  Chapter 38

  After Renee left the interrogation room, she asked Detective Bradford if he had followed through on Brenda’s request for tea. She knew he had heard them behind the mirror. Bradford assured her that he already instructed someone to bring Brenda a cup of tea. He asked one of the guards to escort Brenda to the ladies room as she had also requested. Renee followed Bradford and Deek back to the squad room to discuss what Brenda had revealed to Renee.

  “So I’m the son of Satan, huh?” snarled Bradford, “Why the hell didn’t she give me some straight answers when I asked her about the infant's death and the insurance money she collected back then?”

  “I believe Brenda has been suffering from a disassociated personality disorder since the tragedy nine years ago,” said Dr. Renee. “When you tried to bring up those memories, her natural mental defenses threw her into disassociation.”

  “Doc, I’m shy a few cups of coffee to comprehend the drift of your lingo,” said Bradford, “Can you explain what the hell you’re talking about in plain English?”

  “Disassociation occurs when someone takes himself or herself out of a situation. They’re not present on an emotional level and they don't have control over it,” Renee explained in laymen's terms. “That way they don’t feel the horror and pain. They can actually block it out. So they disassociate and remove themselves mentally.”

  “I still don’t get what you’re talking about, Doc,” said Bradford, waving his hand away. “It doesn’t matter anyway ‘cause I don’t buy it. Brenda Johnson’s pity party is over.”

  “Perhaps, you could establish trust with her if you’d turn up the heat in that icebox you call an interrogation room,” said Renee, “It’s like the Antarctica in there.”

  “Yeah, I could do that but I’m not. Look, this ain’t the Hyatt, Doc. I don’t want Brenda Johnson or her mother getting too comfortable in our interrogation rooms. When they’ve had enough, they’ll talk and tell me what I wanna know.”

  Bradford and Deek entered the interrogation room where Brenda waited, while this time Renee watched from behind the two-way mirror. Bradford turned the tape recorder to record and continued his questioning. He assumed his usual domineering position for interrogations and loomed over Brenda with his arms folded across his overhanging stomach as Deek stood nearby.

  “Neighbors heard an argument at your place between your husband and Leenae Lewis about a week ago,” said Detective Bradford, “Do you know anything about that?”

  Brenda remained mute and refused to answer any of his questions. When her secretary shutdown from Lt. Bradford’s ‘tough guy’ approach, Renee couldn’t resist the urge to peep in through the two-way mirror at Irene Adams, still waiting in interrogation room 3. Irene Adams, dressed in a fitted, aqua-blue, jacquard suit, paced the small, enclosed space like a caged tigress. Her silver fox collared, gray mink coat lay draped over a chair.

  Renee could never let Brenda know what her mother did to incriminate her own daughter. Most children assumed their mothers loved them unconditionally and they’re devastated to find out otherwise. But somebody needed to straighten out Mrs. Irene Adams and Renee decided to volunteer for the job. Brenda’s mother was a greedy egocentric bitch but could she also be a murderer? Renee didn’t think Irene was the type to get her hands dirty by doing the deed herself, but she could have easily hired or tricked someone gullible like Hercules to carry out the crime for her. Irene Adams’ intense hatred of her son-in-law was common knowledge and now police had uncovered another possible motive—financial gain. She desperately needed to pay off her personal debts so she could resume her frivolous, self-serving lifestyle.

  Renee slipped out the observation room. The officer guarding the door to interrogation room 3 knew she was working on a case with the detectives so he allowed her to enter. Renee was glad the room was soundproof so she could tell that woman exactly what was on her mind.

  “Oh, it’s only you,” sighed Irene, turning around when she heard the door open. “What do you want? Where’s that fat-ass, Cro-Magnon piece of shit whose been keeping me cooped up in this hellhole all morning for no good reason?” Hours waiting in an interrogation room had removed all semblance of Irene Adams’ phony, high-class manners. Though she was never effective at keeping up that charade for long. “Where the hell is he?” Irene spewed, glancing at her watch. “I have an appointment at the spa this afternoon.”

  Renee approached Brenda’s mother with a determined look.

  “May I speak to you for a minute, Mrs. Adams?” she asked firmly.

  “What the hell do you want?” Irene sneered in a tone even more biting than usual.

  “I just thought I’d warn you, watch that you don’t implicate yourself in this crime by letting your greed get the best of you.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” she said, cocking her head to one side and folding her arms under her breast.

  “I know it was you who called Brenda’s insurance company right after Jerome’s murder,” said Renee. “If you had thought about someone else besides yourself for half a second, you would have realized that pretending to be Brenda and initiating the claim right after her husband’s death would cause police to think your daughter was a suspect. But maybe you really didn’t care about that.”

  “I have never intentionally hurt my little girl,” Irene raged. “I love her and she knows it. I don’t need to prove a damn thing to you.”

  “Mrs. Adams, you don’t even know the meaning of the word love. And if that wasn’t bad enough,” Renee continued, “when Brenda did not automatically receive her payout on the claim you initiated, you had to think of another way to get your hands on some fast cash, didn’t you? It’s a shame about that pesky, little insurance stipulation that a person suspected of intentionally causing a policy holder’s death is prohibited from collecting his insurance,” said Renee, shaking her head sarcastically while glaring at Mrs. Adams.

  “So you instructed your lover to reveal past evidence on someone else that also happened to lead police to damaging information about Brenda. All that scheming just so you could collect the reward money your husband put up to find legitimate leads.”

  “That was not my fault,” Irene yelled, “If Marvin had just given me the goddamn money in the first place I wouldn’t have to resort to these tactics. And who knew Hercules was such a fucking idiot? I realize now he’s only good for one t
hing.”

  “You are beyond pathetic, Mrs. Adams. I don’t understand how a mother can betray her own daughter and still look at herself in the mirror as much as you do without reproach.”

  “Who the hell are you to judge me, you tight-ass bitch?” Irene shrieked. “I’m not too much of a lady to whip your ass right here so you’d better leave while you still have a chance.”

  “I will leave Mrs. Adams because it’s obvious you don’t see how you’ve hurt Brenda. Talking to you is a waste of time. And just so we understand each other,” said Renee, “the only reason I’m keeping quiet about what you’ve done is to avoid hurting her more, as well as, your husband who I don’t know at all, but feel immensely sorry for.” Renee tore off a page from the notepad sitting on the table and scribbled the name and telephone number for her colleague, Dr. Helen Stone. She slid the paper across the desk in front of Mrs. Adams.

  “That’s the number for a good psychiatrist,” Renee said calmly, “I suggest you use it. Perhaps Dr. Stone can help a fifty-plus year old woman stop behaving like a selfish, oversexed teenager.”

  “Fifty-plus!” Irene shouted, “How dare you imply …”

  Renee left the room and closed the door without listening to the rest of Mrs. Adams outburst. Did Brenda’s mother realize how lucky she was to have such a lovely and kind-hearted daughter like Brenda? How could anyone be that wrapped up in themselves and so ungrateful about the precious gifts God had given them? She’d give anything to have a child of her own–just one. Renee didn’t want to waste another thought on Irene Adams.

  She returned to the two-way mirror behind room number one where Lt. Bradford still carried on his interrogation of Brenda. Detective Bradford conducted the questioning while Deek stood at the opposite end of the room and listened, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

  “If you didn’t do it, Mrs. Johnson, who do you think did?” snapped Lt. Bradford. Brenda stared down at her hands without answering.

  After several moments of silence, Brenda told him she remembered a telephone call Jerome received a little more than a week before he was killed. She said her husband acted nervous and frightened after the phone call and then soon left the house.

  “Who called? You got a name?”

  Brenda shrugged and shook her head.

  “Who did you conspire with to concoct this scheme? Was it your mother and her boy toy, Hercules?” said Bradford. Brenda didn’t respond as Bradford continued badgering her. “Looks like things worked out pretty good with you getting your child back safely in less than 24 hours. Sure seems nice of the killer to conveniently drop off your baby in front of a guard’s station,” he added sarcastically.

  “Yes, thank God for that,” Brenda responded wistfully.

  “Maybe you should be thanking whoever you conspired with to concoct this arson/kidnapping/murder offense. You expected to rack up another insurance payoff didn’t you Mrs. Johnson?” said Bradford, leaning forward across the table. “A real windfall this time, 50 thousand bucks of free money. Not to mention the added benefit of getting your revenge for finding your husband cheating on you again with Miss Lewis.” That got a reaction from her. Brenda’s face flushed and she gave him a scorching look. Still, her mouth remained clamped shut.

  “The crime lab lifted your fingerprints off pieces of duct tape that the arsonist ripped from the window to break in.”

  Brenda looked up. “That’s not surprising Detective Bradford since I’m the one who sealed up the window in the first place. Mama Etta’s house was over fifty years old with poor insulation. I used the duct tape to try and block out the cold air that was getting in.”

  “Hum, convenient,” he said, undeterred. “We also collected a sample from the arsonist’s clothing that got caught on a nail as he or she escaped through the window. Do you have a black knit Coogi sweat jacket in your possession?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “It’s amazing what lab analysis can determine from just a few strands of fabric.”

  “Good. I hope it leads you to who really killed my husband,” said Brenda.

  “You slipped through the cracks nine years ago ‘cause they didn’t have enough evidence to charge you. If you think I buy that disassociation crap Dr. Hayes is selling, think again, Mrs. Johnson,” he said, “If you cooperate now, it’ll go better for you in the long run.”

  “I’m cooperating as much as I can, Detective,” said Brenda near tears, “I want to go home to my baby.”

  “Too bad. At this rate you’ll never see him grow up.”

  “What do you want from me, Detective Bradford?”

  “A confession.”

  “I’m not guilty.”

  “Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?

  “Of course, I have nothing to hide,” she said, “I’ll do anything to convince you I’m innocent so you can start looking for the person responsible.”

  “Fine, I’ll schedule the test for one day next week.”

  Deek gave Bradford a signal that meant let’s talk outside. The two detectives left Brenda again and they met out in the squad room.

  “I think we should let up off Mrs. Johnson for awhile,” said Deek, “I’m still waiting on the gas chromatography analysis. Roberts says he’ll have it by Monday. Then we’ll be able to pinpoint where the arsonist bought the gasoline and maybe directly to the perp’s fuel tank.”

  Bradford stuffed both hands inside his pants pocket and shook his head.

  “Can’t you wait until Monday before scheduling a polygraph, Mel?” said Deek, “It’s only a matter of time before we fill in the missing pieces.”

  “Whaddya have against putting her through the test, Kid?”

  “It’s obvious this suspect is under a great deal of emotional stress. Strapping her to a chair with sensors will only make her anxiety worse,” said Deek. “Testing someone this emotional could produce a false positive result even if she’s telling us the truth. Since we don’t have an eyewitness, why not wait for more lab results.”

  “Right, there’s no eyewitness but there’s a helluva lot of compelling evidence against her. And, since I don’t think she pulled this off alone, I’m willing to bet it was a Mother and Daughter operation. I’m trying to get her to confess now to make it easier on her and you’re not helping. You know the DA’s going for the death penalty and the city’s top prosecutor is taking the case.”

  “With the flimsy evidence we’re giving them, just how do you think the prosecution can build a case of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt? The only finger prints at the crime scene are explainable and no witness can place her there.”

  “That’s their job description, Hotshot, not ours,” snapped Mel. “I’ve got my orders to charge her. So let’s put this thing in overdrive and call it a day.”

  “If that’s the game they want to play it’s a big risk,” said Deek, “They still want to go ahead and try the case on conjecture with very little hard evidence? If Brenda Johnson is truly guilty and gets off, it’ll be for good. They can’t ever try her again for this crime.”

  Bradford shrugged, “That’s their fuckin’ problem. I did my job.”

  Deek gave his partner a disgusted look.

  “Look Kid, despite our lack of physical evidence, a strong motive and opportunity still exists. In other words, no alibi and there’s a past precedent for insurance fraud. I’ll bet my badge that Brenda and a possible accomplice were in on this crime together. And since the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, my money’s on the mother. Lemme go find out what Mommy Dearest has to say, “said Detective Bradford, “I bet she’s ready to talk by now. It’ll be a helluva lot easier to offer her a deal to give up the dirt on Brenda. I bet she’ll jump at the bait to plea bargain for a lesser sentence.”

  Just then the Captain walked up.

  “How�
�s the Johnson case going, Mel?” she asked, “About ready to put this case to bed, I hope.”

  “Sure thing, Captain. I was just going in to break down a deal to the alleged accomplice in this Thelma and Louise outfit. Louise is tight-lipped but I think I can make Thelma crack. Stick around and watch me operate,” he bragged to his boss.

  Detective Bradford dubbed Mrs. Adams as the feisty Thelma in what he believed to be a mother-daughter crime plot. He entered room 3 to interrogate Irene Adams alone. Captain Frye, Deek, and Renee positioned themselves behind the mirror so they could observe Bradford questioning the suspected accomplice. Bradford asked Irene Adams to sit down. Then pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from her.

  “You’ve known the victim, Jerome Johnson since your daughter was in high school. How did you feel about your son-in-law, Mrs. Adams?”

  “He wasn’t on my list of top favorites but I had nothing to do with his murder and neither did my daughter. She’s practically a saint.”

  “Listen, I’m on your side, Mrs. Adams. I think the cheating, crackhead bastard got what he deserved,” he said.

  “Despite what you think, Detective, I didn’t hate my son-in-law,” said Irene. “It’s true, I didn’t like some of the people he associated with, especially that slut, Leenae Lewis. But since Jerome was the man my daughter chose, I accepted it and tried to make him feel like part of the family.”

  Mel gave Irene Adams an expressionless look. “You must think I’m as dumb as a box of rocks to believe that crap. We got witnesses who’ll attest to your intense hatred of your son-in-law from day one. Where were you on October 6th between eleven in the morning and one PM?”

  “Detective Bradford, we aren’t getting anywhere this way,” she said, sweetly.

  Irene rose slowly from her chair and walked around the table then sat on top the table facing him. She let her skirt rise several inches and crossed her legs to the opposite side where he had a clear view of her exposed thigh. She removed her jacket and unbuttoned the first three buttons of her sheer, black blouse to reveal a generous cleavage under a turquoise satin bustier.