Murder and Misdeeds

by Helen Goodman

  “And there's one other thing you need to ask.”

  “What's that?”

  “Did Tony go out again?”

  Jeremiah grimaced. “Okay, now we have Tony on the hot seat, what about Stephon? Where did he go after he said goodnight? Straight to bed like a good little boy? Or did he follow Keisha? Maybe arranged to meet her later? Did they meet and have a lover's spat that turned violent?”

  With each of Jeremiah's questions, Fonnie's head dropped lower. When her friend paused, she looked up. “I don't know. But I do think his grief is genuine. You saw how he looked. Could he be that good an actor if he wasn't really hurting?”

  Jeremiah walked to the window, gazed out for a long moment before answering. “Yes, he's hurting. But is it because of Keisha's disappearance, or because of what he did to make her disappear?”

  Fonnie dropped the pen and paper in her lap. “None of it makes any sense. Is it all connected? Or do we have three separate mysteries?”

  Jeremiah walked over and pulled her to her feet. “Let's go out and get some fresh air. We'll let the police do their job. They may have something to tell us later.”

  Keisha had to pee. Somehow this basic animal urge worked itself through her unconsciousness. She raised her head, pushed herself to a sitting position, and tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed. But there was no side of the bed. Her legs scraped across cold concrete. She opened her eyes and saw only darkness. Her fuzzy brain tried to make sense of the situation. It couldn't. Her head ached, her throat felt raw, and she had no idea where she was. She leaned back on her elbows, and when she tilted her face upward, she glimpsed a tiny strip of light.

  She forced herself to focus on the light. It was coming from somewhere. Another room? Outside? Wherever the origin of the light, she reasoned the space beneath it had to be a wall. If she could get to her feet and walk toward the light, she would come to the wall. Then she could follow the wall around to a light switch or a door. She had to get out of this place soon and find a bathroom or she was going to wet her pants.

  The first step was to get up. She bent her knees and at the same time pushed her body back into a sitting position. She then leaned to the right, gave a mighty push with her right hand and came up on both knees. Her head began to spin, and she was afraid of toppling over, but she took some deep breaths and regained her balance. So far, so good.

  Next she had to figure out how to get from her knees to her feet. It should be a simple task, she thought, but then her mind started playing games with her. One part of her brain told her to forget it, to lie back down, to go back to sleep. It seemed like a marvelous idea.

  But then another voice was telling her not to give up. It sounded like her father's voice. “All things are possible,” he said.

  Keisha smiled in the darkness, and her spirit answered him. “Sure, Pop, I can do it. I know I can do it.” She raised her left knee and placed her left foot flat on the floor. Then she put both hands on her left knee and pushed up with her other leg. She was standing. She wanted to shout “Hallelujah” but when she opened her mouth no sound came out. She wondered why she couldn't talk, but there wasn't time to think about that now. She had to get to the wall.

  After a few moments her head stopped reeling, and she took a step forward. Then another and another. She was going to make it. She pushed her hands out in front of her so they would touch the wall first. At the same time her hands reached the rough cement wall, her shins collided with something hard. She bent down, rubbed the front of her legs, and then felt forward to find what she'd run into. It was a bench, a wooden bench. Steadying herself with one hand against the wall, she turned around and sank gratefully onto the seat. She tried to twist her head to the light. Every movement of her neck was agony, but she had to see where the light was coming from. Then she attempted to hold her head still and twist her whole upper body until she got a good view. It seemed to be a slight crack between the top of the wall and the ceiling of the room. It has to be sunlight, she thought. This is an outside wall and there must be people out there—people who could help. She listened carefully for voices, for any sound. There was nothing. She dropped down on the bench in despair.

  Again her mind tried to escape from the prison that held her body, but something deep within Keisha's soul resisted. Somehow she would find a way out.

  She leaned back against the wall hoping her head would stop swimming. After a while it slowed enough so that she thought it safe to move again. Instead of standing up, she slid gingerly down the bench, one hand leading the way so she wouldn't tumble over the end. The other hand brushed over the cement wall. She would stay with the bench as long as it lasted and one way or another she would cover every inch of the wall. There had to be a light switch somewhere and there had to be a door—a door to freedom. It took only a few seconds to reach the first corner. The bench continued and so did Keisha. After moving a few feet along the second wall, her fingers dropped off the end of the wooden seat.

  She slowly heaved herself up and started walking, her hands continually brushing the wall. Before long she felt a change in texture under her fingers. She puzzled over it. She rubbed over the surface again. Were her hands becoming as numb as her brain? In a moment both her hands and her mind kicked into gear. She was feeling a smoother, warmer surface. She had found a door.

  Frantically, she groped in front of her. Where there was a door, there had to be a knob. Her left wrist found it with a bang. She shook her wrist in pain while her right hand grasped the metal knob. She took a deep breath and turned the knob. She heard a slight squeak. She held the knob tightly and pulled it hard toward her. The door didn't move.

  Keisha had to fight the despair that again threatened to engulf her. She yanked on the doorknob, over and over. Nothing. Her head was beginning to feel like a whirling top. She leaned forward to rest. She felt a movement. The door was opening, but instead of moving toward her, as she had expected, it was moving away from her body. Keisha bent forward and moved with it. She jerked herself up. Maybe this was her way out. She wanted to smile. She wanted to laugh. Both were impossible. Every motion of her face and neck brought spasms of pain. But that wasn't going to stop her now.

  She pushed hard against the door. It slammed open with a resounding noise. It had apparently hit another wall. She kept her left hand on the door and stepped into what she thought was an open space. Again her legs bumped into a solid object. Another bench? She felt around and this time her hands felt something smooth and round. Her brain sent a welcomed message to her bladder. She had found a bathroom.

  When she finished, her fingers searched for the flushing mechanism, but couldn't find one. That's all right, she thought. At least now she could focus on what was really important—how to get out. Perhaps she'd even be able to remember how she got here.

  She stood up quickly. Too quickly. The inside of her head spun around violently. She wobbled as she zipped up her jeans, then reached out to the door. Her goal was to get back to further search along the wall. She didn't make it.

  She staggered sideways, fell, and her head smashed against the concrete floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was nearly two o'clock that Monday afternoon when Brian drove up to the Beachside Motel. Fonnie and Jeremiah had dragged their rocking chairs to the far side of the verandah that had a view of the parking lot so they could keep watch. As soon as she saw him drive in, Fonnie rushed for the lobby. Jeremiah was right behind her.

  Brian burst through the front doors and headed for the desk. His grandmother's voice whirled him around. “Brian. Over here.”

  He closed the distance between them in a nanosecond and enfolded her in his long arms. He stepped back and asked, “Any news?”

  She shook her head, then looking past his shoulder, she spied another figure entering the door. Fonnie pulled out of Brian's arms into another outstretched pair. “Tyrone. I'm so glad you came.”

  The big brown hunk squeezed her and said between tight lips, “
I had to. I have to find Sis.”

  “I know,” Fonnie said. Ever since she'd met him, Fonnie had been impressed with Tyrone's caring attitude and tenderness. At sixteen, he had the body of a bear, the mind of a scholar, and the heart of a Santa Claus.

  She pulled him over to Jeremiah and introduced them. “This is Keisha's little brother, Tyrone.” Fonnie turned back to the young man. “And this is Jeremiah Trent, my new son-in-law's uncle who has become a good friend.”

  “Little doesn't seem to be the right adjective for you, young man,” Jeremiah said as the two shook hands. “But I'm mighty glad to meet you. I only wish we had some good news.”

  Brian reached out and grasped Jeremiah's hand. “Thanks for being here for Gram. I know it's been a comfort to her.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “It's been bad, Brian. Two young women missing and not a clue. Or if there is, the police are being close-mouthed about it.”

  Brain looked over at two uniformed officers by the desk. “I'm going to see if I can get up with Steinberg and get the latest.”

  “I'm going with you,” Tyrone said with a determined look.

  Brian hesitated. “Better let me go first. Since I'm in law enforcement, the detective is more apt to be open with me. He sounded like an okay guy when I talked to him on the phone.”

  Tyrone shook his head. “She's my sister. I have a right to know what's going on.”

  “And you will. But let me handle it. Cops have to be careful when they talk to family. They may clam up around you.” Brian turned to Fonnie. “You and Jeremiah show Tyrone around, fill him in on all you know. And get rooms for us. I'll catch up with you later.”

  “Before you leave,” Fonnie said to Brian, “there's something you need to know. The detective has been doing quick interviews with people all morning. But he spent an awful long time with Stephon. And when Stephon came out he wouldn't talk to me. Said he was going to his room. Maybe you could find out about that.”

  Brain frowned, shook his head and forged over to the police officers.

  “Who's this Stephon?” Tyrone asked.

  Fonnie and Jeremiah exchanged glances. Fonnie started to say something, but Jeremiah answered first. “A friend of your sister's.” He took Tyrone by the elbow and steered him toward the verandah. “Let's get some fresh air and I'll tell you about everybody.”

  The sun had come out and the air was pleasantly warm. A gentle breeze was blowing in from the ocean. Fonnie thought how outwardly serene everything seemed, in sharp contrast to her inner turmoil.

  They were barely settled in their chairs when Tyrone demanded, “Now tell me about this Stephon fellow and anyone else who might be a suspect. Brian told me what he knew on the way up, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “Take it easy,” Jeremiah said. “As far as we know, no one is a suspect yet, unless Brian can get some information out of the cops. But I will tell you what has happened that we know. I think we need to start with Melanie's disappearance and go from there.”

  “No,” Fonnie interrupted, “you need to go back to the wedding and Buzz's death. I'm sure somehow it's all connected.”

  For the next several minutes Jeremiah related the events of the past several days with occasional interjections from Fonnie. Tyrone listened with his whole body.

  When they were finished, Tyrone sat hunched over, his fingers clenched together, his eyes misty. “Why would anyone want to hurt Keisha?”

  Fonnie had no answer. She wanted to say that maybe Keisha hadn't been hurt, that she would turn up soon, that everything would be fine. But she didn't believe it and she knew Tyrone wouldn't either. She evaded the question with a quick change of subject. “I meant to ask about your father sooner. How is he?”

  Tyrone turned to her and gave a faint smile. “Living his faith. He's called a prayer meeting of the entire church. He wanted to come with us, but decided he would be more help to Keisha by manning the prayer fortress. Said he would keep people praying until Keisha was found and returned to her family.”

  “And she will be,” Jeremiah said. “Prayer is a powerful force. And in the meantime, we'll be doing a little sleuthing ourselves. I think there's one area the police may have failed to consider.”

  Fonnie jerked up. “What are you talking about, Jeremiah? You know something I don't?”

  “Not really, but it occurred to me that officially Buzz's death isn't even a police case yet. Therefore, they may not be considering any connection between him and the disappearances. We, however, think there is a connection. So maybe if we learn more about Buzz, we'll spot a link.”

  “But you've known Buzz ever since Paul joined the law firm,” Fonnie said.

  “Only socially. I don't know anything about his law practice, and at this point, I don't want to call Paul and ask him any questions.”

  “So how are you going to learn anything?”

  Jeremiah clapped Tyrone on the back. “That's where this young man comes in.”

  “Me?” Tyrone sounded surprised. “What can I do?”

  “If you're like most kids today, you're computer savvy. Right?”

  “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  “The motel has computers with internet connections for patrons to use. You're going to do a search for the law firm of Myers, Garrison, and Trent with special attention to Cyrus Garrison. Find out where he went to school, his particular branch of law, anything else that might give us a clue. Are you up to it?”

  “Yes sir, if it will facilitate the investigation.” Tyrone grinned shyly. “I saw a coffee shop as I came in. Let me appropriate a Milky Way first. I google faster with an elevated glucose level.”

  When Tyrone was out of earshot, Jeremiah shook his head at Fonnie. “Does he always use five-dollar words? He sounds like a walking dictionary.”

  “I know. He's studying for his SAT, and he thinks he needs to improve his vocabulary.”

  “I may have to improve mine,” Jeremiah said, “if I stick around him long.”

  Fonnie grinned. “It wouldn't hurt you any. But back to the matter at hand, do you think you'll find any useful information on the internet?”

  “Never can tell. At least it'll make Tyrone feel that he's helping.”

  Fonnie watched her young friend and her older friend walk toward the computer lounge, their heads together as they discussed their project. In a way she envied them. At least they were doing something, while she sat there on her tush. She waited impatiently for Brian to come back and report to her. Or maybe he won't be back any time soon, she thought. He would probably stick close to Lieutenant Steinberg as long as he was allowed to.

  She was squirming in her chair wondering what to do next when she spotted Lula on the far end of the verandah. The young woman was sipping from a tall frosty glass and Fonnie was sure it wasn't lemonade. She liked Lula but worried about her drinking. Fonnie suspected that Lula and Edgar's marriage had problems, and this might be Lula's way of coping.

  Lula looked in Fonnie's direction, waved, and motioned her over. Fonnie waved back and started toward her. It would be better to have someone to talk to, she thought, rather than sitting in a funk all by herself.

  “You been left alone like I have?” Fonnie asked as she pulled up a chair.

  “It's just as well. Edgar's not been fit company since Melanie's gone missing.” Lula sipped her drink and then quickly added, “And, of course, Keisha's disappearance has upset him greatly too. As it has me. I'm so sorry. Keisha was a nice kid.”

  Fonnie felt that Lula was being genuinely sympathetic. She appreciated it, but bristled at the past tense. “Keisha is a nice kid,” she said, “not was.”

  Lula's hand flew to her mouth. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm sure she'll be found soon.”

  Fonnie leaned back in her chair. “And I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's a bad time for all of us.” Her thoughts went to Tyrone. It had to be an especially hard time for him. She was glad Jeremiah had taken an interest in him.

  Lula's voice brought Fo
nnie's mind back from its wanderings. “As I was telling Stephon,” Lula said, “the two cases are different.”

  Fonnie jerked to attention. “When were you talking to Stephon? And why are the cases different?”

  “Stephon was wandering around like a lost puppy when the police got through with him. I offered him a drink and a listening ear. He refused the drink but spent ten minutes telling me how much he loved Keisha.” Lula paused. “Oops. I mean how much he loves Keisha—present tense.”

  “You think he's sincere?”

  “Yes, I do. I'm pretty good at reading men.” Lula gave Fonnie a rueful smile. “Which,” she went on, “can be a mixed blessing.”

  Fonnie let the enigmatic comment pass. “So what makes the two disappearances different?”

  “Whatever happened to Melanie was of her own doing. I don't mean she deliberately took a powder, but it was the result of an illicit rendezvous or something crooked. Unlike Keisha, she is not a nice person.”

  “And,” Fonnie said, “you think Keisha was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  Lula nodded. “Something like that.”

  “I take it you didn't like Melanie.”

  Lula drained her glass before answering. “She was a scheming, greedy, money-grabbing man-eater.” She gave a loud laugh. “And that was her good side.”

  Fonnie could tell Lula was definitely tipsy. Was her description of Melanie valid? Or was the alcohol exaggerating a case of marital jealousy? Maybe she should fan the flames a little more, Fonnie thought, and see what else came out. She put on her a naive expression. “But I had the idea that Edgar and Melanie were good friends.”

  “Hell, yes, they were good friends. Every time she'd come to Richmond the two of them were like cozy cousins.”

  “She came to Richmond often?”

  “Every few months. Supposedly to visit her dear Uncle Hank and go over her investments with Tony. But she always seemed to have some legal problem she had to discuss with Edgar—as if they didn't have lawyers in Miami. During her Christmas visit, they huddled together like they were planning a big business deal. I finally told her to shove off and leave my husband alone.” Lula swirled a single ice cube around in her glass. Fonnie could feel the pain in her voice as she said, “Edgar was furious with me.”