Before he could think of a way to smooth over the moment, Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah, Tamara’s my wife.”
Barrington nodded. “It’s real nice of her to help out the families.” There, that was simple. And platonic.
“Yeah, that’s her. Always thinking about other people. She’s a sweetheart,” he said, his voice completely flat. Barrington agreed with that assessment, but no good would have come from him verbalizing it. Instead, he said nothing. Tony began to tap his foot under the table, ever so slightly. The energy in the room had clearly changed, and Barrington was uncomfortable.
“Alright man, well that’s all I need from you.” He stood up to underscore the point. Tony followed suit and the two shook again. This time, Tony’s grip was much more firm. He looked Barrington directly in the eye. “I’ll be sure to let my wife know you’ll be in touch.”
BARRINGTON CHECKED his watch. Only 12:37. It felt like he had worked a full day already. What’s worse, he was frustrated. He had let himself get so flustered with Antonio Johnston that he was unable to focus and he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much. And then there was the case. There was nothing new and he was pretty sure Jeneice would be dead soon if she wasn’t already. He had asked Wilson for details and had gotten the equivalent of a pat on the head. If they knew something, they weren’t sharing it with him.
He decided to eat lunch at 1. Fallon had packed his box with the barbecue chicken, macaroni and cheese, and green beans. Green beans. He shook his head at the thought. All of a sudden she was on a health kick and had taken to substituting with healthier options. Instead of collards, he got green beans. Instead of cornbread, he got wheat rolls. Instead of French fries, he got roasted potato wedges. It was like ordering a bacon cheeseburger combo with a diet coke. What was the point?
He was still going to eat it, though. She meant well.
He glanced at his watch again. 12:42. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to make it.
“Dunn! Wake your ass up!”
It was Price. Of course. “What is it, sir?” he asked, clearly unhappy. Price was unmoved. He had one of those punchable faces, the kind that always looked disingenuous.
“They found a second body at the original site.”
“I figured they would as soon as I saw that second set of clothes,” Barrington answered.
“Yeah. She’s with the ME. We should have an ID soon. Let’s hope they can come up with some DNA because if not, we got nothing. But that’s not why I’m here. Where are you at on the Bernard fella?”
“Nowhere, really. He has priors, only one violent, but it was a man. The only thing we have to go on is his sister’s word and that he has a dark-colored sedan. That ain’t much.”
“Alright, send me what you have and we’ll pull him up.”
“Who’s doing the interrogation?”
“Probably Wilson.”
“I think I should be there, too.”
Price hesitated before stepping all the way in and closing the door. Dunn sat up straight and braced himself. “Dunn, listen. I think you’re doing a bang-up job. But you need to remember something. You are a robbery detective, not homicide. You have certain skills that are tantamount to this investigation, but they don’t include interrogation.”
You mean paramount. “I understand.”
“Good. I knew you would. And listen, you have some leeway here.” Price lowered his voice, despite being the only other person in the room. “We’re not asking you to sit on the sidelines and do nothing, okay? You’re our voice in the community, but you’re also a hell of an investigator. Beat the bushes, man. Do your thing. Just don’t let your thing interfere with our thing.”
Barrington’s lips turned up at the corners, just a bit, until something resembling a smile appeared on his face. “I have leeway?”
Price looked like he regretted it already. “A little.”
“Got it. I appreciate it.”
“You’re a good man, Dunn.”
“Yeah, you too.”
THE FIRST THING BARRINGTON did with his leeway was take an extra-long lunch. He sat in his car, not wanting to be in that office another second. He flipped through radio stations with barbecue-stained fingers, unsatisfied by the trite foolishness that passed for music these days. What happened to romance? Luther, Teddy, and Marvin. Tammy and Nancy and Minnie. Folks who understood relationships, love, and sex, and how to get them and appreciate them. He wondered what happened to real music, and then he realized he was old.
Some men his age were young-minded, and he debated whether or not that was a good thing before deciding he was better off. He didn’t need sports cars or shiny rims or 50 pairs of Jordans acting as proxies for his youth. Being young was overrated.
Two admins walked past his car. They smiled and waved and he returned the gestures. They liked Barrington because he opened doors for them to walk through and let them get in and out of the elevator first and addressed them as “ladies.” He was never gruff or dismissive like some of the other officers. They seemed to think he was special and that confused him. He was raised to behave that way. It was normal.
Nowadays you had to be careful, though. Some women found that kind of thing offensive. All of the admins were black and he’d never had any problems with them, but he’d found himself in a precinct-wide training session about respect and gender discrimination after he offered to help carry boxes for a young, white female records clerk.
Times had certainly changed.
He finished off his Pepsi, sacrilegious behavior in Coke country, and walked to the building next door. He’d never had any reason to visit the medical examiner’s office but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Everywhere I go, I belong.
Almost the entire interior of the building was made of shiny metal and glass. It couldn’t have been more than sixty-five degrees and he was thankful he had worn his jacket. The cold air seemed to bounce off of the metal and get more frigid. An impersonal metal kiosk stand told him to go to the eighth floor.
He walked right past the smiling receptionist who didn’t bother questioning him and went straight into the laboratory. He was greeted by a doctor, a dead body, and a familiar face.
“Dunn?” asked Boone. “What brings you here?”
“Price told me about the second set of remains. I came by to see if there was any news.”
“Oh. Okay,” he said, sounding both surprised and put upon. “Well let me introduce you to this ugly fellow here.”
The ugly fellow laughed behind his goggles. Barrington had seen him in court before.
Boone continued. “Barrington Dunn, this is Dr. Tyler Tanner. Is that not the most douchebag name you’ve ever heard?”
Barrington laughed, not entirely sure which one of them Boone was referring to. “Good to meet you, Dr. Tanner.”
“You, as well.”
Boone turned his attention back to Barrington. “So Price sent you over?”
I belong. “Nope.”
“I see,” he said as he looked Barrington up and down. Tyler Tanner may have had a douchebag name, but Boone had the personality to match. He was a good old boy through and through.
“So what can you tell me so far?” asked Barrington.
“Well,” said Dr. Tanner, “manner of death is homicide which won’t be news to you. Cause is likely to be manual strangulation but that’s not official yet.”
Boone looked at Barrington and smiled. “Just might be one of ours.”
Barrington ignored him. His eyes were drawn to the body, if it could even be called that. It was swollen with large areas that had turned completely black. There was some hair, obviously that of a person of African descent, but no facial features to speak of.
“So if you had to guess,” said Boone, “which girl would you say this is? My money’s on Renee Washington.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Look at this,” said Boone. He pulled two glossy eight-by-ten photographs from a manila envelope
and shoved them in Barrington’s face. “What does that tattoo say? If you can make it out.”
It was hard to tell. The skin was so discolored the ink barely showed. Through squinted eyes, Barrington made out what looked like a J, A, and D. “I can’t tell.”
“Alright, look here. That’s a J, there’s an A, and then right there next to that is a Y. The D is clear, but that last letter is almost invisible. It’s gotta be an A. And what does that spell?”
“Jayda.” He thought for a moment before the realization hit. “Shit. That was her daughter, right?”
“Bingo. Why do people get their kids’ names tattooed on anyway? To keep from forgetting?” Boone laughed at his own stupid joke and Dr. Tanner gave a polite chuckle that only seemed to spur him on. “And listen, I’m not judging or anything, but why the Y? J-A-D-A is a perfectly good, normal spelling of that name. Am I right?”
Barrington shrugged. “I guess, man.”
“Hey doc, get this. I once got called to a scene. Two twins shot and killed. You know what their names were? Lemonjello and Oranjello. Apparently, their mom liked the dessert at the hospital.”
Barrington laughed along with the two men and Boone hit him on the shoulder. “See, that’s funny, right?”
“Not really. I was laughing because you’re like the fifth person I’ve heard tell that story.”
Dr. Tanner looked up from the body. Boone’s smile faded. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m saying it’s made up. An urban legend.”
“No, it’s not. It’s true,” Boone said.
“It’s alright. I’m not judging.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Not at all. I’m saying you repeated a story that somebody made up. Like the hook-handed stalker or the killer calling from inside the house. It’s a myth.”
Boone’s mustache twitched on his bright red face. “It’s a true story. It actually happened, man.”
“Okay cool, so if I go next door and search the database, I’ll find the dead Jell-O twins in one of your reports?”
Out of the corner of Barrington’s eye, he could see Dr. Tanner’s shoulders bouncing up and down as he giggled to himself.
Boone shifted on his stool. “It should be in there. If it’s not, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Barrington could have embarrassed Boone further but decided it was enough for one day. He made a mental note to check the database one day, just for fun.
He turned his attention back to the woman on the table. Renee Washington was the young mother. Jayda wasn’t even one year old yet, just a little bit younger than his Taylor. The thought worried him. Who was going to mother that baby?
He wondered who would get the news about Renee. Her mother? Father? He realized he didn’t know much about her family, or any of the families. It wasn’t really his job to learn but as the liaison, it was the right thing to do.
Each of the families had submitted hair samples and dental records. They were all undoubtedly waiting by their phones, sick and filled with dread, waiting for the call that would change their lives.
“Dr. Tanner, how long until you can make a positive identification?” Barrington asked.
“Shouldn’t be long. I have dentals so it should take me a day or two to get through those.”
Barrington looked at Boone and had a thought. “Do me a favor. Make sure you include me on any correspondence. I’ll likely be doing the notification so I should know when you know.” Boone frowned but said nothing.
“You got it, boss,” Dr. Tanner replied, flashing a genuine smile at Barrington.
I belong.
Chapter 21
HE TRIED TO SNEAK PAST Price’s office but to no avail. The red-faced man waved Barrington in as he cradled his phone on his shoulder. Barrington sat and waited to see if Boone had already reported his movements.
“Alright. Keep me posted,” Price said into the phone before hanging up. The office smelled of old coffee and bug spray. Price spoke first. “So how was your lunch?”
“It was fine. Productive,” said Barrington coolly.
Price smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
Barrington returned the smile but said nothing. As usual, Price couldn’t bear the silence.
“I heard from Wilson. Andre has an alibi.”
“Oh yeah?”
“His wife backed him up.”
“She credible?”
“Who knows?”
“Well, that’s that. No more Andre.”
“Bye-bye, Andre.” Price spread his hands. “Better now than later.” He was right. It was better to clear him early than spend weeks, or even months building a case only to have it fall apart.
Barrington tapped his foot. His wheels were turning. “What about his sister?”
Price furrowed his brow. “You feel like there’s something there?”
“Yeah, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Why don’t you call her in? You’d get to see her again.”
Barrington looked up. “What does that mean?”
Price grinned and put his hands up in faux surrender. “Nothing, man. Nothing. It’s just...I’ve heard tell of some things relating to you and a pretty young woman.”
Barrington shook his head. Who would be talking about that? Nobody had even seen them together. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“How’s Fallon doing? Are things...back to normal?”
Barrington sighed. “We’re getting there.”
“THANK YOU FOR MEETING with me, Mrs. Johnston,” he said with a warm smile. She smiled back but there was sadness behind her eyes. He had forgotten what she looked like after seeing her at the rally so he put his investigative skills to work. He hadn’t been able to find her online which struck him as odd. No social media presence, no articles, no online resume. She was like a ghost. But it had all come rushing back to him when she entered his office. She was as pretty as he remembered but she looked tired. Worn down, even.
“No problem. You can call me Tamara. Mrs. Johnston is my mother-in-law.”
Barrington chuckled politely. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie before she came in. He wanted to make sure the vibe was relaxed and non-confrontational. She wasn’t a suspect or even a person of interest and he wanted that to be clear. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and she sat down, crossing her feet at the ankle.
“You want some water or coffee or anything?” he offered.
“No, I’m fine.”
Yes, you are.
“Ok. Well just let me know.” He smiled again. “Aren’t you wondering why I asked you to come see me?”
“Not really. I figured it was about the cases.”
“Right. I wanted to let you know that we cleared your brother.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“How do you feel about that?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled as she spoke. “I guess I don’t feel anything. I figure you gentlemen know more than I do. If you say he’s innocent, he must be innocent.”
Her demeanor struck him as odd. “I didn’t necessarily say he was innocent.”
“Well, what are you saying?”
“At this time, we don’t have any evidence against him and can’t find a credible connection between him and the crimes.” He watched her closely, looking for a reaction.
“I see.” She looked down at her fingers, which were circling each other slowly.
“You don’t seem happy about that,” he said.
“I’m not happy or unhappy. I thought it was him, it’s not, and still, nobody has any answers for the families.”
“I don’t mean to overstep and get into your family business but I get the feeling you two aren’t close.”
“No, we’re not. I guess it probably seems weird to you that I would try to get my brother in trouble but I really thought he did it.”
Barrington leaned forward towards Tamara and put his elbo
ws on his knees. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Family calls in family all the time. Even spouses. We always say the best snitch is a scorned ex-girlfriend.” She smiled at that. He continued. “Andre doesn’t appear to be the perpetrator in this case, but there must be a reason you thought he was.”
“Yes, I already told—”
“No, no, I mean beyond what you told me before. You thought the sketch looked like him and his car matches. I know all that. But I think it goes past that for you. Right?”
She looked down at her hands again, which were shaking in her lap. She clasped them together so tightly that the beds of her nails turned white under her clear polish. “What are you asking me?”
He inched his chair a little closer to hers. “I’m asking you to tell me the truth about Andre.”
She closed her eyes. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She finally began, her eyes still squeezed shut. “When I was about 13, there was a little girl on my street named Leah. She was a couple of years younger than me. We weren’t best friends or anything but we played in the same group of friends in the neighborhood. She went missing and was found dead in the woods near my house.”
Of Things Unseen Page 17