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Four Days Later
A lanky, average-height man with translucent skin, peeked out the room at the Bay Bridge Boarding House. “May I help you?” His dull-green eyes scanned Winston and then protruded out their sockets when he saw Connie. “Hello.” He widened the door, his gaze falling upon her.
“We’re Detectives Winston Lewis and Connie Wilks.” Winston flashed his badge to the man. “Homicide. Are you CeCe Babbitt?”
He stepped out the door, barefoot in wrinkled jeans and a faded, gray T-shirt. “You’re the detectives on Prisha’s case.”
Winston put away his badge. “We’d like to speak to you for a moment if that’s okay.”
CeCe wiggled his skinny, pink toes against the threshold. “Am I in trouble?”
Connie smiled. “We need to clarify something and we’d appreciate your cooperation.”
CeCe’s face lit up when he looked at Connie. “Your eyes are pretty.” He snickered, rocking. “They’re green like mine.”
She batted as she looked at Winston. “Yes, they are.”
“Can we come in?” Winston pointed inside his room.
CeCe hesitated and then stepped aside, rubbing his backside.
Winston entered the cozy room after Connie, the aroma of corn chips and grape juice smacking him in the face.
Connie took her notepad out and sat on the lavender, floral spread on the queen sized bed. “How old are you, Mr. Babbitt?”
He smiled as if she’d asked him on a date. “Thirty. How old are you?”
She winked. “Late thirties and that’s all you’re getting from me.”
CeCe’s smile got even bigger.
“We got Prisha’s diary when we searched her room.” Winston crossed his arms. “She wrote a lot about you, CeCe.”
“She did?” He leaned forward, his eyes dancing out their sockets. “I’m surprised.”
Connie glanced at Winston while jotting. “That means a lot to you?”
CeCe dialed back the excitement as if he noticed the officers’ suspicion. “Just surprising.”
“You liked her a lot didn’t you?” Winston asked.
CeCe looked away.
“It’s okay if you liked her,” Connie said. “No harm in that.”
“Prisha was very, very pretty. Had that long, thick black hair and that mole right under her bottom lip.” CeCe pointed to a spot on his face. “On the left. It was so small you could hardly see it.”
Winston and Connie exchanged glances.
“She was from Telengana in South India.” CeCe looked at the dome light in the middle of the ceiling. “I’d never heard of it until she mentioned it.”
“She spoke to you about where she was from?” Connie pointed her pencil at him.
“No, I overheard her talking to a lady at the boarding house.”
“Hm.” Winston faked a smile. “Is that what you do...listen to people?”
“Prisha fascinated me. I wanted to know more about her culture and the things she liked.”
Winston wandered toward the sliding door of the semi-private balcony. “How often did you speak to Prisha?”
CeCe’s animated expression disappeared. “A few times.”
Connie said. “Did Prisha not like you or something?”
“We didn’t talk much.”
“It’s funny because in her diary...” Winston tapped his chin. “Prisha says you were bothering her. That you kept asking her out and wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“No,” he blurted as if he were a child caught in a lie. “I asked her out about twice and that was it.”
Winston shook his head. “Prisha wrote different.”
“You kept asking her out,” Connie said. “She kept saying no, and she found you weird.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” CeCe rolled his eyes. “Everyone thinks I’m weird because I stay in my room and only go to work. I’m not weird.” He walked to his desktop computer on the table by the refrigerator. “I’m an introvert.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Connie said. “Just saying what Prisha wrote.”
“I didn’t kill Prisha.” CeCe sat in the wooden chair by the table, gaze on the indigo-blue carpet.
“Where do you work?” Winston asked.
“The office supply store on Circa Street. Work from ten to five. I’m the assistant manager.”
“The medical examiner believes Prisha was killed between midnight and three a.m. Monday morning,” Winston said. “Do you have an alibi?”
“I was here asleep.” CeCe grimaced. “I go to bed around ten. You can ask the other tenants and they’ll say I was here.”
“Okay.” Connie stood, straightening the bedspread. “We will.”
****
“Mr. Banerjee, it’s so nice to meet you.” Winston took Prisha’s father’s hand as soon as he and Connie walked into the interrogation room.
“Please, call me Nilan.” He had a firm, baritone voice that suggested power and authority.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Connie said. “We’re doing everything we can to find out what happened to Prisha.”
“I appreciate that.” Nilan stood as tall as Winston did with bronze skin and big eyes. His thick, swarthy hair drew notice to his square forehead. “Prisha was my angel. My only child.”
Winston pulled a chair out for him. “Please, sit down.”
Nilan and Connie sat while Winston remained standing.
“I’m trying to keep it together.” He made fists with his colossal hands. “But, no one can prepare for such a tragedy.”
Connie reached across the table and took his hand. “We heard Prisha visited you in Minnesota recently?”
He nodded while taking a tissue out his shirt pocket. “We made amends.”
“Amends?” Winston inquired.
“We grew apart some years back because I thought she was going down the wrong track. She’d gotten involved with that cult.” He wiped the wet spot under his nose. “The Circle.”
Winston sighed.
“I knew Jonathan Wild was dangerous.” Nilan’s ebony eyes shifted behind his square glasses. “I forbid her to have anything to do with him, but she chose him and that cult over her family. He did this.” He stabbed his crooked finger into the table. “I know it.”
“Accusing is one thing,” Winston said. “Proof and motive is another.”
“He’s possessive.” Nilan glanced up at Winston. “Once you’re a part of his group, he feels he owns you for life. Prisha gave up everything for him but she got pregnant and he kicked her out like she was nothing. It wasn’t until she was homeless with no one to turn to that she came to her senses.” He sobbed, holding his fist to his mouth. “I begged her not to come back here. She said she wanted to confront him because she blamed him for her losing the baby. I knew something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect her to be dead.” He sat back, sniffling. “He brainwashed my baby and turned her into something I couldn’t recognize. Jonathan Wild has to be stopped before he ruins more lives.”
Winston ran his hand through his hair, pushing Dee’s image from his mind. “Other than Jonathan is there anyone else you think would hurt her?”
“No.” He breathed through his wide nostrils. “He did it and he won’t get away with it as long as I’m here.”
“Mr. Banerjee,” Connie said. “I’ll caution you not to threaten Mr. Wild.”
“It’s not a threat but a promise.” He stood. “I’m not leaving Baltimore until I find out what happened to Prisha.”
“You need to let us handle this,” Winston said. “I understand you wanna do all you can for your daughter—”
“If Jonathan had his hooks into someone you cared about...” He poked Winston’s chest. “Would you just sit back?”
Winston moved his lips in and out. “No.”
“I can’t either. I didn’t protect Prisha from that monster when she was alive, but I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done now.” He went to the door. “I’ll be at the hotel on West Chelsea Boulevard if you need me. Room eleven.”
Winston frowned. “Isn’t it hard staying over there when it was the last place your daughter was?”
“That’s why I want to be there.” Nilan’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Makes me feel close to her.”
“How long do you plan on being in town?” Connie asked.
Nilan answered on his way out, “For as long as it takes.”