Thursday, June 21st, 2018
“So who is she again?” Kate asked as she parked in front of a blue house.
“Adrianna Johnston. She’s the woman who sells most of the rosaries at church fundraisers.”
“That Mary woman who teaches how to make the rosaries gave you her name?”
“Yep.”
“Did you look into her background, see if you could find a connection between Lori Davis and her?”
“I tried. Couldn’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a link.”
“Tell me more about her.”
“DMV gave this as her home address. Looked into her some more. She’s a single mother of a twenty-year-old named Jacob Johnston—still lives with her here.”
“Maybe the boy…”
“Maybe. His age makes him more likely to have something in common with Lori Davis. Or to at least know of her.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Kate said as she opened the door and stepped out of their unmarked vehicle. “You keep your eyes on the mother, I’ll keep mine on the son.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Rosebud and Kate patiently waited for Adrianna Johnston to return. She’d promised to bring her son upstairs to join them for coffee.
That had been ten minutes ago.
“What do you think?” Kate asked, getting up and peering out through the kitchen curtain next to her.
“She said her son has behavioral issues. I don’t think she’s running away from us—”
“I’ll be right there!” the woman yelled from downstairs.
Rosebud shrugged. “There you go.”
“What a waste of our time,” Kate muttered.
“I hear you. If only we had more leads to follow. I’ve had very little sleep these past few days. But no matter how I turn the situation around, I can’t think of anything. There’s no freaking DNA. No fingerprints. Nothing was found at the crime scene that didn’t belong to either the vic, her family, her boyfriend, or her BFF.”
“And our searches led to nothing on the last two.”
“So here we are.”
“Waiting for—”
“Sorry to have kept you waiting. Here’s my son, Jacob.”
Kate turned to look at the boy. His arms were crossed on his chest, his mouth stuck in a frown, his face red. “Say hi to the detectives, Son.”
A grunt came out of him.
“I’m so sorry.” She pushed him toward the table. “Have a seat, Jacob.” She looked up to the detectives. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee or something?”
The boy didn’t move. His mother moved the chair and then pushed his shoulders to guide him down toward his seat, then she pushed his chair closer to the table.
“Sure, coffee would be nice,” Rosebud said before Kate could turn the woman down.
“Fine. Make that two.” If the initial wait had anything to do with the upcoming interview, they could very well be here for hours.
“I have to apologize for my son. He’s not very sociable. I do my best to bring him to church functions so he can interact with people, but he really doesn’t enjoy socializing. All he wants to do is stay in the basement and play computer games. All day.”
Anger—or perhaps impatience and stress—punctuated her speech. Kate looked at the young man but didn’t dare ask aloud what disability he suffered from. The mother speaking not so kindly of her son in the third person while he was right there sure didn’t make Kate feel comfortable about their household dynamics.
“So, while the coffee is brewing, why don’t we start?” Adrianna suggested.
“Okay, then,” Rosebud replied, retrieving his notepad and pen. “Lori Davis. Does the name mean anything to you?”
Kate paid attention to the son, but he didn’t react any more than a brick wall would have. He hadn’t moved a hair. His face hadn’t twitched, he hadn’t even blinked.
“Jacob,” Kate asked, trying to get his attention.
Ms. Johnston exhaled loudly as she pressed a button. The first serving of coffee came out of the machine in front of her. “Please ignore him. He likes to stay in his head. Who’s Lori Davis? The name rings a bell.”
“She was found dead in her home last Sunday.”
“Oh! The young blonde woman from the news.”
Kate continued staring at the boy who remained motionless.
“Yeah. Her. Did you know her?” Rosebud pushed.
“No! But it’s quite sad what happened to her. Do you know who did it?”
“That’s what we’re investigating.”
“I don’t understand. What do my son and I have to do with her murder?”
“Because of the rosaries you sell at the fundraisers.”
“What? The church’s rosaries?”
“Yeah. The colorful knotted pieces of strings, like the one your son is wearing,” Kate noted, suddenly aware of the bright piece of yellow that was partly visible around the boy’s neck.
“May I?” Kate asked, moving her hand forward toward the boy.
“No! Better not,” Ms. Johnston said as she set the first cup of coffee on the table. “Let me get it for you.”
She knelt next to her son and made eye contact with him. “Jacob! Jacob. I need your rosary. I’m going to pull it over your head now. Okay?”
The boy began rocking back and forth on his chair, all the while shaking his head.
“I’m so sorry, Detective. Any chance I can give you another rosary? I’ve got a whole box worth. It’s just…” She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. “I can assure you that he and I have absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Lori Davis. But my son…” She crossed herself. “God bless his soul. He most certainly knows how to test my patience on a daily basis. Today’s a bad day. It’s like he’s in his own little world.”
“Where were you on Sunday, June 3rd?” Kate asked.
“I don’t recall off hand. Give me a second to get my calendar.”
The woman left the room, leaving Kate and Rosebud with the kid who’d finally stopped rocking and shaking his head.
“What do you think?” Rosebud asked.
Kate lifted her eyebrows. “I’m no doctor. Is he autistic?”
“No. I wasn’t talking about that. Is this your coffee or mine?”
“All yours.”
The woman’s footsteps echoed as she got closer again. “Here it is,” she said, holding a calendar filled with scribblings of various colors. “Oh, and where are my manners? I’m still missing one coffee. Coming right up. Have a look at my calendar. Everything’s written down on it, otherwise I’d forget. Jacob keeps me busy with all of his doctor appointments.”
“May I ask?” Kate started, not sure how to finish her sentence.
“About?”
“Your son,” Kate said, her eyes directed at the young man.
She pressed a button on her coffee maker and black liquid started pouring out. “The doctors don’t agree on what his condition really is. All we know is that the umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck at birth. He got some brain damage. The extent of which is yet to be determined. We’re trying all sorts of programs to see if we can reverse the damage. He’s not dangerous; he just requires a little extra care.”
“Any chance Jacob would have known Lori from school or some group activity they could have partaken in together?” Kate asked.
The mother shook her head. “No. I’m afraid his education has been lacking. Too many appointments with specialists. No time for group activities.”
“So, the calendar says you attended a fundraiser at a school on June 3rd. Is that right?” Rosebud asked.
“If the calendar says so, then it’s right.”
“Then you had a bunch of appointments on the days that followed. Do you mind if I make note of these appointments to confirm your whereabouts?”
“I have nothing to hide. Do what you need to do.”
“And your son?” Kate asked.
“I take him with me to all the fundraisers. And all of the doctor appointments are for him.”
Kate glanced at the calendar. Not a single day was blank. “Do you mind if I ask how you can afford to pay for his medical bills?”
“Fortunately, Jacob’s dad was a wealthy man.” Ms. Johnston offered Kate her cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, where’s my head? Do either of you take sugar or milk?”
“Black’s fine,” Kate said as she grabbed the cup before repeating the last four words she’d voiced before talking about coffee.
“Yes. He left us.”
“For another woman?” Rosebud asked between sips.
“No. For the bearded man in the sky.”
Kate looked at Rosebud while thinking of a possible motive the woman or her son could have had to kill Lori Davis.
“Sorry, that wasn’t a very straight-forward answer, but Jacob reacts to certain words, so I’ve learned not to use them whenever I can.”
“No problem,” Kate said, half smiling as she considered where they stood. Asking the woman for her box of rosaries would result in days’ worth of analysis with little to no possibility of getting anything out of it. They would be better off putting cameras at the back of every church and during each fundraiser to record who bought them. But that also had its flaws. They couldn’t record the past.
“Do you remember one person buying several rosaries at once?” Kate asked.
“Yes. Quite a few, actually. We sell them for just two dollars each during fundraisers and they are pay-what-you-can at the back of the churches where they’re sold.”
“Thanks,” Kate said.
“Do you mind if I ask you one question, Detective?” the woman asked Kate.
“Sure.”
“Do you know Luke O’Brien? Marjorie’s son?”
Kate hadn’t seen that question coming. “Why would you ask that?” She felt her cheeks flush.
“So, you’re the competition.”
“I’m not following,” Rosebud said, his eyes going from one woman to the other.
“I met your guy a few days ago. At a fundraiser, actually. Good-looking man you have.”
Kate didn’t want to even acknowledge the woman’s latest statement, so she got up and closed her notepad. “We got the answers we needed. Thanks so much for your time.”
“What the heck was that?” Rosebud said as they walked back to the car.
“Which part?”
“The abrupt end? You’re the competition? The weird kid?”
“Whatever. None of my business,” Kate said as she pulled open the driver’s door.
Rosebud opened the passenger door and sat down.
“Well,” Kate continued, “none of my business if her whereabouts and her son’s check out. Can you look into those, please?” She inserted the key into the ignition.
“The two of them didn’t strike me as a murderous duo, but I’ll check everything.”
“The thought of asking for her box of rosaries crossed my mind, but we don’t have the time or budget to analyze them all. If you can’t confirm their alibis, then we can reconsider.”
“Agree.”
“Let’s hope Wang or Chainey made more progress than we did with the friends they spoke to.”