Jimmy Fernando was Brenda’s ex-boyfriend. He agreed to talk to Jemimah about Brenda and gave her directions to his place.
Jemimah drove up I-25 and turned onto Cherry Creek, where side-by-side Victorian brick houses were lined up in a neat row. She turned at Third Avenue, found the black mailbox with the numbers 1028, and turned into the driveway. The building was next to the Botanical Gardens in the Cherry Creek neighborhood, in the center of the ebb and flow of the mile-high city at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
Jimmy Fernando buzzed Jemimah in on the first ring of the doorbell. She walked up the steps to door number three where he stood and invited her into the living room. Jimmy was a sheet metal fabricator for a company on the outskirts of Denver, a robust, cheerful guy with hazel green eyes that had a mischievous glint. He was of medium height, maybe five-eight or so, with mostly brown hair. He must have been over thirty, but the heavily jelled blond streaks in his hair made him appear much younger. His arms were covered with tribal tattoos. His smile revealed a chipped front tooth.
The place was neat as a pin, much like he was. He wore a crisp white shirt, tan Dockers, and black cordovan loafers—hardly his work clothes. He motioned her over to the couch and offered coffee. From his living room you could see spectacular views of the mountains and the downtown Denver skyline.
“Mr. Fernando,” Jemimah said. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”
“Jimmy,” he said. “There’s probably not much I can tell you. I haven’t seen Brenda for over two years now.”
“Tell me a little about your relationship,” she said.
“Well, when I first met Brenda, I thought she was ‘the one.’ Smart, sweet, thoughtful, caring and a lot of fun to be around. We did everything together. About six months into the relationship, I noticed she was drinking a lot more, always wanting to go out and party, you know. Hey, I like to party as much as the next guy,” he laughed, “but I also have to get up in the morning and go to work.”
“Were you living together at the time?” she said.
“Yeah, we pretty much moved in together right away. I can see now that it wasn’t such a good idea. Our lifestyles were just too different. I wanted to settle down, she didn’t.”
“How long were you together?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe less than a year.
By that time she had become insanely jealous, giving me the third degree about everything I did, anyone I talked to. I had to constantly assure her that I loved her. She called me up at work just to ask if I loved her that particular day. At first I was flattered, but then it started to get a little over the top. I told her it wasn’t going to work out between us and she left. I think she rented an apartment somewhere in the Heights.”
“Did she have family in Denver?”
“No, she rarely mentioned family,” he said. “I think her parents might have been divorced, but she never went into detail.” He stirred cream and two sugars into his coffee. Jemimah smiled. He seemed like a pretty nice guy to be hooked up with someone as unpredictable as Brenda.
“So what happened after you broke up?”
“I didn’t see her for about two months and then she started showing up wherever I happened to be. Starbucks, lunch, the gym. She would just smile and wave. One night I was in a restaurant with Paula, a really nice woman I was thinking about starting up a relationship with. Brenda came out of nowhere, pulled up a chair and sat down. It was awkward. She introduced herself as my girlfriend and motioned to the waiter for a drink. Embarrassed, Paula excused herself and went to the powder room. I told Brenda she had to leave. She kept saying, ‘Why, Jimmy, why? We can work this out. Give me another chance.’ I promised I would call her, but I never did.”
“So what happened after that?” asked Jemimah.
“Brenda gets up to leave. Paula comes back and sits down. Brenda puts her hand on Paula’s wrist and starts screaming obscenities at her, calling her a slut. Then she grabs a steak knife from the table and lunges at her, hollering,
‘I’ll slit your throat, bitch.’ It took me and two of the waiters to bring her down. She didn’t stop screaming the entire time. The police came, arrested her, and I haven’t seen her since. I heard the Judge sentenced her to a loony bin somewhere in Colorado.”
“Did you press charges?” Jemimah could tell the conversation was difficult for him.
“No, but Paula did. She went down to the police station and filed a complaint. A couple of the waiters testified at the hearing. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to go to court.”
“What happened to Paula? Did Brenda frighten her away?”
“I never thought about that, but she probably did. We never had another date after that. I called her a couple of times but could never reach her. Can’t hardly blame her. Seems like she just dropped out of sight. Who knows, maybe she figured I was some kind of freak and didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Jemimah thought to herself that there might be more to it than that, but didn’t want to open up a can of worms with nothing more than a gut feeling about what might have really happened to Paula.
“Thank you, Jimmy,” she said. You’ve been a great help.”
“No problem,” he said, showing her to the door.