Andrea
Gloria looked at me with a sad face. “I’m not going to say I told you so. You know why not?”
“Thank you for bringing me my purse, Gloria, and it’s good of you to spare my feelings. You must not be feeling well,” I teased.
“Because that would be lowbrow and petty and as downtrodden as you look right now, I know you don’t need to hear it.”
“I’m not that downtrodden. Can I get you anything?” We were at my place. I’d changed from my Christmas day finery into blue jeans and a sweatshirt. I had my wineglass in hand.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” Gloria had on an expensive black pants suit, accessorized perfectly. She’d interrupted her Christmas celebration for me.
I toasted the air. “Merry Christmas! Gloria, guess what I saw—I mean what else I saw?” She already knew about the kiss. I had explained that when I had called and asked her to go get my purse from Benjamin’s house.
“What else? You’re having a lottery winning kind of day. Tell all.”
“I saw a Camry like the one Mrs. Tuddle described. It’s Cecil’s!”
“Get out! Cecil’s car?” She sank down on my couch to consider this. “Cecil Chambers,” she repeated, biting her lower lip in thought.
I sat on the coffee table in front of her, sipping wine.
“Andi, thought you said you asked Ben about cars back in the summer?”
“I did, but I was casual about it on purpose. I didn’t want him to think I suspected him or his family.”
“You never asked him if he knew someone who drove an early 90s dark-colored Camry?”
“No, I never phrased it that way.”
Gloria crossed her legs and let the top one swing a few seconds. “Carolyn and Cecil, what was up between them?”
“I don’t think there was anything between them. She knew him. You know he’s Sharon’s boyfriend.”
“Yeah, he owns that bookstore—The Griot?”
“His family owns it.”
“Access to cash then. Does he get high?”
“Seems pretty straight-laced to me. More of a health nut than someone who does recreational drugs, but I don’t know him that well.”
I watched her twist her mouth in continued thought. “Maybe it was a love affair gone bad?”
“I sat next to Gloria on the couch and put my feet on the coffee table. “Between him and Carolyn? No way. The way he fawns over Sharon? Little chance of that. Besides, I would’ve known about it.”
“We have to look at the circle of people around Cecil,” Gloria said.
“Yeah, you’re right. Who would Cecil lend his car to?” Sharon, of course.
“What about his family and friends?”
I emptied my glass and set it on a coaster. “He’s got a grandfather retired to Lake Carlyle. Friends?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. That’s the black hole that will prevent us from getting anywhere, unless we just ask him. ‘Hey Cecil, who do you let borrow your car?’ Think that would work?”
No doubt reading my expression, she said, “Don’t get discouraged, Andi. What’s Sharon’s alibi for the night Carolyn was murdered?”
“I don’t know. How can I find out what she did ten months ago?”
“Good point. And I’m sure Detective Peck and company didn’t bother to question her.”
“I’m sure he didn’t either—no reason to.”
Gloria looked at me, her bright-eyed enthusiasm newly ignited. “We still have the popcorn clue.”
“Yeah, you mean find the popcorn bag and get a fingerprint? After all this time? It would take a miracle.”
“Or, some really good detectives?”
“You mean … us?”
“Why not? You’ve given Peck his chance. We backed off like he requested, now we have to get involved again.”
“Popcorn? I don’t know, Gloria. Everybody eats popcorn. And what about the neighborhood being dangerous?”
“Oh, come on. It’s Christmas Day. Even the bad guys are at their mama’s cribs getting their eat on. Besides, I don’t want you stewing about Benjamin. Let’s shake something and see what falls loose.”
She was probably right. Still, I resisted because Peck’s picture of electricity-deprived hooligans had scared me. “But, BJ’s in Jefferson City. We had more luck when there were three Angels instead of two.”
“Stop fretting. We can do this. Come on.”
“We could talk to Mrs. Freelon again,” I relented. “Take her some oatmeal raisin cookies and see if Dale Edward is back, even though the police already spoke with him. He might remember something more for us.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
* * *
Christmas lights blazed and blinked on a few houses. Mrs. Freelon’s was one of them. Otherwise, things seemed quiet on the block.
“Hold these.” I gave Gloria the cookie tin on the way up Mrs. Freelon’s steps as I pulled out my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Detective Peck. It just occurred to me that no one knows where we are. I’m going to leave him a message, just in case … you know, something happens.”
“Let me leave it.” Gloria gave me the tin and took the phone. “Detective Peck, this is Gloria Wellborn, a friend of Carolyn Young. You might recall Ms. Young was the woman murdered on Vernon Avenue ten months ago. Her case is still open. Her sister, Andrea, and I are here following up on some leads. Holler back when you get a chance.”
She handed me the phone and flashed her “that’s how it’s done” smile.
Unable to locate the doorbell near Mrs. Freelon’s door, we knocked and waited.
“The lot is cleaner than it was.” I gestured toward the empty lot next to Mrs. Freelon’s house.
“Yeah, maybe the city sponsored a clean up your crack neighborhood campaign since we’ve been here last.”
Just as we were about to knock a second time, we could hear a slow advance coming toward the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Gloria and Andrea, Mrs. Freelon. We spoke with you this summer,” Gloria reminded her.
Mrs. Freelon cracked open her door, a puzzled and wary look crossed her face. “This summer? What y’all want?”
“We wanted to thank you. We talked to Mrs. Tuddle like you suggested, and she gave us some helpful information about that night my sister was murdered.”
She opened the door all the way now. She had on a housecoat, her wig was on crooked, and this time I noticed she walked with a cane. I held out the tin. “I brought you some cookies.”
“Oh, thank you.” Her smile went straight from her lips to her eyes. She took the tin. “I remember you, but where is that nice young man that was with you before?”
“He’s out of town,” Gloria said.
“Y’all out visiting on Christmas Day? That’s nice. Wish I could get out and about. Well, don’t stand there. Come on in, it’s cold out there. Take off your coats and sit a spell. Since I can’t get out, I’m glad for the company.”
Perfect lead in. “Did Dale Edward come back yet?” The dim light in the living room could not conceal the shabbiness of her furniture, but there was not a rug fringe out of place, and her wood floors sparkled.
“Yes, yes he did. He’s out running the streets now. “‘Spect to see him some time in the morning. All Dale Edward knows is party this, party that.” Mrs. Freelon lowered herself in an armchair with a plop and a sigh. “That’s all he wants to do with his life. That and play those computer games all day long.”
“How old is he?” Gloria asked while I savored the smell of greens and corn bread and told my stomach not to growl.
“Dale Edward just turned twenty-three last month. What kind of cookies are these? I can eat one or two, but I gotta watch my sugar.”
“Those are oatmeal raisin,” I said.
“Oatmeal raisin. Might save ‘em for breakfast in the morning.” She set the tin on an end table. It shared the space with a small Christmas tree with twinkling lights.
“We were hoping to talk to Dale Edward. See what he saw, if anything, the day Carolyn was murdered,” I said.
“Oh, well, leave me something with your phone number on it so I can give to him. I can’t keep up with him. I wish he’d find something to do with his life other than run the streets, but he’s a good boy. He put my Christmas lights up for me outside.”
“He did a nice job,” Gloria said and I agreed.
“He keeps the kitchen spic and span. Even helps me with that old nasty lot over there.” She tilted her head.
“What do you mean? He picks up trash off the lot?” Gloria asked. The sun began to rise in Gloria’s face, but I didn’t know why. Did she think Dale Edward would remember picking up a popcorn bag and even if he did, February to December was a longtime ago. Any trace of it would be far gone by now.
Mrs. Freelon massaged her left knee like it was sore. “I’d do it, don’t nobody want to put up with all that trash right next door, but with this leg, I can’t be bending down. I told Dale Edward to get up all that trash and to be careful. He showed me a needle he found in that grass one time.” She shook her head. “These drugs has been the ruination of a whole generation.” She pursed her lips in disgust. “Umph umph umph.”
“How often is the trash picked up?” I asked.
“You mean by the city? They come and empty the Dumpster once a week.”
Anything found on the lot in February would be long gone. I envisioned mountains of slimy trash some place. I could almost smell it. I hoped Gloria didn’t think either of us were up to taking that on.
“You looking for something on that lot?” Mrs. Freelon asked.
“A popcorn bag.”
A popcorn bag? Umph, Well, seeing as how Dale Edward just got back last week, and he’s been gone since last Easter, that trash you talking bout might still be sitting out there in the can, believe it or not.”
Gloria and I spoke at the same time, “What can?”
The trashcan on the side of the house. Metal can.”
“We didn’t see a can out there.”
“It’s further up in the gangway. It sits there til it’s full enough to dump.”
“Full enough to dump,” I repeated, half way out of my chair. “Mrs. Freelon, could we take a look?” Even while I asked, I knew it sounded ridiculous. Trash left in a can over ten months? That would be the miracle we’d been seeking.
“Y’all gonna get out there as cold as it is, sorting through trash?”
“Yes, ma’am. It could be a link to her sister’s murder.”
“Well, I got one pair of Platex gloves I can let you borrow. I seen ‘em do this kind of job on TV on those cops shows. You can’t touch nothing directly. It will mess up the evidence and the court will throw it out.”
“Good point, Mrs. Freelon,” Gloria said. “Andi, call Detective Peck and tell him I said to come out and look through the can for us.”
“It’s Christmas Day, Gloria. We can see if we can find it, then call him.” The three of us were standing, plotting.
“Uh-uh.” Gloria shook her head. “He’s liable to say we planted it ourselves or something. I’ll call him. Give me your phone.” She took it, pushed redial, then listened and pushed buttons, no doubt activating his emergency beeper.
“The police is coming out?” Mrs. Freelon let out a gleeful cackle. “I was sitting here feeling a little sorry for myself because my days are so boring even if it is Jesus’s birthday.” She shuffled on her bad hip toward the kitchen. She came right back. “Take these gloves, but don’t start ‘til I get back. I’m a go fix my face case this ‘tective wants to interview me.”
Detective Peck called back in three minutes. He made me tell him three times why I had called. I was trying to think of how to rephrase it the fourth time when Gloria snatched the phone. She reminded him he was the lead investigator on a cold murder case, and unless he wanted the media to hear our desperate Christmas Day story, he would get here within the next twenty minutes.
Gloria handed me my phone back. “You are too nice sometimes, Andi. All that time he wasted talking, Peck’s butt could have been here.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Peck arrived and we showed him the trashcan. “Ladies, all I can say is that this better be damn good.” He glared at both of us. “Where’s the third party in this popcorn bag seeking trio?”
“I’m up here, ‘tective.” Mrs. Freelon leaned over her porch and waved. “Ask me anything you want to know.”
Detective Peck jumped, obviously startled at the unexpected voice from above. Gloria and I tried not to laugh at his reaction. We knew he had been referring to BJ.
“Hold this,” he handed Gloria his flashlight, giving her a steely-eyed stare in the process. “I’m going to dump it. Stand back, might be rats, roaches, or all the above. Don’t touch anything.”
“Here ‘tective,” Mrs. Freelon’s voice reigned down once again. “Take one of my old canes case you need to push that mess around to see what’s what.” Mrs. Freelon leaned over her porch and lowered it down.
Winston Peck accepted the cane with a thank you.
Crap spilled forth. Ripe baby diapers were on top, soon to share the spotlight with beer and wine bottles, scrunched pizza boxes, and water bugs two inches long scurried as fast as fat water bugs can scurry. More fast food wrappers, newspapers, plastic bags from Walgreens, empty cigarette packages, used condoms, what looked like elementary school math papers, but no popcorn bag.
“We had to look,” I said, more disappointed than I realized I would be.
“Yeah, we did,” Gloria said.
Detective Peck didn’t say anything as he began to rapidly replace the items in the can. We watched silently, knowing we had to wait until he was finished and listen to him fuss. When he got to the plastic bag, he stood straight up, untied the bag and looked inside.
“Bingo ladies. Looks like we’ve hit pay dirt.”
I walked up to him to look at what he pulled out of the bag. There it was, our microwave popcorn bag. It looked like gold to me. I grinned at him.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Gloria said.
Mrs. Freelon clapped. Gloria and I watched him put it in an evidence bag.
“How long does it take to process for fingerprints?” I asked. If Carolyn’s were on it, we were definitely on the right track.
“Three days to two weeks. Depends on what they are up against and how difficult it is to process. Being in this plastic bag probably helped preserve any usable prints.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, well, I’ll wait to hear from you.”
He nodded.
I walked back up the porch steps and returned the borrowed cane to Mrs. Freelon who was still standing there, watching us.
“That popcorn bag was sho nuf in that can. My Lord. You and your friends are welcome to stay and have Christmas dinner with me.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Freelon. That is such a wonderful invitation. Let me check with them.”
When I came back down, Gloria was saying goodnight.
“Mrs. Freelon has invited us to join her for Christmas dinner.”
“Mrs. Freelon,” Detective Peck said, “I would love to stay, but I have a previous engagement. Thank you for your help tonight. Good citizens like you make our job easier.” If he wore a hat, I’m sure he would have tipped it.
Mrs. Freelon’s smile put the half-moon to shame. I hope Peck appreciated her freshly rouged cheeks.
“Ladies.” He nodded at Gloria and me, then left.
“Those greens were smelling good, Mrs. Freelon. What else are we having?” Gloria asked.
“Child, I got some fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, and some lemon meringue pie for dessert.”
Gloria and I raced each other up the stairs.
Mrs. Freelon refused to let us lift a hand to help her get the food on the table. In fact, she insisted we have a glass of her “special occasion” spirits. She put ice in our glasses, then poured from the Chivas Regal bottle and told us to relax. I said a silent prayer of thanks.