Alibi (6 page)

“Did he?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna bring him in.”

Just then the phone rang. Detective Ross answered.

“What? You got to be kidding me.”

She hung up the phone. “Come on, we got another homicide,” she said to Detective Delgado, who was still reading the forensic
findings folder.

“Where at?”

“That’s the thing, you’ll never believe it,” she said looking at him as if an idiot could figure it out.

“The 2500 block of Somerset Street?”

“Bingo, come on, let’s go.”

* * *

The next morning the coroner from the medical examiner’s office finally showed up to remove Daisy’s mother’s body from the
apartment at around five-thirty. It appeared she had suffered a stroke. The coroner’s office sat Daisy down and asked her
many questions, filled out some forms, had her sign some papers, and then carried Abigail Fothergill away in a black body
bag. The coroner said they were taking her to Temple Hospital where they would perform an autopsy on the body. Once the autopsy
was complete, the body would be released to the funeral home of her choice.

After the coroner was gone Daisy picked up the phone. She had a short list of people that she knew she would have to notify.
The first on her list was Aunt Tildie. Matilda Wright had married three times, but she only had one child, by her last husband,
a daughter named Kimmie Sue. It was the strangest thing, but each and every one of her husbands had died from a heart attack,
leaving her a widow. After the first husband, Tildie got smart and made sure she had insurance on the others. She made out
like a fat little rat. Natural disasters, death, loss, whatever could hurt you financially, you could for the most part be
protected against by insurance. Daisy let the phone ring several times before Tildie answered.

“Auntie Matilda, it’s me, Daisy, I have some bad news…”

“Oh, no,” said Tildie before she began to cry. “Let me call you back.” It would be some time before Tildie got it together.
Her sister Abigail had been the only family she had left, besides her daughter, Kimmie, and the truth was, Tildie had been
planning to visit Abigail this summer. It had been so long since she had last seen her sister, sixteen years to be exact.

When Abigail was younger and more able to get around, they spent the summers together in Murfreesboro where they had grown
up. Every year around springtime, Abigail would make her way back down South where she had come from. And each and every time
she made her journey and got safely back home to Philadelphia, the South would just keep calling her back. Something about
walking in the footprints of lost time just brought back the most bittersweet memories. Her ma and her pa, her fox terriers,
the farmhouse they lived in, the farm they had, the chickens, the horses, the pigs, the cows, the goats, the mule, and the
rows and rows of corn her daddy minded were like a never-ending picture in a never-ending picture frame that flashed her mind
in and out of places she had been in her lifetime. All the memories of her childhood she could always find in her travels
back to Murfreesboro.

For the past year and a half, Matilda had been saving pieces of her Social Security check. Her plan was to fly out of Nashville
nonstop to Philadelphia, spend a week with her sister, and then go back down South. Now, it was too late. Her older sister
was gone. It was a feeling of loneliness that Matilda had never felt in her life. It was one thing to lose her ma and pa.
That made her no one’s child. It was another to lose her last and only family member. Seemed like all her memories of her
and her sister growing up on the farm flashed in front of her, and she broke down in a pool of tears, feeling lonelier than
she ever had in her life. She wanted to see Abigail, had to see her, had to bid her one last good-bye, and in her heart she
knew the journey to Philadelphia from Murfreesboro would be well worth it. She explained the situation to her daughter, Kimmie,
whom everyone nicknamed Kimmie Sue, and they began their trip to Philadelphia for Abigail’s funeral.

“I’ll call you from the road and let you know we’re all right.” Tildie called Daisy back and let her know that her family,
what little she had, was on the way and everything would be all right. Daisy hung the phone up feeling a tad bit relieved.
She knew her aunt would be there for her. She had also felt better knowing that she’d have someone there to lean on. She had
never thought in a million years that her mother would pass so unexpectedly. Daisy drew in a deep breath as she wiped the
tears off her face. She had to make another call, to Hawkins Funeral Home on Fifty-fourth and Haverford. She spoke calmly
with one of the directors and began making arrangements for her mother. Daisy had it all figured out, and she ordered nothing
short of the finest for her mother to be laid to rest. She agreed to meet the director at the hospital once the body was released
by the medical examiner. As long as there was no foul play, the results of the autopsy would be in shortly and the death certificate
would be issued. And that was all she needed, that death certificate.

Her next phone call was to the insurance company that had issued a life insurance policy on her mother. She pressed the number
to speak with a representative. Daisy was nervous and overwhelmed looking at the policy paperwork.
One hundred thousand dollars, damn, that’s a lot of money right there.
She couldn’t help it, thoughts of cussing Calvin’s evil ass out ran through her mind.

“Get on out of here,”
she could hear him shouting now.

“Fuck you, Calvin. I don’t need you or this sorry dump you fake ass pimp.”

“Hello, ma’am, are you there?” the representative asked a second time.

“Oh, I’m sorry, yeah, I’m right here,” Daisy said as she stopped daydreaming.

She gave the woman all the pertinent information as she read it off the policy declaration page she had found in her mother’s
bedroom. She gave the operator the policy number and waited while she was placed on hold.

After a few seconds the representative came back to the line.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It appears that policy was canceled for nonpayment five months ago. Do you have another policy number you’d
like me to search for you?”

“What?” Daisy asked, not hearing her clearly. “What do you mean, canceled?”

“Well, ma’am, the policy was canceled for nonpayment. We sent out a notice to your mom and it doesn’t look like she responded
to it. And the policy won’t stay open if it’s not paid up. I’m so sorry.”

“No, wait a minute, I got the paperwork right here, it’s for one hundred thousand dollars.”

“Yes, ma’am, but back in May we didn’t receive a payment, and in June a cancellation notice was sent out, and after we didn’t
receive the payment in June the policy was canceled. I can check another policy for you, if you like.”

Why didn’t she tell me? There’s no life insurance? How am I going to bury her?

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, would you like me to check another policy for you?”

No, bitch, check the policy I got right here. Fuck, how will I bury my momma?

“Umm, no, ma’am, that won’t be necessary, thank you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of better service to you. Have a wonderful day.”

“Eat a happy dick!”
Daisy wanted to scream so bad, but she didn’t.

“You, too, thank you.”

Just as she hung up the phone the funeral director rang.

“Hello,” Daisy answered.

“Ms. Fothergill, I got that quote for your mother’s services for you. It’s only $8,762.23,” the director said, quite charmingly.

Eight thousand dollars, is he crazy? She’s dead, not alive, I’m not spending no eight thousand on no dead person.

Daisy couldn’t think straight. It was simply overwhelming. Her mother’s passing over, no insurance policy, no hundred thousand
dollars, and a funeral director trying to G her out of eight grand.
Lord have mercy.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I just got off the phone with the insurance company. It turns out Momma doesn’t have no life insurance
to cover this. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

There was a pause for a moment, and by the time the director was finished feeling Daisy out, realizing she was broke and had
no money to bury her dead mother and no policy to sign over to his funeral home, there was only one possibility left.

“Well, we can pick her up from the coroner’s, cremate her, and place her ashes in a lovely small urn for you for only $1,987.92.”

That’s my two thousand from my investigator,
Daisy thought to herself, her plans now really ruined.

“Ma’am, would you like to do that?” he asked her again.

Having no other options, she agreed.

“Fine, then, I’ll meet you at the hospital when the body is ready and you can sign the release there.”

She hung up the phone, lay down on her mother’s bed, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Daisy was tired and wished she could
take a midmorning nap. But she only had a few hours before she would have to meet the director at the hospital. She picked
herself up, grabbed her pocketbook, and locked the apartment door behind her. She saw the mailman as she made her way downstairs.

“Hello, I’m 3C,” she said, extending her hand so he wouldn’t put the mail in the box. “Thanks,” she said as she fanned through
the envelopes.
Ooh, Momma’s Social Security check.
She knew that envelope. It was either Social Security or a tax refund, but the brown-windowed envelope with the Statue of
Liberty chick always meant some dough. She opened the envelope:
Eight hundred, fifty-nine dollars and thirty-two cents. Dag, Momma, I need this money,
she said to herself, knowing that technically it wasn’t right to cash her dead mother’s Social Security check, but what the
hell. She was a signer on the bank account, so technically it couldn’t be that bad.

Detective Delgado and Detective Ross walked into the ICU ward and over to the nurses’ station. They asked for Saunta Davis
and were pointed over to bed thirteen.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Delgado and this is Detective Ross. We are here to help find the person who did this. May we ask you
a few questions?”

“She’s really heavily sedated,” a nurse said. “So, if she doesn’t respond, you might want to come back, just keep that in
mind.”

“Thank you, we will,” said Ross, smiling at the woman, wanting desperately to let her know they did not need her advice at
all.

“Ms. Davis, do you remember what happened?” Delgado asked.

Saunta barely opened her eyes, her mouth dry and her body feeling not much pain, thanks to her morphine drip. She had just
come out of recovery, after being operated on for the better part of the night.

“DaShawn,” she whispered, in such a low voice Delgado couldn’t make out what she was saying.

“Ms. Davis, do you know who did this to you?” Ross asked again, realizing the woman could speak.

Saunta, her eyes barely open, looked at Detective Ross and shook her head “Yes,” then nodded back to sleep. Detective Delgado
was ready to shake her back awake.

“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Sternberger, and this is my patient.”

“Yes, I’m Detective Delgado, and this is my partner, Detective Ross. We’re here investigating the shooting of Ms. Davis and
the murder of her son,” Detective Delgado said, extending his hand to the doctor.

“I understand that, but she can’t answer your questions right now. She’s heavily sedated and needs rest. As soon as she comes
out of sedation, I will call you, but you will have to wait until I feel she is up to answering your questions.”

Ross immediately looked at her partner, knowing what could possibly come out his mouth next, and quickly stepped in. “Thank
you so much, Dr. Sternberger. You know, it’s so important for us to bring her assailant to justice, we just need you to contact
us the minute you feel she’s ready to answer just a few simple questions.”

“You have my word, I will.”

“Thank you,” said Delgado, being polite, as they all shook hands.

The two detectives made their way out of ICU as Merva shook her head at her partner. “Don’t you know you won’t get no bees
with vinegar.”

“I’m not interested in bees, I’m interested in finding a killer that’s running around the streets of Philadelphia on the loose.”

“Well, you sure won’t find him like that.”

Just as they were exiting the elevators, a young woman wearing blue jeans, a light blue T-shirt, sneakers, and a gray sweater
bumped into them as she brushed between them trying to catch the elevator.

“Oops, ’scuse me,” she said as the elevator doors closed.

“Wow, did you see her eyes?” said Delgado. “They were an odd green.”

“I didn’t know you like black girls,” joked Ross.

“Why do you think I keep you around?”

“Oh, I thought it was for my charming personality and stunning good looks.”

“Stunning good looks and charming personality?” he jokingly questioned.

“Whatever, I’m hungry.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“Yeah, I got a taste for a Lee’s Hoagie House.”

“Let’s go eat, wait and see if Dr. Sternberger will let us talk to this Davis woman any time soon. I have a gut instinct she
knows who shot her and she knows something about the Three Musketeers from down the hallway.”

“My gut’s telling me tuna, mayo, provolone, sweet peppers, lettuce, tomato, salt, pepper, and oregano.”

“I’m serious, Ross.”

“So am I.”

Calvin watched the floor and the bar. He took notes of every little thing, who was at what table, who was dancing, who was
on a lap, who was going in the back, who was drinking and how much. He counted every last drop of liquor in his bottles and
watched the bartenders like a hawk. They had better not even think of stealing one penny from him. No, Mr. Stringer was on
his job. At the end of the day, everybody around there knew who was in charge.

“What’s the matter with Daisy? She don’t seem like herself,” he asked Dallas as he sat at the bar and watched all the transactions
around him.