Blind Delusion (44 page)

“Listen Lieutenant, we can help each other,” said Santos, almost begging.

Santos explained that their FBI special task force already outlined the details of using an undercover cop to trap DL. By threatening DL with a capital murder charge, they could work out a deal. With DL’s testimony, the feds could bag Ian Mathias for multiple gang-related slayings, tax evasion, and drug conspiracy. Agent Santos read from police reports and her own case files while Bradford stared off into space not even wanting to consider another suspect, other than Brenda Johnson. Renee had always suspected Bradford of being unprofessional and now she was convinced of it.

Agent Santos vehemently argued her theory. “Lt. Bradford, there is enough motive for me to wonder if the Jett Set hitman, DL could be responsible for Jerome Johnson’s murder on October 6.”

“If you charge Mrs. Johnson for her husband’s murder, I won’t have any bargaining chips to make a deal with DL,” said Santos.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” said Bradford, yawning.

“Look, Detective, we know from a close acquaintance and our wire taps that Jerome Johnson, the victim, owed Mathias $2,000 that clearly he could not pay.”

“That’s right, Mel. What we need is enough leverage to convince DL to go for a plea bargain and turn government snitch against Mathias,” said Deek, backing up Agent Santos.

Agent Santos stood up and leaned across Bradford’s desk until she was right in his face. “What else do you need, Bradford? I’ve got a vested interest in both these cases because I truly believe they are related and that Ian Mathias is behind a string of multiple killings throughout the city.” Ana Santos continued. “So I’m gonna stick around to make sure that poor widow doesn’t get blamed for a crime she didn’t commit just because you wanna close out all your case files before you retire. Any problems with that Detective Bradford?”

“I hate to blow out your candles, Santos, but … you better light ‘em up again and make another wish,” he said, wearing a sneer on his face and a toothpick stuck between his teeth. “You guys are gonna have to dig that hole a little deeper to nab your boy, Mathias. Anyway, why would this guy Mathias order a hit for a lousy two grand?” asked Bradford, “That’s chump change to a big time drug lord like Mathias.”

“It’s not about the amount of money, Detective, it’s about respect,” said Santos, “You should know that! Mathias can’t just ignore it or other crackheads might try to get away with it. Or worse, his crew might lose respect for him and take him out one day.”

Bradford shrugged and stretched out his arms behind his head. “I don’t believe the Johnson woman’s statement. I think this broad’s guilty as sin,” he said, scratching his rotund belly.

Agents Santos threw up her arms and sighed in exasperation.

“I gotta go to the john,” said Bradford, as he rose and headed towards the bathroom, “What I really need is to get myself a case of beer, get loaded, then crash for about five days.”

Agent Santos called after him. “Mel, all I’m asking is that you consider the possibility,” she said and ejected her cassette tape from the machine. “Until I see a set of fingerprints or an eyewitness tying Mrs. Johnson to her husband’s murder, I’ll stick to my claim against Mathias.”

Agent Ana Santos gathered up her documents and gave Renee a polite nod, good-bye. Then, she looked directly at Deek and smiled. “
Llamame esta noche
,” she said only to him and strutted out the door. Renee did not know what she said to him, but it was clear Agent Santos had a thing for Deek, and what woman wouldn’t, she thought.

When Deek and Renee were alone at the desk, or as alone as they could be amidst a half dozen detectives working on their own cases, Renee turned to Deek with a concerned look on her face. “Come to think of it, I believe my beautician, Cha-Cha Taylor, has been seeing that drug lord, Ian Mathias, the one Agent Santos talked about. It sounds like the same man. I hope he’s not using her. Cha-Cha puts on a tough exterior but she can be very naïve and trusting at times. I think I should warn Cha-Cha to stay away from Mathias without telling her anything specific, of course.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Renee. Though I understand your concern for her. You might be putting your own safety at risk if Mathias finds out you’re working with us and thinks you know too much,” said Deek.

“I know Cha-Cha can be overly dramatic at times, but if it turns out that this Ian Mathias really is responsible for Jerome’s murder I’m sure Cha-Cha had nothing to do with it. But I can’t help worry that if she continues to see this man she might become an unknowing accomplice to his crimes or worse, another one of his victims.”

“I see your point. Mathias is dangerous. But let me talk to her, okay? That way she won’t need to know you’re behind it. If for some reason she doesn’t believe me and goes back and tells Mathias, at least you won’t be implicated. And if she refuses to sever ties with him, she’ll have to face the consequences when he gets busted.”

“All right Deek, but please speak to her soon. This is Friday so she’ll be at the shop late. Make her understand how dangerous it is being involved with this man.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her as soon as I can,” said Deek and squeezed Renee’s hand.

Chapter 32
 

A
uniformed officer approached Deek and called him away. While he was gone, Renee went to get a drink of water from the cooler and caught sight of her image on a wall mirror. She flinched at the tired, lusterless eyes, pallid skin, and turned-down corners of her mouth that reflected back at her in the mirror. The past ten days had taken a heavy toll. It seemed like every time she came within reach of what she wanted, it got snatched away. She thought of losing her mother at the young age of 7. Renee no longer trusted that happiness would ever come her way unless she really worked hard for it. When Deek returned he immediately read the troubled look on her face. As usual, he intuitively sensed her moods and feelings. He stood behind her chair and gently massaged her neck and shoulders until the tension lifted.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she said, with a relaxed smile.

“I think I’ll call the crime scene lab to see if the technicians have anything yet,” said Deek, “Hopefully, they were able to lift fingerprints off the duct tape we found behind the Johnson house.”

“Can they do that?”

“Sometimes. Nowadays, we have cutting-edge science and technology to bring killers to justice. I’ll put the call through on speaker phone so you can listen in,” said Deek as he dialed one of the specialists at the police CSI lab.

“Hey, Roberts, Detective Hamilton here. How are you, buddy?”

“Backed up but I started your analysis, Lieutenant.”

“Good. What’s it look like so far?”

“Nothing from the duct tape or fabric threads yet. But I’m applying gas chromatography analysis on the gasoline can and debris residue you sent in.”

“I’ve heard of that procedure but educate me a little, will you Roberts?”

“Gas chromatography is a technique that’s become so accurate it can differentiate between different makes and grades of gasoline,” the specialist explained, “each grade of gasoline has its own fingerprint so to speak, depending on the chemicals present.”

“That’s fascinating, but what’ll it buy me?”

“I should be able to trace the residuals from the gas can used in the crime to an individual gas station or even to the fuel tank of a particular vehicle.”

“That should narrow the search a bit for us,” said Deek, “how soon do you think you’ll have something conclusive?”

“Because it’s you, Lieutenant, I’ll work on it this weekend. Should have something by Monday.”

“Appreciate it, buddy. I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Detective.”

Just as Deek hung up the phone, Bradford returned. He filled his partner in on what the crime lab specialist explained but Bradford didn’t seem impressed. The lead investigator stuck to his belief that starting a gasoline fire was too amateurish for a notorious drug crew like the Jett Setters. Why wouldn’t they just shoot the guy? Deek admitted that Bradford had a valid point. Then his partner opened the front drawer of his desk and took out a piece of paper.

“I have a warrant of arrest upon probable cause, signed by the magistrate, said Detective Bradford, waving the paper in the air. “I just got a call from the DA. She wants me to proceed.”

“Why didn’t you discuss this with me first, Mel?” asked Deek.

“’Cause I’m the lead investigator, not you, Young Blood. Those media sharks, Chief Frye, and Mayor Latchette are on my back every day to make an arrest. The public is fed up with all these so-called good mothers committing crimes for their own selfish gain.”

Bradford’s voice rose to an emotional pitch. “Brenda Johnson thought she’d be sitting pretty with that insurance money. And, at the same time gettin’ rid of her cheatin’ husband. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to pull a fraudulent insurance scam. Check the police files for yourself.” He paused, looking straight at Renee. “Well, I’ve got news for her, by Monday morning, she’ll find her ass in C-10 in D. C. Superior Courthouse for arraignment,” said Bradford, “If her hotshot attorney can’t get her ass out on PR, she’ll stay locked up until the trial.”

“Detective Bradford, this is a double tragedy. A man is brutally murdered and his wife falsely accused,” Renee said.

“That’s not how me and the rest of the world see it. Brenda Johnson had motive and opportunity. Look at the facts. The wife finds out her husband got fired for using drugs, is having an affair with his old girlfriend, and she inherits fifty grand if he croaks. As for opportunity, I don’t think Mrs. Johnson would have any trouble getting somebody else to do her dirty work for a nice share in the profits. She’s a pretty little thing at that. How hard would it be for her to convince some idiot to knock off her husband for say a couple of grand once her insurance money comes in?”

“Your theory is bogus, Detective,” said Renee, “I know my secretary and she is as good and honest as they come. She’s a Christian and a believer.”

“The worse kind if you ask me,” said Bradford. “Anyway, this is what you say, Doc, but I happen to know things aren’t always as they seem.”

“Don’t be so quick to put this case to bed, Mel,” said Deek, “There’re still too many unanswered questions and nothing but circumstantial evidence to pin it on Mrs. Johnson. I want to close the case while it’s still hot too but only if we catch the real killer.”

“This Johnson case has gotten too much media attention. I’m the lead investigator and everybody’s breathing down my neck to solve it.”

Bradford folded the arrest warrant and placed it in his inside jacket pocket. “You two continue the party without me. I’m going home for some shut-eye. I’ll be back in a coupla hours. Deek, can you follow-up with the victim’s ex-girlfriend, Leenae Lewis? Make sure her alibi checks out too”

“Looks like I’ll have to. Catch you later, Partner,” said Deek.

“If it makes you feel any better, Dr. Hayes, I don’t think Brenda Johnson acted alone. I believe she had a flunky boyfriend in on it,” Bradford winked. “Like I said, greed, betrayal, and revenge. It’s all there, folks.” Bradford got his coat and headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned around. “Ya’ll remember that old school tune by the Pretenders?” Without waiting for their reply, he began singing the lyrics off-key, “It’s a thin line, between love and hate … a thin line, between love and hate …” His voice trailed off, but he kept singing until they could no longer hear him.

Lt. Bradford left Renee seething mad but as usual she was able to successfully mask her anger with him.

“Deek, I have to see Brenda right away and find out what happened nine years ago with her first child and the insurance money she collected from that child’s death. Bradford is obviously using that case to establish a precedent against her.”

“You’re right, Doc. Call me when you have something. I need to hang around and finish some paperwork on another case. Bradford’s not even waiting for the physical evidence from the lab that could implicate someone else. This isn’t like him, Renee. Something must be causing him to have tunnel vision against Brenda Johnson.”

Just as Renee was about to leave to go see her secretary, a pregnant woman who appeared to be homeless ambled into Homicide’s processing room. Renee stood frozen in place as she stared into the homeless woman’s sorrowful dark eyes. The woman’s bony shoulders drooped and she was dressed in layers of oversized, threadbare, dirty clothes and a dingy-looking, red knit cap. The woman nearly collapsed in front of Detective Galloway’s desk. Tall and thin, except for her bulging stomach and swollen feet, she braced one hand on the detective’s desk and clutched a business card in the other hand.

“Can I help you?” Detective Galloway asked.

She glanced at the card in her hand. “I need to see Detective Degas Hamilton,” she said between puffs to catch her breath.

Deek and Renee rushed towards the woman and grabbed her on each side by the waist and elbow. They led her to a more comfortable couch in the coffee lounge where she immediately collapsed. She wiped the perspiration from her face with her coat sleeve. Then snatched off her red knit cap and smoothed down dark strands of straggly, unwashed wavy hair. Renee noticed that if this woman’s hair had been groomed and cared for, its texture would have resembled the beautiful mane of what the old timers used to call ‘good hair’ like Renee’s mother had possessed when she was alive.

“Billi, can I get you anything?” asked Deek, helping her to remove her ratty wool coat.

“Water,” she said in a weak voice, still out of breath.

“I’ll get it,” said Renee and hurried out front to the water fountain. Renee returned a few moments later and offered her two water-filled Dixie cups. The woman gulped down one then placed the other cup on the table.

“Bless you sistuh,” the homeless woman grinned, revealing a few missing and chipped front teeth.

Despite the lack of dental work and gaunt expression, Billi had an attractive face with large, chestnut eyes, a small, button nose, and naturally rose-tinted lips. She was just a shade lighter than Renee’s own tender brown complexion. Grimy, dirty, multiple layers of clothing covered her back. This was all she owned to shield her from the cold. Living on the streets branded Billi’s once-pretty face with healed scars, a weather-beaten skin tone, and blemishes.