Someone Bad and Something Blue (17 page)

 

I
stood frozen, watching Sean's dead body. Prayers came out of my mouth, but the prayers were more for me. I didn't know what to do. I needed help; a clue. I observed his head injury. From a distance it looked like a gunshot wound, but something was off. The entry wound didn't look like the effects of a bullet. It reminded me of something else, but I couldn't think of it, because I was still searching the place for Elaine.

“Angel.” I heard someone whisper my name from behind me.

I spun around. My heart beat so fast. My hands had automatically drawn the gun out of my holster. I pointed the gun at the air. I saw no one.

“Am I going crazy?” I lowered the gun and dropped my head.

“No, but whoever did this must be,” the invisible spoke again.

I knelt down and squinted. “Elaine?!”

She was crouched inside a ceramic pot on the bottom shelf in the back row. “Is he gone?”

“Thank God you're alive.” I caught my chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “Stay where you are. You're probably the safest person in the building.”

She gave me a thumbs-up. I checked around for other signs of life.

I tiptoed around Sean and looked on the ground to my right. His wallet had fallen out of his tweed trousers. Yet, I didn't see any blood dripping on the floor. If I hadn't smelled a weird metal-like burned odor coming from near his collar I would have thought he was just unconscious or asleep. Was the bullet stuck in his bone? That didn't make sense, but I wasn't going to move him to make sure, because I didn't want to further contaminate the crime scene.

However, I did kick his wallet away from him so that his blood, which had oozed a bit from his head, didn't stain its leather. Sean prided his things, and in honor of his memory I thought I should at least preserve his wallet. It looked expensive. Yet, I had enough knowledge of crime scene investigation to know not to put my hands on it. I probably shouldn't have kicked it either, because when I did, the wallet turned over and fell open. I gasped at what I saw.

“Angel, it's Maxim. Gwinnett County sheriffs are here with me. Tell me where you are.”

“Maxim, we're back here. Congresswoman Turner is back here with me alive, but Sean is dead.” I looked down at Sean's wallet again and began to tremble. “Get here quickly; I need to show you something.”

I reached for a linen hankie in my pocket. I collected them at estate sales all over Atlanta. They are small, inexpensive, and something I can visualize passing on to Bella. I scooped up Sean's wallet with it, then took a picture of his ID with my phone camera. I then scanned some receipts and his grocery super saver cards in my scanner phone app. You can gather a great deal of personal data from a grocery discount card: home address, e-mail, shopping preferences, prescriptions, and the name of family members who can also use the card. I rubbed the wallet down with the hankie, then placed it back on the floor where I'd seen it and kicked it into the blood.

“Angel, where are you?” Maxim shouted again.

“We're in aisle 9 wicker!” Elaine shouted. She now stood on the other side of Sean's dead body. “Angel, where is my daughter?”

“Max, her daughter Lana is outside with Whitney. Someone secure them, please.”

Whitney accompanied Lana and Elaine to Gwinnett Medical via the Gwinnett County Sheriff's Department. I hung back to talk with Maxim, Gwinnett County Police, and the Gwinnett CSI on this case. Actually, they made me stay.

We were still at the crime scene. Terri, Sean, and two others were covered in sheets. One was a constituent who was in line to receive autographs of Elaine's latest book,
The New Southern Woman: A Political Perspective,
and the other was her bodyguard. From what I'd learned so far six others were injured from either being trampled on or from ricochet pistol bullet wounds. All the local media were still instructed to wait across the street, including
The Sentinel
.

Maxim chatted with the CSI team and the medical examiner (ME). I snuck a peek at my photos of Sean's wallet again. I had to share my theory with Maxim or I was going to explode.

“You need to put that phone away before they see you,” Maxim said as he walked over to me. “Considering your journalism background, they may confiscate it.”

“Good looking out.” I slid my phone inside my pocket. “Do you know what happened?”

“Obviously, it's an assassination. I just shared some specifics about Sean's involvement in last night's nip-joint sting with the detective.” He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “If Rosary wasn't dead before, she's probably dead now.”

“Not if you get to her first,” I said.

“Angel, what are you talking about?”

I pulled my phone out and showed him one of the photos. “Remember when you received a bad tip that Rosary had taken a Greyhound to her family?”

He nodded. “And?”

“Do you also remember when I told you that Sean bails out Elaine's constituents, so that probing eyes aren't on her?”

“Come on with it, Angel.”

“Like you told me before, I didn't ask the right questions. We didn't think to ask Greyhound whether any tickets were bought in Sean's name.” I pointed at the picture of the Greyhound receipt in Sean's wallet. “Two tickets: one child, one adult. Destination: Brunswick, Georgia. Has to be Rosary and her baby. I bet she's headed to her family in St. Marys.”

Maxim looked at me. His mouth was slightly opened. His eyes sparkled.

“We have to go now.” He took my arm.

“We can't go.” I yanked my arm away from him. “You, Ty, and your posse can go and get her. I'm going home.”

“Rosary needs you, Angel.”

“No, Rosary needs to be protected before whoever just killed Sean finds her. I need to get home, hug my daughter, finish out my vacation, and prepare to be a bridesmaid in a wedding.”

“And don't forget you have a date with Brother Boyfriend tonight.”

I ribbed him. “Stop with the surveillance, Maxim, and leave my man alone.”

“I'm sorry about that. But to be honest, I need you to leave all your loved ones for a few days.” He took off his hat and looked me in my eye. “Angel Crawford, I need you now.”

“I'm on vacation. . . .” I shook my head. “Please don't do this to me.”

“I'm not trying to do this to you. It's the truth, as bad as I hate to admit it.” He grinned. “You've been right all along and I believe you're the only one who can find Rosary. We don't have a lot of time to discuss this further. We need to get to the Georgia Coast.”

“What about the deputy marshal guy? Can't he take it from here?”

“She'll try, but she'll succeed if you're there, because you know the area and you know the shine community there.”

I squinted in surprise and shook my head. “What do you think you know about me?”

“I know about your Uncle Pete, Granny's, apple pie shine . . . your dad.”

I turned away from him and closed my eyes for a few seconds to keep from trembling. “Uncle Pete can't be a part of this plan, Marshal.”

He cleared his throat. “Maxim. I prefer Maxim.”

“Nope, I didn't make a mistake.” I turned back toward him. “Marshal, while you were investigating me, you should have dug a little further, because then you would know that there was no way in hell I was going to talk to that man.”

“You don't curse, Angel.”

“You don't know me, yet you curse me by bringing his name up.”

“Come on, Angel. Part of being a good investigator is using what you know to get what you need. We need to stop this guy and you can. Break the curse by saving someone you can save. In fact, you would be saving two: Rosary and Lucia DiChristina. Isn't this what you've wanted since I pulled you into this task force? To save Rosary and Lucia?”

A young woman with shoulder-length brunette hair that fell in ringlets walked toward us. She wore officer blues like the rest of the guys walking around, latex gloves, and disposable polyethylene overshoes. She carried two pairs in her hands, I assumed for me and Maxim.

Maxim handed me the overshoes. “Are you in or out?”

I snatched the overshoes out of his hands. “You make me sick.”

 

“T
hank you. Now, hide that phone and those pictures of Sean's wallet,” Maxim whispered, then turned toward the detective and grinned.

My chest tightened. I slid the phone back into my pocket.

“Angel, this is Officer Ramona Page. She's the Gwinnett County Police Homicide Detective handling this case. She needs to ask you a few questions about what the scene was like when you arrived.”

Ramona stepped toward me and extended her free hand. “You're the infamous Angel Crawford.”

“Oh, I hope not.” I shook her hand, while slipping on those overshoes with the other.

Detective Page had an accent more Southern than mine. A bit Appalachian unlike Amicalola Falls, but on the other side of the Chattahoochee Forest, more like Blue Ridge. She had a normal build and height, but possessed green eyes that pierced the sun. Sean would have fallen madly in love with her, if he could see her. I looked back at the hole in his face and sighed.

She handed me a pair of latex gloves and then smiled in a way that seemed heartfelt. “Ms. Crawford, my condolences regarding your friend. I know this is a troubling time for you and I appreciate so much that you have chosen to stick around. I know this isn't exactly where you want to be.”

I placed the gloves on my hands while chiding myself for not having them on a few minutes before when I'd gone through Sean's wallet, and I also prayed that my handkerchief rubbing had removed my fingerprints from the wallet. “Sean was more like a frenemy type, but he didn't deserve to be killed. If there's anything I can do to help, I'm your girl.”

She nodded. “Good, because I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Can I ask you a question first?” I cleaned my hands on my pants, then shook her hands. “Is Congresswoman Turner okay?”

Detective Page nodded. “She's pretty shaken up. Whoever this guy is he killed most of her team. We're looking at possible suspects who may have it out for the congresswoman.”

“But this shooting had nothing to do with Elaine.”

Page folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “Why don't you think so?”

“Because the congresswoman's right-hand man was my informant,” Maxim said. “We raided a nip joint last night because of him.”

Page's frown softened into a curious smile. “You as in Angel and you?”

He chuckled darkly. “Ms. Crawford is a part of my task force, Ramona. She's a private investigator. Her story is long, but will give you the answers you need, and since it's going to take you a long minute to process this building, perhaps Angel can give you the highlights. But don't take too long. We're going on a manhunt directly.”

Maxim's cowboy shtick had returned, which meant he was getting into his element. I needed to get into mine, but I needed to talk with my family first.

I leaned over to him and whispered, “Maxim, I need to go home first.”

“Then don't be long winded.” He smiled at Detective Page. “Ladies, I need to make a few calls, gather the boys together, and take care of some things. Don't worry. Detective Page is nicer than I am. You'll like her. I'll be outside where I need to be, so they can tag this place up.”

After I told Detective Page everything I wanted her to know she stopped her digital recorder and closed up her notepad. “You've been very helpful, Ms. Crawford.”

“So I'm free to leave? I need to see about my family.”

“You are. Thank you.”

Then she caught my jacket sleeve before I stepped away. “One thing. I hope I'm not being rude in asking, but what's the deal between you and Marshal West?”

“Nothing.” I squinted at her and noticed a familiar twinkle in her eye. “You gotta crush?”

She blushed. “Who doesn't?”

“For the record, I don't.” I patted her shoulders. “I'll put in a good word for you.”

“Please do.” She smiled.

Someone spoke into her walkie-talkie.

“Um . . . Angel. Actually, you can't go home just yet. There's been a development.”

My stomach thudded. They must have found my print on Sean. I gulped.

“Am I in trouble?”

She patted my shoulder. “You're not in trouble. As you know Marshal West is the senior inspector for the Southeast Regional Fugitive Task Force. They are the first call in this state for a major fugitive investigation. Just about every law enforcement branch in the state is a part of it.”

He is?
“Of course, that's why I need to get home. We have state stuff to do. We have to hunt down the shooter, whoever he is.”

“But according to the statement you just gave, you actually met the shooter.”

I frowned. “Can't be. I only spoke to three people before you guys got here: a Korean gentleman, some guy who tried to keep me from coming in, and the bad-shot security guard.”

“Who?” She cocked her head. “Because the fourth victim covered up over there is the security guard.”

She pointed at another dead person hidden under a sheet. He wore black rubber sole shoes. My head began to throb.

“Who was I speaking with near the checkout counter?” I asked.

Detective Page shrugged. She looked at me in that way a veterinarian looked at you before she told you that your dog had to be put down. “Angel . . .”

“Do you mean to tell me that I had the shooter and I let him go?”

She nodded. “I'm afraid so.” Her face appeared as full of regret as I felt.

I felt light headed. I stumbled into her arms. “I need to get out of here.”

Detective Page escorted me out of the CSI technicians' way, while they prepared the scene and to meet the rest of the U.S. marshal team in charge of this special fugitive recovery case. During our walk through the store she shared that Deacon West, my instructor and Maxim's uncle, was one of the first African American U.S. marshals in Georgia. U.S. Marshal Services was the second oldest federal law enforcement agency in the country. They had wide boundaries and swept over many jurisdictions, apparently. Maxim was a bigger dog than he'd let on and I felt embarrassed for not being impressed by him earlier.

When we stepped outside the building I gasped.

Police presence at a crime scene always surprises me. Gwinnett Police had surrounded Garden Ridge. The parking lot was filled with white crime-scene-unit vans and white Ford Mustang cruisers. The officers on the scene wore crisp periwinkle cotton shirts and gray pants. Yellow crime scene tape had been put down. A few officers demanded that the press, yet again, move across the street where the old Shoney's Restaurant and Inn used to be. I squinted when I thought I saw a familiar face over there, but it was too far to see.

Maxim ran over to me. “Are you okay?”

“A little woozy, but don't worry; I'm not pregnant.” I chuckled. “I think I'm hungry.”

“I think you need to be checked out. You have had a very stressful day.” Maxim walked away and whispered something to Detective Page. I tried to read their lips, but couldn't. My mind raced with all the surprises that had happened today: Tara Tina Ramirez showing up at Filene's, Sean's murder, and now this crap. I could picture Tiger waving his hand and telling me that he'd told me to stay home.

Maxim touched my shoulder. “I want the EMTs to take a look at you before we go. Is that okay?”

I looked up at him. “Can I take back what I said before about going with you? I don't want to do this anymore.”