The Artist's Paradise (23 page)

Chapter 39

Angie glanced around the police interview room. It appeared to be similar to those conference rooms she’d seen on
Law and Order.
She and the Bakers filled three straight-backed chairs clustered along the right side of the table. The professor, planted in a chair at the back of the room, straddled a chair cowboy style.

She
fought to keep her eyes open. She yawned and stretched her long torso. Staring at the conference table, she refused to allow herself to make eye contact with the professor. Her concentration broke, as the door opened and two uniformed police officers entered. One, a gray-haired man in his late fifties, carried a tray laden with six cups of coffee. The second officer, a middle-aged female barely five-foot four, cupped a pen and large clipboard in her hands. They introduced themselves and sat down at the table across from Angie and the Bakers.

Coffee dispersed, the male officer turned to Jack and smiled. “It’s nice to see retirement’s agreeing with you.”

“Yeah.
The Desperate Housewives
has nothing on our neighborhood.”

The male officer laughed and acknowledged Hanna. Then he asked the professor, “Are you James Turner?”

“Professor James Turner. Yes.”

“And I assume, young lady, that you
are Mrs. Angie Rhodes?”

“That’s correct.”

“I understand you want to press charges against the professor, and the professor plans to press charges against your husband.”

The professor leaped out of his chair. “No one presses charges against me.”

“Sir, I have the floor right now. You sit down,” demanded the male policemen.

Professor Turner turned his back to the officer and marched to the end of the conference room, muttering to himself.

The officer glared at the professor. “As I was saying, we pride ourselves on relationship building, not cases taken to court. In that vein, our practice may seem somewhat unusual. We make every attempt to resolve differences instead of encouraging litigation—thus our gathering today.”

“The investigations begin more like arbitration,” the female cop offered.

“Yes, and because this is a quiet college town, we don’t like notoriety—especially when our university faculty is involved. So, before anyone discusses charges, let’s talk. Mrs. Rhodes, please tell us what happened.”

“The professor lost his temper and attacked my husband. He used some kind
of martial arts and kicked him twice. My husband’s in the hospital with broken ribs and a concussion. The attack was totally unprovoked.”

The professor pounded the table. “That’s a lie. That jerk of a husband threatened me first. He was on my property, and he tried to take her away. I was justified in defending my
home and keeping him from kidnapping her.”

The male officer stood and put out his hand. “Professor Turner, please take a seat. If you don’t calm down, I’ll have to end this interview.”

The professor’s eyebrows arched, and his face flushed. “It’s a bunch of lies.”

“You’ll get your turn to speak in a few minutes.”

“Good.” The professor dropped into his seat with a thud.

The male cop turned his attention to Jack Baker. “Kidnapping is a serious offense. What did you observe?”

“Not much, really. I was inside the house. Hanna saw the ruckus out our kitchen window and shouted for me to get my gun. I ran outside, but the fighting was pretty much over. The professor appeared agitated, and the lady’s husband was on the ground, unconscious. I had my handgun and ordered the professor to stand back. Who started it? I don’t know. But the professor seemed to be the one to finish it.”

The male cop turned to Hanna
. “Mrs. Baker, what did you hear?”

Hanna drew in her breath. “I heard shouting from the yard next door. I knew the professor had been sent to the hospital the day before. When I looked out the kitchen window and saw Angie, her husband
, Jonathan, and the professor. They appeared to be arguing. I was afraid so I called for Jack and then called 911. I didn’t hear what started the fight. But I’m sure the professor was the aggressor. He must have hit Angie’s husband first. He’s a scary man.”

The professor slammed his palms on the table
again. “She’s the scary one. Always peeking out her windows, constantly watching me come and go. She should be locked up.”

“I asked you to calm down. I won’t tell you again.”
The male cop said.

The professor slumped
. With lips pursed, he mumbled “She’s a nosey old liar.”

Ignoring the comment, t
he male cop looked over at his female partner. “Anything you want to ask these fine folks?”

“No.”

“Okay, Professor Turner, it’s your turn to share what happened. Please remain calm and stick to the facts.”

The professor stood and paced the length of the small conference room. “I teach art. Angie is my student. Out of the blue, this man appeared on my property. He grabbed Angie and said she had to leave. Knowing we were in the midst of a
nine-week class, I moved to protect her from that irritating man.”

Angie leaped
up. “That’s not true. That man is my husband, and you knew it.” She pointed her finger at Turner. “I had already told you I was leaving, Knoxville—going home. You threatened to kill yourself if I left. I tried to stop you from swallowing a bottle of pills. They had to pump your stomach.” She stopped for a breath. “When my husband came to help me, you used that Karate. The attack on Jonathan was unprovoked. He never put a hand on you.”

The two cops stared at each other. “I think I’m beginning to get the picture. Why don’t you two sit
down?” He sighed and looked into the faces of the four civilians. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. While we’ve been talking, my man has been taking a deposition from Mister Rhodes. We’ll compare stories and review your statements. When we return, we’ll discuss whether any charges can be filed. Do you folks think you can sit here quietly and not discuss the case while I am out of the room?”

The professor
smirked. “I refuse to sit here with these liars.”

The male cop shrugged and said, “Fine. Come with me. You can have your very own interrogation room.”

The two cops strolled down the hallway. The professor squared his shoulders and marched behind them, the echoing of his steps diminishing as he went.

Hanna Baker reached over and patted Angie on her trembling hands. “
Honey, how’s Jonathan?”

“He’s actually doing pretty well. His pain comes and goes. It hurts him to move, but the doctor says he
’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

“Broken
ribs can be nasty,” Jack said.

Angie stood, and paced to the back of the interrogation room. “I feel so guilty. He never would have come if I’d kept in touch.” She pressed the palms of her ha
nds against her eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Hanna said. “That professor is a dangerous man.”

“I can’t blame the professor for everything that happened. I played my part, too. It was obvious he had problems, but I lacked the courage to pack up and go home. I didn’t want to face Jonathan as a failure.” She paused. Tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ears, she continued. “I blamed Jonathan for his success. I was wrong. I lived in fear, and fear is a poor choice as a companion.”

Jack crossed his arms. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go get some more coffee while you
ladies talk in private.” He exited the room in record time.

Angie stifled a laugh. “Men rarely like to talk about feelings.”

“Some do, but most men are more action oriented. They want to solve the problem, not talk about it.”

Angie slid back into the wooden chair and leaned closer to Hanna. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please others and keep everyone happy. I’ve never demanded what should be rightfully mine—the right to be a mother, the right to become an artist. Instead, I allowed myself to shine as a trophy wife. I apologized for my own dreams and settled for Jonathan’s.”

Hanna cleared her throat. “Fear is a powerful motivator. As we grow up, our experiences mold our behaviors. But like all choices, we are responsible for making the final decisions. The good news is, we can change, but we have to want to intentionally choose different behaviors.”

Angie rested her head on the table
. “I can’t live this way any longer. I have to be strong enough to make a change.”

#

A half an hour later, Jack and the professor returned with the two cops tailing behind, as if on a forced march. Jack took his seat next to Hanna and sipped his fresh cup of coffee.

The professor stomped in, stood in the back of the room, and began tapping his foot.

The male cop flopped into his chair and rustled through several papers. He raised his head and engaged each of the witnesses as he gazed around the room. “We’ve reviewed all the statements. Some agree, some disagree, and some just lack all the facts. The bottom line is you folks got into a heated discussion and lost perspective. A harried husband worried about foul play, an anxious professor just released from the hospital for emotional issues, and a young woman away from home too long. In my opinion, it all adds up to much about nothing.”

Angie gasped. “Nothing
. What about Jonathan.”

“We have no other witnesses in this matter.
Mrs. Baker, although you say the professor hit Mister Rhodes first, you didn’t hear what was said. The professor claims he felt threatened and was protecting Mrs. Rhodes. Since the Bakers didn’t hear the confrontation, the two of you,” he waved at Angie and then at Professor Turner, “won’t agree on what happened. It’s a “He-said/She-said” case. No winners, but possibly two losers. Let me suggest that you part company, forget about filing charges that won’t be strong enough for prosecution, and move on with your lives.”

“My husband’s lying in a hospital bed with a concussion and broken ribs. He deserves justice.”

“I understand you being upset. But Professor Turner has a right to defend himself and his property. He claims your husband threatened him, and he responded with force. You can’t win this, lady. Professor Turner is well-known and respected in our community.”

“Fine, take care of your precious professor.
” Angie turned to Hanna. She raised her arm and pulled back her sleeve. “Hanna, do you have a camera? I want a picture of these bruises.”

“No, not on me.” Hanna said, eyes wide.

“What bruises?” the female police officer asked.

“T
hese bruises.” Angie pointed to the black and blue handprints on her right arm. “Your esteemed professor roughed me up several times this week.”

“No. You were trying to. . .” He stopped abruptly.

Angie handed Doctor Black’s instructions to the officer. “The doctor told Professor Turner to see one of these three psychiatrists today. His condition is that serious. If you don’t believe me, call him. His name and number are on the top of the discharge papers.”

Professor Turner
stood and marched toward the door, but the male cop restrained him. “You take your filthy hands off my arm, immediately.”

The male cop pushed the professor back down in his chair.
“Try your martial arts with me, and you’ll end up in prison for assault.”

Angie pointed her finger at the professor.
“If you don’t comply with the doctors’ orders, I will file a charge of physical and emotional abuse.” She glared at the male cop. “Then what kind of reputation will your community have?”

“
Lies, all lies.” Professor Turner raved.

“Shut up.” The female cop walked up to Turner. “Sit back down.”

“I know a lawyer who can get an order from the mental health court in Nashville to require the professor to seek treatment.” Jack said, and grinned at Turner.

“
If I make an appointment today, can I leave?” The professor stood.

“Professor Turner, no complaint will be filed here today
,” the male cop said. “But a court order
will
be filed. You must seek professional help, whether you make an appointment today or not.”

The professor grunted and stepped toward Angie and the Bakers.
“You have the upper hand today.” Pointing at Angie, he said. “I’ll make that appointment, even though it’s nonsense.” Then moving his attention to Hanna, he continued. “But if this busy-body neighbor ever interferes with my life again, she’s going to find a fat lawsuit on her hands.” He offered a frozen smile, then turned his back on them and whistled as he strolled toward the door.” Stomping out of the conference room, he slammed the door behind him.

Hanna
turned and gently patted Angie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. That man will get what he deserves one day. Go take care of your husband. I have your suitcases at my house. Give us a call when you’re ready for them. Jack can deliver the bags to you so you won’t have to be near that professor ever again.”

“He’ll probably figure out a way to
put all the blame on
me
.” Angie slumped in her seat. Her limp body matched her mood. What a failure she’d turned into. But, she refused to participate in a pity party. She had a marriage to repair.  Turning to the Bakers, she said, “Jack, if you can drop my suitcases off at the hospital later today, I’d appreciate it.”