When Rain Falls (25 page)

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Authors: Tyora M. Moody

BOOK: When Rain Falls
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Chapter Forty-nine
The driver wasn't looking too good. Mitch Harris sat slumped against the car, his eyes wide open, staring at nothing in particular. His green silk shirt was dark around the neck area. In the middle of the darkness was a gaping hole. He didn't have a chance to survive that one. Without any feedback from forensics, Darnell knew the shooter had hit a major artery. He observed the driver's seat. No blood inside the vehicle, only on the outside.
The scene, at first glance, looked suspiciously like the crime scene two weeks ago with Pamela Coleman. What this all meant, Darnell hoped to grasp very soon. He walked over to Lou, the medical examiner. “Any idea how this happened?”
“Well, as far as I can tell, it looks like the perp waited for him in the garage. He or she could have easily hidden in the corner over there.” Lou pointed his finger to indicate the direction. “The victim was shot from the back side as he exited the vehicle. We will have to see if we can retrieve the bullet when we get him to the autopsy.”
“Who called it in?”
“Housekeeper. She had been cleaning for some time. When she entered the kitchen, she noticed the garage door open. She came out here to quite a surprise.”
Darnell switched his attention from the body to the garage door, and then to the door leading to the house. Mitch Harris lived in a gated neighborhood. Somebody had to have access, as well as the ability to get past the alarm system.
“Is the housekeeper still here?”
“Yeah, but I have to warn you, her English is not that good.”
“Did she say how she got in?”
“Guess she has a key. Came in through the front door.”
“Thanks, Lou. Keep me updated.”
The older woman with dark hair streaked with gray sat on a bench near the kitchen window. Her head was held down. This wasn't the same housekeeper Darnell had met when he visited the Harris home the first time. Brunson stood a few feet from the woman.
“What do you think about all this?” Darnell asked.
Brunson shook his head. “For starters, similar MO as Pamela. Somebody likes to catch people with their back turned and prefers garages as the crime scene. Gots to be the same person.”
Darnell rubbed his hand across his forehead and blew out a breath. “Except the weapon used. Pamela's head was bashed in. Mitch was shot at point-blank range. Couldn't be a copycat. We purposely didn't release a lot of details from Pamela's house.” Something else bothered him even more. “You know something else strange?”
Brunson asked, “What?”
“I have to admit, when I saw the black car, the first thing I thought was that this could be the car that had followed Candace last night.” The black Ford Expedition made a perfect candidate, too.
“Yeah, but why would Mitch Harris bother Candace? We had nothing on him to pin him as a suspect in Pamela's murder. And if it was him, he sure had one heck of a surprise when he got home.”
Two uniformed policemen came through the door.
Darnell raised his eyebrow. “You guys find anything?”
One of the police officers spoke up. “Well, yes and no.”
The shorter one added, “It doesn't appear to be a robbery. A lot of valuable items are in place.”
“Yeah, but we thought you might want to see this. It was in the bedroom,” said the other officer.
Darnell stuck out his hand to take the plastic-covered item the officer held out to them. It was a cutout from a newspaper showing Pamela walking out of the courthouse. In the background was Mitch Harris. Someone had circled the two lovers with a red lipstick.
Darnell heard Brunson suck in his breath. “Somebody wanted to make a point.”
“Yeah, I'm going to try to talk to the housekeeper to see if she saw anything.” Darnell turned toward the woman. “Hello.
Hola.
Where's Mrs. Harris?”
The housekeeper looked confused.
He spoke slower. “The woman who hired you. Has she been here?”
“Oh no. She's out of town.”
How convenient.
“When will she be back?”
“I don't know. Today I think.”
A woman's screams halted all the activity in the room. “Mitch. No! Mitch!”
Brunson looked at him. “Well, looks like the lady of the house has returned.”
“Right on time. I can't wait to hear her story.” Darnell headed back outside to find a female officer restraining a hysterical Yvonne. Either the woman was putting on a really good show or she was really grieving the loss of her adulterous husband.
He'd find out soon enough.
Chapter Fifty
Candace bit down on her lip, drawing a metallic taste in her mouth. Her mind spun from all the information he'd sprung on her. He really was withholding information.
Some real doozies
. Did Pamela know? Was this what her friend wanted to tell her?
All those years ago, during the trial, Frank had been stretched beyond the breaking point. He was a really good cop. Candace knew how much he thrived on following the rules. He'd never intentionally hurt anyone. No one knew all the nights Frank lay awake or chose to sleep in the recliner, haunted by that young man's death.
All three officers were convinced the suspect intended to pull a gun out of his coat pocket. The boy ran several blocks from the police, so he was clearly resisting arrest. Why the boy ran and why he didn't hold up his hands, instead of pulling out what was only a wallet, no one would know. Frank and all the officers paid their dues for the young man's death.
Apparently, this Avante fellow didn't think so. Candace shuddered. Was he the one who'd followed her last night? What if he had tried to push his way into the house? She didn't want her children to ever witness the kind of violence she had seen as a child.
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
There was another one of those Bible verses her aunt had had her memorize. She gripped the mug, gulping down the last remnants of coffee. God had truly shielded her from harm last night.
Lord, I need to trust you now more than ever. You keep taking the rug out from under me, taking away people I love.
She dropped her head into her hands.
“Candace, are you okay?”
She wiped her eyes. “Yes, Mama Beulah. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Honey, I'm here until you kick me out.”
“I appreciate you. Did you ever get Tangie on the phone?”
“I told her what happened, and she said to take it easy. All appointments for today have been rescheduled. Candace, you are shaking. Are you cold?”
A chill penetrated her body. She wasn't sick or feeling ill. “I guess I'm still shook up.” She laughed, weakly.
Beulah laid her arm across Candace's shoulders. “I was scared for you last night. I don't think I slept, either. It's a good thing we closed the salon. We might have messed up some clients' hair today.”
Candace giggled uncontrollably. “Beulah, you are a nut. What would I do without you?”
“Vice versa. Candy, you mean the world to me. How about a hug, sugar?”
Candace relished her dear friend's bone-crushing hug. Despite the warm support, she still felt a bit like Chicken Little, except her sky had already fallen.
“I still don't understand. This man has wanted revenge all this time. It's not going to bring his brother back.” That was something she knew for sure. “You know, for the longest time, I hated my mother's killer. But as time went on, it was best to let it go.”
Beulah shook her head. “Grief has an incredible crushing impact on one's spirit. Especially when violence is involved. You've told me many times how your aunt Maggie raised you up believing in God. He will come through for us even when things get crazy. That forgiveness thing is an important piece to us staying sane.”
The wall-mounted phone shrilled from across the kitchen.
Beulah prodded Candace. “Why don't you answer that? It's going to be fine. No need to worry.”
Candace wasn't so sure, but she answered the phone. “Hello.”
A nasally feminine voice inquired, “May I speak to Candace Johnson?”
“Yes. Who's speaking?”
“This is Security Alarms. We have reports that the alarm went off at Crown of Beauty Salon. Are you the owner?”
“Yes, I am. Have the police been dispatched?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Beulah rush over and hovered beside her.
“They should arrive at the place of business within the next five to ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” Candace hung up the phone. “I need to go. The alarm system went off at the salon.”
“Wait, let me go with you.”
“No, Beulah, I need you stay here. It won't take long. Besides, if I'm not back in an hour, I would like it if you could pick up Rachel and Daniel from school.”
“Are you sure? Well, shouldn't you call someone to let them know where you are going?”
“There will be cops there by the time I arrive. It will be fine.” Candace brushed past Beulah and grabbed her purse from the table.
“Candace, wait. Before you go ... This doesn't feel right. I think we need to pray.”
“No argument here.” She clasped Beulah's hands. The older woman squeezed her hands back tightly.
“Father God, we want to thank you for bringing Candace home safe last night. Please send your angels to protect your precious daughter. Keep her safe under your wings. We ask these things in Jesus's name, Amen.”
Candace looked into Beulah's eyes. “I will be back soon.”
Dark rain clouds rolled in, along with a biting wind. Sweater weather had indeed arrived in the South. She had a strong urge to go back inside the house, where it was warm and safe.
It will be all right
. She repeated the mantra over and over again as she started the car and then backed out of the driveway. The police would be there, and everything would be fine.
Lord, keep me safe.
Chapter Fifty-one
Darnell waited for Yvonne to compose herself. The housekeeper had brought her a glass of water, but her hands shook as she gulped the water. Water droplets fell down the side of her mouth. She wiped her mouth with the tissues in her hand.
Yvonne spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “How was he killed?”
Darnell cleared his throat. “The medical examiner will have more details after the autopsy.”
Yvonne's face crumpled into tears again.
He leaned forward. “Mrs. Harris, I know this is a difficult time for you, but we need to ask if you noticed anything strange around the house recently. I understand you've been out of town.”
“Yes. I left town yesterday afternoon to see my mother. She's in a nursing home in Greensboro. I drive up to see her as often as I can. You know, this past weekend with the scholarship benefit, I wasn't able to drive up.”
“Was everything okay between you two before you left?”
“Yes, yes. Mitch and I are fine. He knew I was going out of town. Sometimes he would go with me... .” A glazed look appeared on her face as she stared at an area on the carpet.
Darnell feared the woman was going into shock. “Mrs. Harris, are you all right?”
She whispered, “Where is he?”
“They're taking good care of your husband.” He needed her to concentrate. “I noticed you have a new housekeeper. Has anyone else new been on the property?”
“I hire new people all the time. No one does their job anymore. A new landscaper started Monday.”
“I'm assuming you do background checks on these new employees.” Yvonne didn't answer. He wasn't going to get into whether or not they were illegal. “Did any former employees leave on a bad note? Anyone you didn't collect a key from, perhaps?”
“No. When I send people on their way, I pay them very well for their services. Also, only the housekeeper is allowed a key to the house. That lock is changed often. The last girl didn't come back, so I had to hire someone else. Mitch hates the place to look messy. When did you say I could see him?”
“Soon, Mrs. Harris.” She was talking like she expected to see her husband alive. “Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to share with me?”
The woman closed her eyes. “I don't know if this will help, but the man, the one who I had take those photos, he's been harassing me.”
Darnell remembered Candace saying she'd overheard a similar conversation at the church. “Was he wanting more money?”
“Yes, he's a real lowlife trying to be somebody he's not. I'm sure he probably made money off of those photos from the media. The last time we talked on the phone, he spurted all kinds of craziness, like I owed him money. The jerk tried to make it seem like I sold the photos to the media. I finally told Mitch. He told me he'd take care of it.”
Yvonne bent her head down, consumed by tears again.
“Mrs. Harris, I need a name.”
“I really wish I had not listened to Hillary. I was only doing her a favor.”
“Hillary Green?”
“Mitch's secretary. Hillary. Oh, she is so fond of Avante. She told me how good he was with a camera. And I really was impressed with his exhibit.”
“Avante Lafayette? Let me get this straight. He's the one you paid to take the photos and the one who has been harassing you?”
“Yes. Very talented artist, just a creepy person, though. I even convinced some of my friends to purchase his work. See over there? Those two paintings on the wall are from his collection.”
Darnell glanced at the paintings, recognizing the style. He was starting to get a picture in his mind, and he didn't like it. Mitch Harris had been Frank Johnson's defense lawyer. He essentially was the one who convinced the jury to give an acquittal. This man had his mind set on revenge against anyone who he thought should pay for his brother's death. If Mitch had appointed himself to confront Avante, he might have walked into a trap, a setup by one warped mind.
Yvonne held her hand to her forehead. “I don't know if he would hurt anyone. But he's a strange young man. Always uptight.”
You have no idea, lady
. “Thank you, Mrs. Harris. We will be in touch.”
He hurried outside to the crime scene. It was time to find this man. He had to still be in Charlotte somewhere. They had enough reasons now to drag him in.
“Hey, Brunson, let's ride downtown to the art gallery. We got a real masterpiece to find for questioning.”

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