When Rain Falls (3 page)
Authors: Tyora M. Moody
Chapter Four
He hated this part. Darnell hesitated at the door, scanning the white sofas, Oriental rug, and large paintings. A fireplace took center stage, the mantle lined with exotic statues. People were everywhere in the room. He could fit his entire apartment in this area alone. Pamela Coleman had spent her money well. Too bad she wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of it.
Through the bustle of investigators and police officers, Darnell caught sight of Judge Coleman staring out the bay window; the sun rays highlighted his tuft of silver hair. He crossed the expansive space and stopped in front of the man. “Judge Coleman?”
The man turned and stared at Darnell. It was difficult to guess the judge's age, but he seemed wilted despite his tall frame, his grief embedded in the creases around his eyes.
“Yes, and you are?” The judge's deep baritone voice bounced off the walls.
“I'm Detective Jackson.” He held his arm out toward the judge, but the man stared down at his hand as though it was some alien life form. Darnell placed his arm back at his side and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry about your loss, sir. I understand you found the ... her.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you can share with us? Did you know about your daughter's plans last night?”
“I don't know. There's no telling with that girl.”
Girl
. It seemed strange to hear the woman summed up as merely a girl. Then again, this was her father.
. It seemed strange to hear the woman summed up as merely a girl. Then again, this was her father.
“I believe she attended an art gallery opening last night.”
Startled, Darnell whipped his head to the side. He hadn't noticed the woman sitting in the corner of the bay window. Was this Pamela's mother? The older woman's slight frame seemed fragile compared to her daughter's almost Amazon features.
“Mrs. Coleman, I'm sorry I didn't see you. Do you know if she went alone?”
Pamela's mother glanced at him with her red-rimmed eyes and then peered down at her hands. She twisted and squeezed her fingers with such an intensity, Darnell thought she might injure herself. Her voice barely above a whisper, she replied, “I'm not aware if she had a date.”
Seemed strange that she wouldn't know. Darnell prodded. “Was she currently dating anyone?”
Desiree Coleman shook her head and sniffled softly. The judge moved closer to his wife but didn't touch her. He instead crossed his arms. “Pamela lived her own life. We learned not to interfere.” The judge choked. “That might have been a mistake. Find who did this.”
Darnell nodded his head. “Yes, sir, we're on it.”
The judge shifted to his full height and pointed his finger toward Darnell. “You better. She was ... my only child.”
Darnell shifted his eyes to peer out the window but still caught the tears that flooded the old man's eyes.
A movement from the doorway caught his attention. He started to groan but stopped himself, remembering the Colemans were nearby. For the umpteenth time, he regretted losing his day off.
Captain Walter Ransom rarely made an appearance at a crime scene, which meant long days and sleepless nights were ahead for sure. The man showed his face for press conferences but remained more of a fixture in the office. Right now his girth almost filled the doorway. The captain's sharp eyes assessed the room, and then he turned toward the corner where Darnell stood. With more speed than Darnell realized Ransom had, the captain trekked across the room. His thick brown glasses slid to their familiar perch on his nose as he stopped in front of the judge. “Judge Coleman, Mrs. Coleman. We're sorry for your loss. I hope you know we will do everything in our power to find the person responsible.” Ransom then eyed Darnell. “Detective, can we talk for a moment?”
Darnell followed the captain, staring at the bald spot in the center of his head.
Once out in the hallway, Captain Ransom wasted no time. “So, what you got?”
“I'm afraid we don't have much to go on yet. We believe she attended an art gallery opening last night, so we will gather a list of people who attended the event. Not sure whether she went alone. If she didn't, it may be that someone surprised her on the way back home.”
“Well, we need to move quickly.” The captain rubbed his hand over the grayish tufts on the sides of his head. “Judge Coleman is in shock right now, but when it wears off, he will get ugly, and fast. He didn't have the best relationship with his daughter, but she was his only child.”
Darnell yanked on his tie. “Yeah, I know.” He didn't doubt this whole affair would blow up in the media. A few minutes ago, through the bay window, he'd seen television vans beginning to line the street.
Brunson walked out of a room farther down the hallway and approached them with something in his hand. He nodded at the captain. “Captain, surprised seeing you here. CSIs are looking for any signs of forced entry. So we went through the vic's office, looking for anything that might help. The techs are taking her computer to review the files. Did find this.” Brunson held a black planner in his hand.
Darnell reached for the organizer. The woman had a BlackBerry and a regular calendar. Seemed awfully organized. Maybe that was why she was the best attorney money could buy. He flipped to the week in question. Only one entry had been scribbled in. Nothing about the art gallery. “It doesn't seem like she used this much. Maybe her main schedule was kept on the BlackBerry.” He looked at the writing again, then at his watch. There was something familiar about the place mentioned. “You know, Pamela may have used this for more personal appointments. According to this, Pamela should have been at a Crown of Beauty Salon this morning. Women do talk. Somebody might be able to tell us some information, especially if Ms. Coleman was involved with someone.”
Brunson's piercing blue eyes clouded as he cleared his throat. “I'm sure Candace could help us out.”
Darnell tried to decipher the exchange between his partner and the captain. They seem to be talking about something with their eyes. After a second, the captain frowned and responded, “Frank's wife.”
Brunson shook his head. “They were friends. I remember when Frank was ... She would be over at the house. She's the godmother to the daughter.”
Feeling like a kid shut out of grown-ups' conversation, Darnell asked, “Candace. Frank. Who are these people?”
“Frank Johnson. Now that was a real cop.” Brunson's voice caught. “My partner for ten years. No one can replace him. Let's go. If Candace knows, she's going to be broken up.”
Darnell watched his partner walk away, the words slicing him up inside.
A real cop. No one can replace him.
Well, that sealed the deal on how much his partner disliked him.
A real cop. No one can replace him.
Well, that sealed the deal on how much his partner disliked him.
Chapter Five
On the way back to the styling booth, Candace recognized Hillary Green sitting in Beulah's booth. The woman was a relatively new customer, thanks to Pamela. Her hair, a salt-and-pepper mix, was long and thick. She always requested the same bun, though. This defeated the purpose of Pamela's mission to get the woman a makeover.
“Mrs. Green, how are you today? Y'all keeping busy over there at the Harris and Harris Law Firm?”
The woman looked up from her magazine and smiled at Candace. “We're very proud of Pamela, as usual.”
“She must have decided to go in to work today.”
“Oh no, she had the day off.”
“That's what I thought. She should have been here by now.”
Hillary's eyes grew wide. “She didn't mention she had an appointment. I did see her last night at the art gallery reception. Maybe she slept in late this morning. You know these court cases take a lot out of a person.”
That was true, but Candace knew, no matter what, Pamela would be up at the crack of dawn. Tardiness really wasn't Pamela's thing, either. A sense of uneasiness flooded her body. Again.
It was the dream playing tricks on her. Everything would be fine.
Before she started rolling her client's hair, she leaned closer to the booth mirror and played with the ends of her own hair. The chin-length bob was a good choice for her small facial features, but she missed her long hair. Frank loved her hair long. What he didn't like was the makeup she wore.
Couldn't be helped. In order to hide her acne scars, she kept her caramel skin covered with makeup. Right now the almond cream foundation she was currently trying out felt stifling. Or maybe this was an official sign of premenopause. Who knows? Her whole sense of well-being had grown out of whack. She felt old. Old and worn, like her favorite brown loafers.
Candace moved away from the mirror and grabbed a spray bottle filled with blue liquid and sprayed the setting lotion on the wet hair. One by one she added rollers. She looked up to catch Tangie strolling from the back office. It was time to get
sista
friend started on something. “Tangie, can you turn on the television in the waiting room and then start unpacking the new shipment of supplies?”
sista
friend started on something. “Tangie, can you turn on the television in the waiting room and then start unpacking the new shipment of supplies?”
For a moment, the woman hesitated in the middle of the floor but then turned toward the television. Candace shook her head. Tangie wasn't quite thirty years old, but her behavior bore a strong resemblance to that of Candace's sixteen-year-old daughter.
In the mirror, she saw the television screen flicker to life, showing a yellow, spongy-looking figure dancing around the screen.
Tangie clicked the remote.
“Now we want to add a cup of ...”
Click.
“Lose weight with our ...”
Click.
Candace recognized the Channel 12 news anchorman. She turned her attention to Mrs. Roberts's humming. “I need Thee, O I need Thee. Every hour I need Thee.”
Candace always enjoyed listening to the woman's melodies. Something about the songs stirred up pleasant memories.
“O bless me now, my Savior, I come to Thee.”
“Oh no!” Tangie yelled, interrupting Candace's thoughts.
Candace turned her attention to where Tangie stood under the mounted television. Her eyes locked on the image. She knew that face. Despite the ceiling fan moving softly above, her face radiated warmth. Behind her, Mrs. Roberts continued to hum, sounding louder.
“I need Thee, O I need Thee.”
She strained to hear the newscast.
“Every hour I need Thee.”
“Oh, my precious Jesus! Turn the volume up, Tangie,” Beulah yelped.
The more the volume increased, the more difficult it seemed for Candace to hear. A tremor started in her hands, working its way up her arms, spreading across her chest. She felt so warm. Her body swayed and then crashed into the cart, scattering rollers, combs, and pins across the salon floor. Silence wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
Chapter Six
Any other time in his life, this many women hawking him would have been heaven sent. Darnell averted his eyes from the women now looking him up and down. He preferred the usual chatter found in most salons, instead of the funeral parlor atmosphere. In the corner a television played, with Pamela Coleman's image on the screen.
He smiled as he approached the counter, where an older woman sat on the phone. Now he understood why the name Crown of Beauty seemed familiar to him. Darnell walked up and flashed his badge to get her attention.
“Miss Ann, let me call you back to reschedule, honey. Okay, you be good. Bye.” With wide eyes, the woman stared up at him. “Darnell Jackson, boy, you come here.” His aunt Beulah moved her ample body around the counter and squeezed him. She pulled back and checked him out. “I've been looking for you to come by and visit me for months now.”
“Beulah, you do know I'm a busy man.” He peered down into his aunt's round face, which looked so much like his deceased mother's. Then he frowned. “Interesting look you got going on there.” It took a special kind of woman to wear a blond 'fro. His aunt definitely fit the mold. Always the more outgoing one compared to her more conservative sister, his mother. He rubbed his hand down his own low cut. “Maybe I'll get you to do something with my hair.”
Beulah smacked him slightly on his arm. “Boy, you ain't changed none.” Her face turned serious. “Are you here to see Candace? I sure didn't want you two to meet this way.”
“Huh?” Darnell didn't quite know what his aunt meant, but before he could find out, he was interrupted.
“Beulah, is Candace here?” From behind Darnell's shoulder, Brunson entered the salon.
Peeking around Darnell, Beulah squealed, “Brunson, is that you?” She threw her arms around a surprised Brunson. “I'm so glad you are here. I can't believe this. Darnell, why didn't you tell me Brunson was your partner?”
Brunson cleared his throat. “Beulah, it's good to see you, too. You haven't changed a bit, I see. So, how do you know Detective Jackson?”
“I practically raised him. Well, okay, well, maybe not all that, but he is the man he is today thanks to my older sister. Bless her heart. You know you gave usâ”
“Uh, Aunt Beulah, I don't think Brunson needs to hear all that.” Still astounded at how his aunt had managed to hug an old fogy like Brunson, he noticed Beulah's bright smile disappear. “I guess you two are here for more serious business. This is awful. We literally had to pick poor Candy up off the floor. How did this happen?”
Darnell answered, “We're still investigating, but I understand Pamela had an appointment this morning.”
“Candace has been looking for her all morning. Those girls were tight. Kind of like flesh and blood sisters. Oh my, y'all be careful when you talk to her. This, Lord Jesus, this is the last thing Candy needed.”
Following his partner toward the back of the salon, Darnell felt more apprehensive talking to this woman than to Pamela's parents. Brunson knocked on the door.
A soft voice answered from behind the door. “Yes, come in.”
Though they were red-rimmed, Darnell couldn't help but be drawn to her striking almond-shaped eyes, despite the smudged mascara. Her hair flowed easily around her face, with some falling over one side. He could tell she'd been crying for some time; her makeup appeared splotchy on the cheeks.
He liked the natural look. What was the point in all that makeup?
“Brunson.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Candace's face as she stood. For the second time, Darnell watched as his grouchy partner received a hug. There must be something about Brunson he didn't quite get, even though they'd been partners a little over six months.
“Is it really true? Please say this is some type of mistake.” Candace's eyes pleaded with Brunson; her voice trailed off into a whisper.
Darnell stepped forward and stretched out his hand. “Mrs. Johnson, I'm Detective Darnell Jackson. Sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances.”
As she turned toward him, he had a strange thought as their eyes met. Darnell would have liked meeting Candace Johnson without having to be the bearer of bad news. This woman had lost her husband and now a close friend, and she seemed to be taking it all in, or she was in shock.
Candace reached out and shook his hand. Her hand was small and delicate in his. She slipped her hand out of his and sat down. Tears leaked down her cheeks.
Seeing a box of tissues at the corner of Candace's desk, Darnell reached for a few and passed them to her.
“Thank you, Detective. You know, I waited all morning for her to show up.” Candace choked up. “I called her, like, a hundred times. I knew something was wrong.”
Darnell said, “I'm sorry. This is a difficult time. Were you aware if Ms. Coleman had plans last night?”
“I know she had some event with the law firm. Some client had an opening at an art gallery. She invited me, but I really was too tired to attend.”
That confirmed what the parents, specifically Pamela's mother, had said earlier. If she'd asked her friend to attend and her friend turned down the invitation, did that mean Pamela attended the event alone?
A strangled laugh escaped Candace's throat. “We'd just met for lunch yesterday. The lunch was really about her checking up on me.” Candace looked over at Brunson, then back at Darnell. “Pamela ... thought I needed to stop grieving.”
Brunson barked, “What? It's barely been two years.” His shoulders drooped. “Man, I'm sorry.”
Silence consumed the room. Darnell assumed the uniformed man in the photo sitting on the shelf behind Candace was the deceased detective, Frank Johnson. Frank's wife and his former partner appeared to cling to their own memories for a long minute.
Darnell didn't want to break the silence, but he still needed to get an idea of Pamela's frame of mind. “You mentioned Pamela asked you to attend the art gallery event. Would there have been someone she took as a date last night?”
Candace remained quiet.
Darnell gently prodded her. “Anything you can think of is important.”
“How did she die?”
Not expecting the question, Darnell looked at Brunson. Was this a good idea? “Well, it's early in the investigation, but we did find her at home. Do you know if anyone Ms. Coleman knew would have access to her home?”
“Yes, her parents. I have a key. Never really had to use it. She normally likes to visit our home.” Candace put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “There is someone else.”
Brunson spoke up. “Candace, are you referring to a relationship?”
“Yes.” She blew out a breath. “We just talked about it yesterday. She told me it was over, but I didn't believe her. Things just went on and on. No closure.”
“Do you feel he would have harmed her?” Darnell asked, with his pen posed over his notebook.
Give me a name to work with here.
Give me a name to work with here.
A hint of anger flashed in her eyes. “I believe he would have done anything to keep the relationship a secret. He had more to lose.”
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