Damaged Page 11

  “I’ve answered everything you’ve asked of me but you keep harassing me.” Ms. Kachel’s forehead flexed as she chewed. “You’re picking on CeCe because a few women didn’t like him.”

  “Your nephew has a serious problem with women,” Connie said. “He stalked and harassed Jeanette, which seems to be his M.O.”

  “Jeanette Dobbins was trash.” Ms. Kachel’s nose rose. “She was a two-bit cocktail waitress with no future. I can’t see what he wanted with her, anyway.”

  “Miss Dobbins was a beautiful and kind woman doing her best to make ends meet for her and her three-year-old son,” Connie said. “Which I need to remind you has been growing up without his mother.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive but my nephew didn’t kill her. He was cleared.”

  “Unfortunately, killers get cleared all the time,” Winston said.

  “See?” Kachel pointed at him. “You guys have it made up in your head that my nephew’s this monster but he’s not. For your information, CeCe and Jeanette went out on a few dates but she dumped him for no reason, wouldn’t accept his calls, and stopped talking to him. Who does that?”

  “A woman who’s afraid,” Connie said. “Jeanette saw warning signs with CeCe that gave her pause.”

  Kachel huffed. “He’s a sweet and gentle person who’s—”

  “Misunderstood.” Winston rolled his eyes. “Seems like the only person who doesn’t understand your nephew is you.” He leaned over on the desk. “When will you accept that your nephew has a couple screws loose concerning females?”

  “He likes beautiful women.” Kachel slammed her eyes shut. “Is that so strange?”

  “No.” Connie leaned to the side, sticking her foot out. “But, to keep asking women out when they’ve said no, following them, and cornering them in dark parking lots is strange. Say he is innocent of killing Prisha and Jeanette, but I bet you he’s gonna do something to a woman one day. I’ve been around men like him before and the tendencies get worse, not better.”

  “I will protect my nephew until the day I die.” Kachel pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  That night, Connie’s doorbell rang just as she finished cooking the beef cutlets. “Just a minute!” She hurried to the front door and checked the peephole. “What the hell?”

  CeCe Babbitt stood on her front porch with flowers and candy.

  Connie held her breath, cracking open the door. “CeCe?”

  His mouth widened into a huge smile, showing his front teeth. “Hello, Detective Wilks.” He gazed at her with his head to the side. “Am I interrupting you?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought these for you.” His watched her with a glassy gaze. “Here you go.” He held out the assorted flowers and heart-shaped box. “I hope you like flowers and candy.”

  “Um..” She took the items. “Why would you bring me flowers and candy?”

  He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “Why not?”

  “Some would say this isn’t appropriate.”

  “I wanted to do something nice for you.” He put his hands in his pockets.

  “It’s...it’s sweet of you.” She faked a smile. “But, you shouldn’t have.” She set the candy and flowers on the grayish-green console table by the door. “Is there something else you wanted?”

  “May I come in?” He inched forward.

  “Uh—”

  “I heard you spoke to my aunt again.” He glanced at her blouse. “I’d like to clear up any misconceptions you might have about me.” He licked his lips with an eerie glint in his eyes. “Can we talk?”

  Without answering, she slammed the door and watching him through the peephole.

  CeCe remained in his spot, staring at the door.

  Connie got her cellphone out her jeans and peeked at CeCe as she selected Winston’s number.

  “Hey, Connie,” Winston answered. “What’s up?”

  “You won’t believe this.” She watched CeCe who paced on her stoop with his head down. “CeCe Babbitt is at my house. He brought me flowers and candy.”

  “What?” Winston half-chuckled. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “I’m not.” She rubbed the top of her head. “He’s just standing there on the porch looking crazy. Says he wants to talk.”

  “Then talk to him. Maybe he wants to confess or something.”

  She took another deep breath, fidgeting.

  “Are you afraid?” He sighed. “Thinking about Larose?”

  “I’m a cop.” She shut her eyes. “I shouldn’t be afraid to open my damn door.”

  “You want me to come over there and we can talk to him together?”

  She glanced out the peephole again.

  CeCe rocked with his arms crossed.

  “I can if you want me to,” Winston said.

  “No. I’ll talk to him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, like you said he might want to confess or something and I might be the only person he’ll talk to if he likes me.”

  “Okay, call me and let me know what he says.”

  “I will. Thanks, Winston.”

  “Sure.”

  She hung up, got her gun from the living room and answered the front door.

  Once again, the goofy smile covered CeCe’s face. “Why did you close the door?”

  “Uh—”

  “Do I scare you?” He sighed. “I do, don’t I? You think I’m strange like everyone else.”

  “No. Please come in.”

  “Thanks.” He walked in, checking out the hallway. “Your place is nice.” He touched the console table. “I like the table. Do you like the flowers?” He got the bouquet. “I like the green paper they wrapped them in.” He chuckled. “It matches your pretty eyes.”

  Connie took them. “Thanks again. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

  “I could use some water.” He rubbed the sides of his jeans. “Thanks.”

  “Okay.” She led him into the living room. “Please have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded, smiling.

  Connie laid the flowers on the table when she got into the kitchen. After grabbing the water jug from the refrigerator, she turned right into CeCe. “Ah!”

  “Sorry.” He exhaled.

  “CeCe.” Connie exhaled, smashing the cup and jug to her chest. “I told you to wait in the living room.”

  “Sorry.” He chuckled through dry lips. “I thought you might’ve needed help.”

  “No, Jesus.” She struggled to hold the cup still so she could pour the water into it.

  “You’re shaking. Damn it.” He hit his forehead. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s okay.” She handed him the cup of water. “Is there anything else you need?”

  He sipped, staring at her. “No, thank you.”

  “We can talk in here if you like.” She sat at the kitchen table, taking a big breath.

  He scooted a chair close to her before sitting. “Your kitchen’s pretty.” He touched the pleated, white tablecloth. “Everything’s white.”

  She nodded.

  “White fridge.” He pointed to it. “White stove.” He tapped his feet. “White tile. Is white your favorite color?”

  “No, it just worked out this way.”

  “What’s your favorite color?” He put his elbow on the table and propped his hand under his chin.

  “Maroon.”

  “Maroon?” His eyes rolled skyward. “I bet you look great in maroon. You’d look great in anything.”

  She cleared her throat, pulling on her blouse. “What did you wanna talk about—”

  “Are you a natural blonde?”

  “Yes.” She pushed her hands between her thighs.

  “Are you from Baltimore?” He straightened in the chair.

  “I am.”

  “Your parents still living?” He nibbled his thumb. “Family here?”

  “I’d like to
get to know you, CeCe.”

  “You have a boyfriend?” He looked at her ring finger. “You live here alone, right?”

  “Yes, I live alone.” Her gun pressed against her butt when she wiggled. “And, yes I have a boyfriend.”

  “Hm.” He moved his lips in and out. “He’s a lucky guy. Is it Detective Lewis? I thought maybe you and he had something going.”

  She laughed. “Oh, no. Winston and I are just friends. I’m dating Grayson Paul.”

  “The Grayson Paul?” He dropped his arm from the table. “Grayson Paul the writer?”

  She nodded.

  “No way,” he howled. “I love his work. Wow.” He covered his mouth. “Man, I wish I could meet him. You’re Grayson Paul’s girlfriend?”

  Connie beamed with pride.

  “On one hand I’m disappointed you got a boyfriend but I’m ecstatic it’s one of my favorite writers. Do you think you could get me his autograph?”

  “Eh, we’ll see.”

  “Grayson Paul.” He bounced in the seat. “Man, wait until my aunt hears this. She loves his work too.”

  “Your aunt told you we spoke to her earlier?”

  He gnashed his teeth. “I didn’t kill Prisha.”

  “You were a suspect in Jeanette Dobbins’ murder, weren’t you?”

  He balled his fist, shaking.

  “Wanna talk about that?”

  “I thought she was different.” His cheeks reddened. “But, she was just like the others. They tried to pin her murder on me, but I didn’t do it. That’s why I got off.”

  “CeCe?” She touched his hand. “You can be honest with me. I’d like to help you anyway I can. Did Prisha make you angry?”

  He looked away from her, rocking. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “All I wanted to do was be her friend.” His mouth twitched. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be to those women but they misjudge me. Women talk about me behind my back and make fun of me. They think I don’t see it or hear it but I do.” He pressed his lips together. “They think they’re better than me.”

  “I bet that’s a bad feeling, huh?”

  “Why are women so afraid of me?” He turned toward her. “I’m a nice guy. I just like pretty girls. Is that so bad?”

  “Is there anything you want to tell me about Prisha?”

  “She deserved what she got.” He rubbed his knuckles. “If she’d treated me better, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t kill her but her murder was karma just like Jeanette’s.” He rocked faster. “Why do women think they can treat people anyway they like and get away with it? They have men jumping over hoops with no intentions of giving them a chance. They smile and flirt and bat their eyes then when you take them up on it they scream harassment or rape.”

  Connie shuddered.

  “Women whine about equal rights and not having their fair share but if you ask me they own this whole world fuckin’ world. Men cater to women and get nothing in return. Not even a cup of coffee or a phone call.” He squinted. “Nothing but accusations and lies.”

  “Sounds like you have deep resentment for women.”

  “I’m a lover not a killer.” He stood, gaze penetrating her. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

  Connie noticed the protrusion in the seat of his pants. “CeCe—”

  He licked his lips as he watched hers. “I’d better go now before I...”

  She hooked her quivering fingers. “Before you what?”

  “Nothing.” He turned from her, covering his crotch as if ashamed of the erection. “If you and Grayson break up, let me know, okay?” He rushed out the kitchen.

  Connie waited until the front door slammed and let out a huge breath.

  “Jesus.” She shook her head, batting her eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next night, Connie and Winston rushed through the halls of the police station, while the officers brought the sobbing, handcuffed Travis Crawford into the booking area.

  Winston grabbed an officer. “What the hell happened with Travis Crawford?”

  “Travis shot Charlie Gere,” the officer said.

  “What?” Connie gasped.

  “Yeah, he claims it was self-defense and Gere was beating his mother.”

  “Oh my god.” Connie covered her mouth.

  Winston moved as another crop of arrestees passed. “Send Travis upstairs to room A okay?” he instructed the officer. “We want to talk to him first.”

  “Yes, sir.” The cop nodded. “Getting right on it.” He zipped from the crowd.

  “Come on.” Winston and Connie jumped on the nearest elevator and got to the detectives’ floor.

  “I can’t believe this.” Winston hopped out the elevator, breathless. “Talk about throwing a wrench, huh?”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Connie hurried beside him and toward the interrogation room. “I wonder how Charlie’s doing?”

  “Hey.” Winston stopped a female cop in the hallway. “Can you get us some information on Charlie Gere’s shooting? Contact the hospital for us?”

  “Yes, sir.” The officer darted away.

  ****

  “I don’t know how this happened.” Travis laid his face on the table, sobbing. “Charlie and I don’t get along, but I didn’t mean for this to happen. Can I see my mom?”

  “Not yet.” Winston maneuvered his gun belt and sat beside him. “What happened?”

  “They got in another argument about Kathleen.” Travis sucked his lip. “Mom couldn’t let it go and didn’t believe he wasn’t cheating again. Charlie had her pinned on the kitchen floor, strangling her.”

  “The same way Prisha died,” Connie said.

  “Charlie’s temper is out of this world. You’ve seen samples of it. When his rage reaches a certain level, he can’t control it.” He wailed with his hands over his face. “God, how can this happen? If only Mom had listened when I told her to get away.”

  “What happened, Travis?” Connie asked.

  “I first tried to get him off her but I couldn’t. She was screaming and crying. I ran to my room and got my gun.”

  Winston touched the table. “It was your gun?”

  “Yes, I keep a gun around the house for protection. It’s registered and everything. I came back into the kitchen and I warned Charlie to stop but he wouldn’t. I closed my eyes, prayed, and shot.” He shut his eyes. “Hit him in the lower back.”

  “Then what?” Connie crossed her legs.

  “Mom was screaming at the top of her lungs and I was in shock. We kept checking Charlie and begging him to get up but he was in so much pain and blood was everywhere. I called the police, and that’s the story.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in.” Winston stood.

  The female officer who Winston had instructed to get more info concerning Charlie’s condition, entered. “May I speak to you, Detectives?”

  Connie and Winston followed her into the hall.

  “I have bad news about Charlie Gere.” The officer secured her clipboard under her arm. “He didn’t make it.”

  Connie grabbed Winston’s arm. “What?”

  “He died on the way to the hospital. He’d lost too much blood.”

  Winston fell against the wall. “Jesus.

  ****

  “You sure this’ll work?” Dee mixed the herbal sedative into the glass of nonalcoholic cocktail.

  Rena nodded, peeking outside Dee’s bedroom. “It’ll take a few minutes but give him enough and he’ll be out like a light.”

  “Shit, should’ve used a cup.” Dee lifted the glass, noting the cloudiness forming in the center of the peachy drink. “Think he’ll notice?”

  “No. Just make sure you distract him.” Rena smiled. “You’re good at that.”

  Dee set the glass for Jonathan beside hers. “Hope I don’t get them mixed up. Thanks, Rena.” She ga
ve her a slight hug. “I appreciate this.”

  “If this all goes well, you’ll be gone.” She sighed, rubbing Dee’s back. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Come with me. There’s nothing for you here and Jonathan’s dangerous. If he finds out you helped me no telling what he’d—”

  “Deidra?” Jonathan knocked on the door.

  She jumped, patting her hair. “Come in.”

  Rena stood erect, sticking out her bosom.

  “Well.” Jonathan entered. “Nothing like walking into a bedroom with two beautiful women. Deidra, you’re glowing, darling.” He kissed her cheek. “You smell so good.”

  “Made your favorite. A sparkling peach cocktail minus the booze.”

  He reached for the glass on the right but she handed him the one on the left.

  “Here you go.” She plastered on a huge smile. “Hope you like it.”

  He sipped from the square glass and smacked his lips afterwards. “It’s perfect.” He put his arm around her waist. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Dee put her hands on his shoulders, imagining strangling the life out of him.

  “I’ll give you two privacy.” Rena gave Dee an allusive glance and left.

  The silver in Jonathan’s eyes twinkled. “Every day I look at you and wonder how the hell I made it before I knew you.” He sipped the cocktail as he caressed her backside with his other hand. “I’ll never let you go.”

  “You love me, Jonathan?”

  He batted, eyes dazed. “I’ll never love a woman like I love you.”

  “What’s your definition of love?” She folded the collar of his black shirt. “Does it mean that you’d sacrifice anything for me to be happy?”

  He kissed her with a loud smack. “I’d do anything for you. Ooh.” He wobbled, rubbing his stomach. “Hm.”

  “What?”

  He held onto her. “Whoa.”

  “You okay?” She helped him to the bed.

  “I’m dizzy.” He squinted, grimacing. “What did you do?”

  “Excuse me?” Dee took his glass.

  “What the...?” He held his head. “What did you do, Deidra?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “What the fuck did you do?” he shouted, drooling. “You put something in my drink?”