All I Want Is Forever (19 page)

“Good night,” Talia murmured.

“Bye,” he said shortly. “I'll contact Jim Rand if I find out anything else.”

“Thanks.” Talia didn't move. “There's no reason we have to avoid each other.”

“Yes, there is.” Derrick gripped the steering wheel.

“I see.” Talia twisted the thin strap of her small purse. “Derrick, I'm sorry.”

“Right.”

Talia opened the door but looked at him. Derrick continued to stare ahead. She got out of the 4Runner and walked to the front porch. He sat in the driveway until she was inside, then the engine roared to life. She watched the red taillights fading into the distance. With a sigh, she closed the door and locked it. The ringing phone made her jump.

“Hello,” she said.

“You the one working with that senator, Jackson is his name,” a muffled male voice said. “Y'all are trying to get the mandatory-sentencing law changed. I read about it in the news.”

“Right. Are you a reporter?” Talia looked around for her notes. She had every intention of letting Senator Jackson get all the media attention. “Call his aide at—”

“I've got information that might help. Winn Barron is using one case in particular to show why the law shouldn't change. Monette Victor. He's got his own reasons for wanting her to stay in prison.”

“What? Who is this?” Talia shivered. The eerie voice gave her chills.

“I'll tell you what happened, but not right now. Meet me at the public library in Lafayette. Wednesday at ten o'clock.”

Talia got control of her fear. “Don't be ridiculous. If you know something, you should talk to the police, and—”

“Look, little girl, it took a lot for me to make this call. You want your mama out of prison or not?”

Talia had another thought suddenly. “How did you know about me?”

“You want answers, then meet me Wednesday.”

“Wait a minute,” Talia began.

There was a click and a dial tone. She started to call Derrick but stopped. Instead she looked up the street address of the Lafayette library in a phone book on Mama Rose's bookshelf.

 

Determined to find out the truth, Derrick set up a meeting the next day with Jerome Hines. Derrick tapped the eraser end of a pencil on his desk in frustration. Hines stared at him from hooded eyes. The man had a cunning way of saying a lot without answering any questions. They were alone in the office at seven in the evening. The rest of the staff was gone.

“Monette Victor had been picked up before by the police numerous times. You questioned her twice at least before this drug distribution conviction on unrelated cases.”

“I interviewed beaucoup people back then. You know how many poor Black kids jumped into coke back in the eighties? A lot, man.” Jerome shrugged.

“This town isn't all that big, Mr. Hines. You must remember her. She made a pretty big impression.” Derrick held up a photo of Monette wearing a form-fitting red dress.

“Those kinda women blend together after a while,” Hines said without looking at the picture.

“Okay.” Derrick dropped it back into the folder and closed it. “Nobody else is here. We can talk.”

“That's what we've been doing for…” Hines broke off and looked at his wristwatch. “Almost an hour.”

“No, we've been dancing around for almost an hour. Pardon me, but you're not my type.” Derrick gazed back at him with a stony expression.

“Son, I played this game while you were still sucking a pacifier. We're on the same team, okay?” Hines leaned back in his chair and propped an ankle across one knee. “Everything you want to know is right there.” He pointed to the stack of folders on Derrick's desk.

“Uh-uh, 'cause I want to know what
really
happened,” Derrick tossed back curtly. “Monette Victor was no big-time drug dealer. I can't find anything but a stitched-together case on her.”

“Yeah, well she was long overdue.” Hines let out a gruff laugh.

“Winn Barron seems intent on keeping her locked up more than the others. I keep asking myself why.”

“What are you talking about?” Hines seemed calm.

Derrick watched him closely. “He keeps calling my boss, had us pull the case to send him a report, and he's been asking about her visitors.”

“He's a politician. Some people might think it's a nasty way to get votes, but then politics is a nasty business.” Hines shrugged.

“I get a feeling this means a lot more to him than votes.”

“She was with those bums, they had a large amount of coke, and under the law they were
all
guilty.”

“So he wanted to clean up Pointe Coupee Parish and Monette Victor was a major source of dirt? Hardly.” Derrick held up one volume of the file, then let it drop with a slap.

“Every little bit helps,” Hines said, his expression
impassive. “Now if that's all, I'll be on my way.” He started to get up but stopped when Derrick spoke.

“For someone who is on my team, you sure don't seem to be forthcoming with information.”

“It's all in the files.” Hines leaned forward and squinted at Derrick. “Besides, I'm not real sure why I'm here. You gave your report to Barron. What's it to you?”

Derrick decided to take a gamble. “Monette Victor says she was set up.”

He didn't know that for sure, but he had a hunch. Monette was acting as though she had some secret weapon. She was being very cagey with her own lawyer. Derrick guessed that meant she was going after a real big dog. Barron was the biggest dog connected to the case. Hines sat up straight—a small sign, but enough to let Derrick know he'd struck a nerve.

“She'll say anything to get off. Look, son, I hear you're good. You must know better than to believe a woman like Monette.”

“She's got a credibility problem, I'll admit,” Derrick said with a lift of one shoulder.

“What an understatement.” Hines stood. “You're doing a damn good job covering all the bases. But don't worry. Her conviction was solid, and the parole board will see through her act.”

“I guess my boss doesn't want any unpleasant surprises. I mean, between you and me, all this attention from Barron has him wondering,” Derrick said casually.

Hines was about to turn away, but stopped. “What?”

“Don't get me wrong now. He hasn't come out and said so, but…Look, we both know how it is. They take care of each other.” Derrick raised his eyebrows.

“Uh-huh.” Hines watched him.

“Larry is going to help Barron out if there are any—let's say—minor bumps in the case.”

“And you're going to back your boss,” Hines replied.

“Larry is a good guy. Besides, he signs my paycheck.” Derrick put on a crooked smile.

“I heard he's pretty straight and narrow.” Hines rubbed his jaw and stared at the floor.

“He sure is. Hey, you're right. I don't see anything to support what this Victor woman is saying.” Derrick waved a hand as though dismissing her.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hines stuck out a hand. “Nice to see you're on your job.” He grinned.

Derrick shook his hand. “Thanks.”

“I don't miss it though. The late hours and dealing with thugs got old after fifteen years.” Hines looked around the office.

“I understand you came here after retiring from the army at a fairly young age. Nice.” Derrick nodded.

“Joined right out of high school. Put in my twenty years, got all the schooling I could, and took retirement,” Hines replied.

“And I hear you're a damn good investigator. Served as a lieutenant in the military police.”

Hines studied him for a few moments. “You've done your homework. Like any good investigator would before he talks to a potential witness.”

“You've had an interesting career.”

“So have you. You were a cop for two years before Perrilloux recruited you for this job. Since then you've taken a lot of criminal law courses.” Hines's mouth lifted in a slight smile.

“Like I said, you're a good investigator, too.” Derrick smiled back at him.

“Keep at it, son. You'll do fine.” Hines turned to leave.

“One more thing. Was Monette an informer for you guys? One of her boyfriends was from what I can tell.”
Derrick picked up a file and pretended to read a passage. “His name was Earl Glasper. He was just a petty crook that ran off.”

Hines faced him with a scowl. “I don't remember every two-bit low-down piece of garbage we swept up. It's late, and I'm hungry.”

“Whoa, I just asked a question.” Derrick affected a puzzled frown. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

He strode up to Derrick until their faces were inches apart. “Listen, kid, don't screw with me! You and your boss got suspicions, then say so.”

“Okay.” Derrick sat down on the edge of his desk. “Monette was definitely no Sunday school teacher. But as the old folks used to say, something ain't clean in the milk.” He tapped one section of the thick file with a forefinger.

“We had a chance to get them off the street, and we did.” Hines put both hands on his waist.

“Monette was a nuisance, not one of America's Most Wanted.”

“I'm not gonna stand here playing tag team detective. We got the goods on her, and she went down. Case closed.” Hines took his car keys out of his pocket.

“Not yet,” Derrick replied. “Monette is about to open it up again. I mean wide-open.”

“Then whatever happens happens. See ya.” Hines walked off. His heavy footsteps thumped down the hall.

“Yeah, we'll definitely be seeing each other. Sooner than you think, pal.” Derrick crossed his arms and stared at the closed door for a long time.

Mama Rose folded up the last blouse and placed it in the large suitcase. She glanced around the room. Talia watched her out of the corner of her eye. Instead of dancing for joy that she was leaving the rehabilitation center, Mama Rose seemed nostalgic.

“Where do you want this, Mama?” Talia held up a ceramic clown. “The boxes are packed tight. We talked about maybe leaving some stuff behind.”

“No!” Mama Rose scurried over to a box. “Here, give me that.” She almost snatched it from Talia's hand.

Talia watched as she lovingly wrapped it in newspaper until it was well cushioned. “You hate that kind of hokey knickknack. Sure will look strange beside your porcelain bird collection.”

“This was a gift. And it's not hokey.” Mama Rose frowned at her. “I didn't raise you to be snooty, young lady.”

“Well excuse me!” Talia pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “I think I know who made that for you.”

“Hush and keep packing.” Mama Rose turned away.

“Mama, if you don't want to leave, there are plenty of spacious apartments here.”

“No, indeed! I miss my house. I know you're eager to leave.” Mama Rose continued packing.

“My boss has been wonderful. Besides, I'm working on a project here.”

“Then there's Derrick.” Mama Rose sat down on her bed and gazed at Talia.

“Don't meddle,” Talia said in a light tone. “Like you always say, young folks do things differently these days.”

“Talia René Marchand, we need to talk.” Mama Rose patted the bedspread. “Come sit.”

“We've got too much to do. We can talk later.” Talia pretended she was engrossed in her task.

“I need to take a break. I'm not as young as you,” Mama Rose said. Her voice sounded quite strong despite her words.

Talia raised an eyebrow at her. “You look pretty fresh to me.”

“Don't argue, sit.”

Talia reluctantly put down a stack of paperback books. “Okay. Short break and a
short
discussion.”

“I know you have horrible memories of growing up in Rougon. But, baby, that's not enough to keep you from the man you love.”

“You don't understand, Mama Rose.” Talia looked out of the bedroom window.

“Then tell me so I can help.” Mama Rose took Talia's hand.

“Derrick wants a picket fence around a cottage, a dog, and kids. I don't even like dogs that much.”

“I know what you're saying, and it's not about a dog either,” Mama Rose said.

“Do you?” Talia rested her head on Mama Rose's shoulder.

“Yes. Let me tell you about yourself. You're afraid you can't be a good mother. Monette, your grandmother, and your aunts weren't exactly good role models.”

“There's some kind of flaw in the maternal instinct genes. I've never daydreamed about having a baby to love.” Talia sighed. “Most of the girls I met in foster care wanted it so bad.”

“They all have three kids or more by now,” Mama Rose added.

“Right!” Talia sat straight and looked at her. “What's wrong with me? I never once said, look how beautiful. You remember my best friend Shaunice?”

“Sure. You were like sisters.”

“She's got four kids now. Four! We saw each other over a year ago, and we just didn't have much to talk about.” Talia looked down at their entwined hands.

“Your lives are so different. Nothing wrong with that, baby.”

“My point is I didn't feel an ache looking at her kids. I'd probably feel tied down by a child and run the streets just like Monette. Except I'd have my career instead of drugs and partying.”

“You would be a wonderful mother. You get that from me.”

“You did a beautiful job of raising this wild child.” Talia smiled at her with affection. “I gave you fits, but you stood by me.”

“We were a team. I never tried to be your mother.”

“You're my second mama.” Talia paused and stroked her cheek.

“We couldn't be more bonded if I'd given birth to you.” Mama Rose kissed her on the cheek.

“But I'm still Monette's daughter. I've got those wild genes.” Talia wiped a stray tear away before it slid down her face. “Not to mention that Marchand guy. I wouldn't even call him a father. Promised to marry her, so she put his last name on my birth certificate.”

“You're not like Monette or your daddy. Look at your performance in school, and your career.”

“I achieved to escape,” Talia murmured.

“You're still doing both, baby,” Mama Rose said gently. “I think it's time to have a fantastic career
and
a fulfilling personal life.”

Talia kissed Mama Rose's forehead then stood. “Enough talk. We have work to do.”

“Fine. I have just one last thing to say.”

“Mama,” Talia warned.

“You'll never be complete without Derrick. I never saw two people more bonded, even as kids. There, I said it, and I'm not sorry.” Mama Rose marched from the room with her head high.

“Oh God.” Talia sank onto the bed again. Her body and soul knew Mama Rose was right.

 

Talia threw her car keys onto the coffee table and swore. She'd waited for three hours at the library, and the guy hadn't shown up. Her mysterious connection must have gotten cold feet. The phone rang. She snatched up the receiver.

“Yeah,” she barked into the phone. “I waited for you all morning and—”

“'Scuse me?” Jasmine said.

“Oh, it's you.” Talia kicked off her pumps and dropped into a wing-backed chair at a small desk in the living room.

“I've missed you terribly, too,” Jasmine wisecracked.

“Sorry. It's been one of those weeks. How are you?” Talia yawned. Sleep had eluded her for the past two nights.

“Okay. Hmm, not getting much sleep I see. You're better than okay with that fine private eye to keep you warm. How is Derrick?”

“I've been busy working, and so has he,” Talia said quickly.

After a pause, Jasmine made a clicking sound. “Oh-oh, the Love Train jumped the wrong tracks so soon?”

“Change of subject,” Talia clipped.

“We're friends, Talia. What's up?” Jasmine replied.

“The same argument, the same conflicting worldview.” Talia suppressed a sigh. “I really don't want to talk about it.”

“I'll let it go for now. We will talk,” Jasmine said in a resolute tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Later. What's the hottest news around town?” Talia forced a cheer into her voice that she didn't feel.

“The gun control issue is about to be revisited as the politicians like to say. Don't worry I'm on it. Your clients won't be neglected.”

Talia put the receiver down and turned on the speaker. “I'm pulling up my files now,” she said as she turned on her notebook.

“You downloaded the notes to me last week, remember?” Jasmine asked.

“Oh, right.” Talia blinked her dry scratchy eyes. “I've been a little distracted.”

“By the same subject we won't talk about I'll bet.” Jasmine made another rapid clicking noise with her tongue.

“You sound like a hyperactive cricket,” Talia retorted. “The mandatory-sentencing project is intense.”

“Yeah, right.” Jasmine's tone implied she wasn't convinced. “Anyway, you should be getting some material over your fax machine right now.”

Seconds later she heard the screech of the fax machine's modem. “What is it?” Talia said. She accessed her database and tapped at the keyboard.

“A coalition of powerful folks down your way has been making the rounds. Smart money, too. They had
heavy-hitting legal guns visiting the Justice Department. Didn't Jarrod tell you?”

“No.” Talia pulled up the notes section to add information from Jasmine.

“He was down there with you. Hey, wait a minute. I just figured it out.” Jasmine let out a low whistle. “Two men, double trouble.”

“About the lawyers,” Talia said sharply.

“Darn, you're not going to tell me,” Jasmine whined.

“If you don't get on with the business at hand—” Talia said through clenched teeth.

Jasmine let out a dramatic sigh. “Geez. They're making sure conservatives fight any changes to mandatory-sentencing laws at the federal level.”

“Interesting,” Talia muttered. She immediately thought of Winn Barron. “You know whom they represent?”

“A coalition of law-and-order advocates, victims' rights activists, and law enforcement officials. These lawyers are based in Louisiana, but the coalition has members from several states.” Jasmine read off a summary of the states.

“No problem. We knew the opponents would work hard. Give me what they've done so far,” Talia said.

Jasmine gave her a concise account of the contacts they'd made and the issues they raised. Talia typed bullet points into her database as Jasmine spoke.

“Here's what isn't generally known. The attorney general in Louisiana is making personal phone calls to key policy makers and congressmen.”

“He's really interested in this thing.” Talia stopped typing. “But why so top secret?”

“Apparently he wants it that way. Strange, huh? He's got political plans for a national run I hear. You'd think he'd want to use this issue.”

Talia stared at the computer screen without seeing the words on it. “I've got a funny feeling about this guy.”

“I've got a funny feeling about the whole thing, T. What the heck is going on down there?” Jasmine said.

“When I find out, I'll let you know,” Talia answered.

Jasmine gave her more information once Talia retrieved the pages from the fax machine. They spent thirty minutes going over other projects just to update Talia. Once she said good-bye to Jasmine, Talia signed on to the Internet. She wanted to find out more about the coalition. More importantly, she planned to do intense research on Winn Barron. Pete had an account with two database services that could provide detailed information on any subject and anybody. She muttered a curse word when the phone rang only minutes later and kicked her off the Internet.

“Yeah,” Talia said impatiently.

“Talia, Monette's been hurt bad,” Karl said. “They took her to the hospital in Baton Rouge. The prison infirmary can't handle it.”

“What happened?” Talia's stomach churned as she stood.

“The social worker that called said she'd been in a fight with some other inmate.” Karl was breathless. “I'm leavin' work now.”

“I'll meet you there.” Talia crossed the room and put on her shoes as she spoke.

“I don't think you oughta. I'll call you once I get there.”

“I'm going, Karl.”

“Look, Monette has always said she'd just as soon everybody thinks Miz Rose is your mama. You got a good life,” Karl spoke low into the phone.

“We don't have time to discuss this now. Which hospital?”

“Earl K. Long Memorial, the charity hospital on Airline Highway. See you in a little bit.”

Mama Rose came out of her bedroom. “I didn't mean to nap the day away.” Her smile faded when she looked at Talia. “What's wrong?”

“That was Karl. Monette's been hurt in a fight at the prison. I'm going to the hospital.” Talia picked up her purse and car keys.

“Lord, have mercy! Is she going to be alright?”

“I don't know yet.” Talia stopped and took a deep breath.

“I'm coming with you. Just give me ten minutes to get dressed.” Mama Rose started out of the room.

“No way,” Talia said loudly. “The home health nurse will be here at six o'clock. There's food in the refrigerator. All you have to do is heat it in the microwave. Don't forget to take your pills at four o'clock.”

“I'm fine. You get going, and don't worry about me.”

Talia gave her a hug, mostly for her own comfort. “Okay.”

Mama Rose held on to Talia tightly for a few moments then let go. “I'm going to be praying for her.”

“Where are my keys?” Talia turned around in a circle.

“They're in your hand, sweetie. Drive carefully because you're upset right now. And call me soon as you can.”

Talia waved once, then got in her rental car. She made the drive to Baton Rouge in twenty minutes, half the time it usually took. The parking lot of the charity hospital was crowded. After a frustrating five minutes, she found an empty space. Large signs pointed the way to the emergency room. Karl had already arrived and was pacing near the wide glass doors. His bleak expression told her the news would be bad.

“How is she?” Talia blurted out before she was close to him.

“She's in surgery. They say she might be bleeding inside, especially if the knife cut her liver or spleen.”

“Tell me what happened.” Talia tried to calm her hammering heart.

“Let's go in here.” Karl led her to a small waiting room for families. “I don't know any details. Just somebody jumped her while she was in the prison laundry.”

“That's outrageous! We should have more information. I'm going to call the warden's office right now.” Talia took out her cell phone.

“Talia, slow down.” Karl placed a hand on her arm. “Let's deal with Monette and whether she pulls through.”

“What do you mean? Of course she's going to pull through. She's tough.” Talia heard her own voice rising in hysteria yet couldn't stop. “Nothing gets Monette down. She's got a plan for anything!”

Talia paced back and forth in the tiny room. Karl watched her for a few minutes. Suddenly he walked over to her and put his arms around Talia. For the first time in their lives they held each other like family. Both of them started to cry.

“So many years of pain and bein' separated,” Karl whispered. “I just can't stand the thought of her dyin' in prison without us bein' a real family.”