Under Abnormal Conditions (15 page)

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Authors: Erick Burgess

Tags: #thriller, #mystery, #african american, #private detective, #psychological, #suspence, #detective fiction, #mystery series, #cozy crime stories, #cozy mystery fiction, #private eye fiction, #erick d burgess, #louisiana author

“He just grumbled and asked for the number
and-”

“You have the guy’s phone number?”

“Yeah, he said my dad would know what it was
about.”

“Did you tell that to the police?” I asked as
my heart almost pounded through my chest.

“No. I didn’t even think about it until just
now. They made me so nervous. Do you think I should call them?”

“I don’t know if it means anything, but let
me check it out first. If there is anything to it, I’ll tell the
police about it. Do you still have the number?”

“Yeah, I wrote it on the message pad in the
kitchen. Hold on for a minute.”

Guilt poured over me like an icy bucket of
water. It chilled my body thoroughly. If her dad did have something
to do with the murder, then Sara would be losing both of her
parents. I didn’t want to deal with the other option. If he weren’t
guilty then again, all attention would be focused on me.

“Hey the number is 555-8220.”

“Okay. If I do find anything out, you will be
the first to know. Do you need anything?” I asked.

“No, I just need some time alone before the
funeral.”

“I thought maybe I could see you afterwards.
Just to talk.”

“No. I would like to, but I have to be with
my dad. Maybe we can get together tomorrow. I really do hope to see
you at the service today.”

“I’ll be there. Just remember I’m here for
you, and if there is anything I can do . . . just let me know.
Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Michael.”

I hung up the receiver and quickly jotted
down the number and turned around in a hurry. When I did, I
clumsily ran into a young coed. I apologized and knelt down to help
her pick up her books.

“Hey, don’t you work at that club, that jazz
club?” she asked.

I couldn’t believe it. It was Carmen, the
woman I had met at the club earlier in the week. “Yeah, Carmen
right?” I said as we stood up.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you remembered with
everything that happened. How about you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, maybe I would. What are you doing
later?” she asked.

“I’m going to be a little tied up until early
this evening and then I have to catch up with a little schoolwork.
That’s about it.”

“Great. I am really having a problem
finishing a paper, and I’m afraid to go to my professor for help.
Maybe we can get together over coffee.”

“Well, I don’t know. This really isn’t a good
time for me.”

She tilted her head to the side and said,
“Please? I could really use the help.”

When she looked at me with those eyes the
only thing I could say was, “Sure”. After all, what did I have to
lose? Maybe spending some time doing something besides thinking
about Michelle or Sherry was just what I needed to clear my
head.

I took out my wallet and took out the
business card I got from the doctor Monday night. I wrote my name
and phone number on the back of it and handed it to her.

Her long dark hair fell forward as she looked
at the card. “Okay, Michael Drake. Where would you like to meet?”
she asked as she continued to study the card. “Do you live very far
from campus?”

“Well, about thirty minutes or so.”
Bewildered, I asked, “You want to meet me at the house?”

“No, silly. What kind of a girl do you think
I am?” she said as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. Before I
could say something stupid she said, “Well, I am going to my
parent’s house in Baton Rouge. There’s a little bar downtown called
Misty’s Mellow Café. It’s on the corner of North and 3rd Street.
Meet me there at ten o’clock.”

I wrote down the name of that fine
establishment, as she filed away the card, and we said our
goodbyes. As she walked away, I hoped she wouldn’t turn around and
see me watching her leave.

She did. She just smiled and kept
walking.

I looked at the number I had gotten from
Sara, and I wondered what other surprises the day held for me.

 

 

Chapter 21

 

 

I placed the number in my pocket and walked
around until I found a seat overlooking the campus. The only other
person around was a guy stretched out on the floor next to the
stairs.

Very soon, the quiet I had been searching for
became too much. The silent library left me alone with my thoughts.
That was something I wasn’t ready to deal with.

The reference section was on the second
floor. That’s where I would start. The scene was the same as the
first floor. Students were lined up the length of the building
waiting to be helped.

My patience was far too short to even attempt
to stand in line, so I thought I would just have to try it
later.

Before I got back on the elevator, I noticed
a heavyset black woman working alone behind the counter.

I don’t know what drew me to her. I felt like
I knew her; maybe she would feel the same way.

I walked through the crowd of people and
peeked over the half wall that separated them from the precious
information they desired and said, “And how are you doing
today?”

She looked up with a beautifully cherubic
face and answered, “Hey, baby. How are you doing?”

She must have been about sixty years old. Her
voice was powerful, but she had a gentle tone. I was sure she was
an excellent grandmother to someone. In south Louisiana, all
grandmothers were entitled to call everyone under the age of
thirty, baby.

“I’m fine. I know that you are very busy back
there, but if you could just tell me how to find some information I
would be grateful.”

She looked across the counter at the crowd
and whispered, “What kind of information?”

“I’ve got a phone number, but I don’t
remember whose number it is. Can you help me?”

She put on her glasses, and I handed her the
scrap of paper.

“Is this a local number, baby?”

“Yes, ma’am. I believe that it is.”

“Just hold on for a minute, and I’ll see what
I can find out for you.”

I walked over to the window. The trouble in
my life wouldn’t allow me to concentrate on my work and it was only
serving to drive myself crazy.

Any other time I probably wouldn’t have
notice the dark colored sedan slowly driving past the front of the
library.

It slowly passed into the empty lot next to
the building. It really caught my attention when no one exited the
car after it stopped. After a minute or two the driver’s side door
opened.

I quickly recognized the figure that exited
the vehicle. It was Detective Stone and he was headed for the
library.

Without looking, I stepped backwards and
right into the librarian. I don’t think she budged, but I did knock
something from her hand.

“I’ve been running into pretty women all day
long,” I said as I reached down for the paper. I picked it up and
attempted to hand it to her.

“That’s yours anyway,” she said, blushing as
well as someone with her skin color could.

“How did you find it?”

“I just found it, so don’t you worry about
it.”

I gave her a peck on the cheek for thanks and
headed for the stairs. With my luck, I figured the detective would
be waiting on the other side of the door for me.

The stairwell was empty. When I reached the
bottom floor, I slowly opened the door leading back into the main
library.

There was a back exit that was only about
five feet away from where I was. It wasn’t the five feet I was
worried about, but the officer that was either riding the elevator
upstairs or waiting downstairs for me.

I took a deep breath and walked to the door.
It was like I was walking in slow motion through a tunnel. I could
see the door, but I couldn’t get to it fast enough. My only focus
was getting to that door.

I hit the panic bar, and the cool air blowing
against my face told me I had made it. I didn’t know or care why
Stone was at the university. I just didn’t want to bump into him. I
was tired of running and it was time for me to go on the
offensive.

The church parking lot was full. So full I
had to park in the gas company parking lot across the street. I
waited for the last of the family to go into the church before I
got out of my car.

Before she died, Sherry was a member of the
largest church in town, Greater Faith Methodist Church. I had been
Michelle’s guest a few times, but that didn’t help the awkwardness
I felt as I walked through the doors.

A small gray-haired women dressed in white
handed me a program. I quietly thanked her and entered the
sanctuary. The inside of the church was beautiful. The crowd was so
large that the rectangular main sanctuary couldn’t hold all of the
people. A smaller, square shaped annex room was open to the right
of the main room to fit the three hundred mourners.

The ceiling was at least thirty feet high.
The sun radiated through brilliantly colored stained glass windows
adorned with Jesus kneeling next to a lamb. The radiant
surroundings didn’t help with the heavy mood.

On the front wall Christ hung on a large
cross. Directly under it was the coffin. A solemn train of mourners
marched down the center aisle to view the body. Standing next to
the body was the funeral director. He gestured to me to walk up and
view her body. After a quick survey of the room, I found the seat
where the employees were. Luckily, Joey was sitting on the end next
to the aisle. I shook off his invitation and squeezed in next to
her.

“I didn’t think you were going to show,” she
whispered.

“I really didn’t have a choice,” I
returned.

“Sara?” she asked.

“Her and guilt.” She elbowed my in the side
and shushed me. “No. It’s not like that. I didn’t mean, . . . never
mind.”

When the last of the mourners were seated,
the funeral director closed and locked the casket. As he finished,
the choir began to sing, and everyone stood. Paranoia gripped me as
I stood. I felt like everyone was staring at me.

I could see Sara sitting on the front row
next to her dad. After the well-wishers viewed the body they walked
and greeted them. It was touching to watch them console each other.
It was bad enough to have lost my grandparents. I couldn’t imagine
losing my mother. I selfishly wondered who would comfort me when my
mother died.

The choir finished their song, and we sat. As
I looked across the room, I couldn’t imagine she had that many
friends. I knew I shouldn’t have judged her totally according to
the way she treated me, but how could I not?

As the music died down, the pastor of the
church stood and walked to the pulpit. In a dry monotone voice he
said, “Do not weep for our sister. For this God is our God forever
and ever, and He will be our guide even unto death,” he seemed to
pause for effect. “Death only of the body. They will continue to
live in our hearts and minds. Sherry Allen was a special woman. Her
life had a special meaning for each and every person in this
room.”

The only dry eyes in the house belonged to
me. That made me feel even worse. As he continued, his comforting
words caused Sara to burst out in hysterical tears and walk from
the main room to the foyer. She walked right past me.

Just as I was about to rise, Joey grabbed my
right arm, squeezed and whispered, “Do you think that’s a good
idea?”

Before I could say anything, one of Sherry’s
friends scooted past me and went out after her. She then released
the grip on my arm.

She was right. I couldn’t force my guilt upon
her and expect forgiveness. Just like patience, it would come with
time.

Just before the pastor finished the short
eulogy, Sara walked back into the church. She sat down and her
father placed his arm around her. After a short prayer the
pallbearers stood to remove the casket.

The men, wearing black suits and snow-white
gloves, lifted the pearl handles and led the death procession
through the center of the church. First the family left and then
the friends filed out of the church.

I leaned over to Joey and asked, “Are you
going to the graveyard?”

“You’re not?” she asked.

“No. It was probably a mistake to even come
here,” I whispered back. “I’m going to go ahead and go home. There
are a few things I need to take care of today. I’ll call you later
on.”

I kept my head down and walked through the
crowd. When I was about to cross the street to go back to my car,
out of the corner of my eye I saw a large navy blue sedan parked
across the street in front of the church.

Even though I couldn’t see through the tinted
window, I knew that it was Detectives Stone and Williams. I walked
across the street without acknowledging them. I made it to my car
without incident. As I drove by, they pulled out right behind
me.

I knew I didn’t have a reason to be nervous,
but common sense and logic didn’t matter. I passed through two
stoplights and one stop sign before I looked in the rearview
mirror. The sedan was behind. They didn’t pull away until I turned
into my driveway. Even as they drove away, I knew it wouldn’t be
the end.

 

 

Chapter 22

 

 

With the busy morning, I had almost forgotten
about my souvenir from the previous night. I had my thoughts about
that, so I didn’t stay home.

I passed by the front of the club and the
usual people in the neighborhood were out and about. Nothing seemed
out of the ordinary. It was hard to believe it had been a murder
scene only a few days ago. I drove one street over to a small
shotgun house on the corner. Mona lived there. I hoped she wasn’t
alone.

She answered the door wearing what seemed
only to be a man’s long sleeved shirt. She was obviously not happy
to see me.

“Michael? What do you need?”

“I think you know. Where is Dexter?” I
asked.

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