Under Abnormal Conditions (9 page)

“Am I under arrest?” I asked fearfully.

“No, not at all,” replied Williams.

“So I can leave?”

The detectives glanced at each other again
and Stone answered, “Can you give us a minute?” I didn’t object and
they left the room. As much as I wanted, I couldn’t take my eyes
from the mirror. I wondered who was back there, and why was I a
suspect?

The detectives quickly returned. The look of
disappointment that painted their faces told me all I needed to
know.

“You’re free to go.” Stone said dryly.

They couldn’t have believed they had a
sufficient amount of evidence to hold me. All they had was the
assumption she didn’t like me. If there was a law against that, who
wouldn’t be locked up?

Chapter 12

The sight of the station in my rear view
mirror eased my mind a bit, but I couldn’t help feeling I was the
only one on their list of suspects. Whatever they thought, I was
glad I didn’t have to stay there any longer than I did.

It probably wasn’t the best thing to do, but
I still needed to go visit Sara. I hated that it took her mother
dying for me to see her again. I didn’t even know if she wanted to
see me, but I had to try, just for my own peace of mind.

After Michelle’s disappearance, Sara was the
only one in her family that didn’t think I had something to do with
it.

She slowly opened the door. I could see the
trail of tears as she brushed her hair from her blue eyes. She was
a year and a half younger and save for the dark eye makeup and
lipstick, she could have passed for Michelle’s twin.

“Sara. I just came by to tell you how sorry I
am about your mother. I didn’t know whether or not to come by, but
I -”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “You know I
have never blamed you for anything that happened. I appreciate you
coming by. Would you like to come in?”

“I really don’t want to impose.”

“Don’t be silly. I could use the company. Dad
has been making funeral arrangements since early this morning.”

She stepped aside, and I entered her modest
home. As I walked by, she smelled wonderful. I was still amazed at
how much she looked like her sister.

With those tears in her eyes, she looked the
exact same way she had the last time I saw her. I wanted to grab
her and hold her and tell her everything would be all right. I know
she used to look at me as a big brother. I searched my mind for a
way I could ease her pain.

She closed the door and walked over to the
vacuum cleaner that sat in the middle of the floor. After
unplugging it from the wall she began to wrap up the cord.

“Let me get that for you.” I said as I walked
over and took it from her hands and put it in the hall closet.

“I’ve been trying to get a little cleaning
done before the family starts showing up. Can I get you something?”
she asked.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks. I should be asking you
if there is anything I can do for you.”

She gestured for me to take a seat. I had
always heard the greatest tragedy is for a parent to outlive a
child. I never truly understood that saying until my daughter was
born, but anyone looking at Sara at that moment would have argued
differently. She paced the floor frantically ringing her hands.

“I just don’t know what to do. I can’t help
feeling like I could have done something,” she said.

Her tears were flowing again. I wanted to get
up and console her, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her. “There was
nothing you could have done. You can’t blame yourself for what
happened,” I answered.

“Michael, you don’t understand. The police
aren’t sure she was killed because of the money.”

“What?” I exclaimed, trying to sound
surprised. With the questions the police were asking me downtown I
should have already known that.

“She was seeing some strange new guy, but she
didn’t tell me anything about him.”

“Sherry? I never would have imagined. Do the
police think he killed her?” I asked as I moved to the edge of my
seat.

“They don’t know about him, I guess. I didn’t
want to say anything, because my father doesn’t know about him. I
don’t even know who he is. She just . . .” she began and then
totally fell apart. I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I got up
and walked over to her. If I had thought too long or hard about it,
I probably wouldn’t have done it. I grabbed her and held her in my
arms. I think I needed it as much as she did, just for different
reasons.

Her beautiful eyes were clouded over with
tears. I wiped them away. “I’m so sorry.” I said just as her father
walked in.

“Like mother, like daughter I see. You could
at least wait until she’s in the ground. Oh, and with him. It
figures. Haven’t you taken enough away from my family?” he snapped
sarcastically and slammed the door.

James Allen had a short stocky build. He was
slightly balding with glasses and a thin gray beard. He stomped
through the living room to the kitchen. “Isn’t their anything to
eat in this house? I work all day and this is what I come home to.
Look at all that dust on the floor. This is not a bar room. If your
mother was . . .”

The kitchen door muffled the string of
profanity that surely followed. I used the uncomfortable moment to
make my escape.

“I really need to get out of here. I’ll call
you later. If you need anything before you hear from me, just
call.”

She nodded silently, and I kissed her on the
cheek. Luckily, I made it to the door before Mr. Allen made it out
of the kitchen. I took one last look at Sara. She was sitting on
the couch with her face buried in her hands. I hated to leave her,
but her father didn’t need me around to confuse things.

I had never known him to have such a temper.
I had always had a decent relationship with him, but if what Sara
said was true, then I could understand. If the police suspected
Sherry of having an affair, they had to ask James. Having to hear
that your wife was sleeping around from the police wouldn’t have
been easy for anyone to take. He may have even been a suspect. Just
as I was about to get in my car, I heard a voice call out.

“Michael! Hold up!”

I turned around and it was James. He was
slowly walking towards me. I couldn’t imagine what he could have
wanted. I thought it would be enough that I was leaving. I hoped he
wasn’t looking for someone else to take his frustrations out on. I
was sure he had done that enough with Sara. She stood in the
doorway with her arms crossed as her father walked towards me.

When he reached my car, he stopped, turned
and looked at Sara. She gave him a stern stare, and he turned back
around and said, “Michael. I don’t think you should come around
here anymore,” he said as his bottom lip quivered. “I don’t know
what you did or didn’t do as far as Sherry or Michelle, but I
haven’t been close to Sara in years, and it just got worse.” His
eyes glazed over, and I would have sworn he didn’t even see me
there.

I touched his arm to remind him of my
presence and said, “I understand.”

He drew his arm back and yelled, “Don’t come
back, ever.”

I couldn’t blame him for being upset. When
Ester cheated on me, I wanted to do more than slam a few doors.
“It’s no problem. I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through and
if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Like I said before, you have already done
enough,” he said and walked away in disgust. He pushed his way by
Sara and hurried into the house. Sara mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’
and followed him inside.

It was hard to concentrate on anything as I
drove away. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I was happy to be
alive. As bad as my life was, it was still life.

Precious life, and for the second time in my
short existence, I had cheated death. It could have been me being
carted out on that stretcher headed to the morgue, but it
wasn’t.

Then on second thought . . .

Chapter 13

Webster’s dictionary defined murder as
homicide with premeditated and malicious intent. That was the first
time it occurred to me, maybe it wasn’t an accident that Sherry was
the one who was killed.

I wondered to myself who else would be
interested in that theory. The police? Kevin Turner? More than
likely, no one would care.

Even though the club looked exactly the same
as when I had driven to work the day before, the veil of murder was
clear. It was like the dark cloud that covered the sky but it only
covered that building.

A uniformed officer stopped me as I turned
in.

“I’m sorry sir, this area is a crime
scene.”

“I’m Michael Drake. I’m supposed to be
meeting Kevin Turner here.”

I could see him squinting at me from behind
his mirrored sunglasses. He tilted his head to the right and spoke
into his shoulder radio. “I’ve got Drake here for Turner.”

I couldn’t understand the garbled reply, but
he waved me through. The lot was full as usual, but they were all
police cars. Some were marked and some were not, but they were
definitely all police cars.

I drove to the back of the building. Even
back there, teams of officers were searching for clues. One of them
broke from the crowd to direct me. He waved for me to come towards
him.

“I’m here to see Kevin Turner,” I said before
he could ask. He pointed me in the direction of the dumpster at the
edge of the back parking lot facing the church. The smell of
garbage and stale urine assaulted me like a right cross from a
heavyweight boxer. I covered my nose and chose my steps carefully
as not to step on any evidence as I made my way to the backdoor of
the club.

I tried the knob, but it was locked. I rapped
on the door twice, and it quickly opened. Kevin was there to greet
me. He wore a smile that was as artificial as his store-bought hair
color.

Kevin only stood a shade over five feet tall.
I seemed to tower over the diminutive former detective as I entered
the building. He covered for his shortness with a gruff voice and
ten feet of attitude. The one thing he did have were those
eyes.

He had cold cerulean eyes that could freeze
your heart with the slightest glance. His unnaturally dark hair was
cut into a flat top.

“Drake,” he said in his rough voice and took
my hand.

“How are you Kevin?” I said returning his
handshake.

“Fine, fine my man. Follow me to the
office.”

As we walked, the usual hustle and bustle was
replaced with stoic officers in white coats. I wanted to get in and
out of there as fast as I could. The inside of the building was
eerily silent.

“I am going to need to ask you a few question
about what happened last night,” he said as we walked to his office
upstairs.

Downstairs I saw teams of detectives swarming
around the cash office. As we passed, I saw the tape outline of
Sherry’s body on the floor. The sight froze my steps.

Being the small woman she was, I couldn’t
imagine she put up much of a fight. From the position of the tape,
I couldn’t tell. That was not a picture I wanted in my mind.

Kevin regained my attention by touching my
forearm and saying, “You there, buddy?”

“Yes,” I answered, still staring into the
room. “I just can’t believe what happened to Sherry.”

“That’s terrible,” he said in a tone that
seemed far too maudlin. I could have been wrong, but I didn’t think
he had that good of a relationship with her.

He didn’t really like anyone.

We passed the door leading to Phil’s office
and Kevin walked over, unlocked his door, and waited for me to
enter.

I walked inside the small four by six room.
Inside there was a desk that took up so much space. I had to
practically stand on top of it for him to close the door. He pulled
a chair out from the desk and asked me to sit. He stood
uncomfortably close as he crossed his arms and began firing
questions at me.

“The police didn’t have a problem with us
being here?” I asked.

“Well, I still have some friends on the
force. It wasn’t a problem.”

“I had a little trouble in here last night, I
could have used you.”

“Sorry to hear that. I had something to take
care of last night. With all things considered, I wish I had been
here as well. Now let me ask you a few questions. How long have you
worked for the club?”

“A couple of years.”

“OK. What did you do before you came to work
for Phil?”

“I worked at a grocery store.”

“Hmmm . . .” he started.

“I played football before, and then I got
married. I worked at the store in the off season for extra
money.”

He scrunched up his eyes and began pointing
at me. “That’s right. I remember that. I remember watching you play
against North Texas a few years ago. I don’t know why I didn’t
think about that before.”

“Well look, I talked to the police last
night, and I’ve talked to them again this morning. What else do you
need to know?” I asked impatiently.

“Well Drake, why didn’t you call me in a
situation like the one you had last night.” His tone was the same,
but his questions unsettled me. It was obvious to him, and he
quickly followed with, “I can understand why you called the
police.” No matter what his mouth said, his eyes were saying, “You
are going to tell me exactly what I want to know.”

“So you haven’t talked to the police then?” I
asked.

“Just in passing. After we get finished, I’ll
follow up with them to fill in the holes. Right now, you are the
only one that can help me.”

“I’ll do what I can, but like I told the
police, I went to get my coat out of the office. When I turned
around there was a lot of smoke. Then everything went black.”

“Michael?” he asked in a manner that became
too casual too quickly. “What do you think happened last
night?”