all, I have a complicated relationship with the womanâeven though she doesnât know me from Adam. Since she escaped from her troubled sister, Maybelline Carver has looked into my face several times and never once recognized me. I kept waiting, since I look a lot like my father, but it never happened.
Surely Python didnât shoot his own aunt. Iâd heard for years from Isaac how close the two were. No. That puzzle piece doesnât fit.
âSo . . . whatâs the theory? She walk in on something or was she the intended victim?â
âAt this point, itâs anyoneâs guess. The shooting was called in by several people in the neighborhood, but so farââ
âNobody saw a damn thing,â we chorus in sync.
âOf course,â I add.
âPastor Hayes is en route. I spoke to him over the phone and he said that he saw Maybelline before heading out to the hospital. Weâll get a full statement when he gets here.â
âAll right.â I glance over at Fowler. âAre you going in to talk to Ms. Blackmon?â
âYep. Itâs how I make the big bucks.â He winks and heads into the interrogation room. âWatch and learn.â
âWill do, Obi-Wan Kenobi.â
Fowler smirks as he opens the door.
I lean back against the wall and watch my former partner go to work.
âSorry to have kept you waiting, Ms. Blackmon,â Fowler says, handing the shaken woman a can of Diet Coke. âHow are you doing?â
âFine, I guess,â Cleo says, shifting in her chair. âDo you know how much longer this is going to be?â
âNot much longer,â Fowler reassures her. âI want to confirm that your statement is that when you arrived at the church you didnât see anyone else there and that you werenât witness to the actual shooting. Is that correct?â
Thereâs a beat of hesitation. âThatâs correct.â
Sheâs fucking lying. I step closer to the two-way mirror and study her expression.
âYou also said that you knew our victim,â Fowler says. âDo you know if thereâs anyone who may have wanted to cause her harm?â
Another beat. âNo. Everyone loved herâexcept maybe you guys. Itâs well-known that the po-po has been harassing her for decades.â
âMaybelline Carver has quite a police record, but surely youâre not insinuating that the Memphis Police Department had anything to do with her death?â
Cleo flashes a flat smile. âIâm answering your questions.â
The observation door wrenches open. âOh. Fowler is still interviewing?â
âYeah. Whatâs up?â I turn away from the mirror.
âPastor Hayes is here.â
âAh. Okay. Iâll talk to him.â I march out of the room behind my colleague. It isnât too hard to spot the anxious pastor out in the hall.
âPastor Hayes?â I offer him my hand. âIâmââ
âCaptain Hawkins. Yes. I know. Iâve seen you plenty of times on TV. I, uh, came here as soon as I could. I canât believe that this has happened. Peaches, er, I mean, Maybellineâhad recently joined the congregation.â
Peaches. âWas she a personal friend of yours?â
âShe was an old friend. Sheâs lived in the neighborhood for at least fifty-odd years. Plus . . . I wasnât always a pastor,â he says sheepishly.
I reach for my notepad again. âWhat time was it when you last saw her?â
âAbout two hours ago.â
âAnd how was she?â
He hesitates. âTo be honest with you she seemed . . . troubled .â
He has my full attention. âTroubled? What do you mean?â
âI donât know if you know, but Peaches had been through a horrific experience recently. Sheâd been kidnapped by her baby sister, Alice.â
âYes. I do know all about that.â
âI had gotten the impression that
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley