Criminal

  “You hear about the last guy they executed? His hair caught on fire. The switch was too hot. They couldn’t turn it off. He burned alive. Flames went as high as the ceiling. He screamed for two whole minutes before they found the junction box and shut it down.”

  Juice’s throat worked. His leg was shaking so hard that his knee bumped the table.

  “Give me a name, Juice. Tell me who killed Jane.”

  His fist clenched and unclenched. The table trembled.

  “Give me a name.”

  He pounded his fist against the table. “I ain’t gotta name!”

  Amanda clicked her pen. She closed her notebook. She hadn’t flinched. She kept perfectly calm, waiting.

  “Got damn.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Got damn them bitches. Gettin’ me on the hook for this shit.”

  “Who would want to kill Jane?”

  “Ever’body,” he said. “She mouth off all the time. Make enemies on the street.”

  “Anyone who would murder her?”

  “Not without gettin’ they throat slit. Bitch kept a knife in her purse. All them do. Girl knew how to use it. Cain’t turn your back on her fo’ a minute. Bitch mean as a snake.”

  “That’s pretty rich coming from her pimp.”

  He didn’t respond. His shoulders rounded. He gripped his hands in his lap. “What’d that other bitch say? ’Bout Kitty knowin’ the mayor? You think he can give a brother a hand? Get me outta this mess?”

  “I told you, if you tell me the truth, maybe I can help you.”

  He stared at her, eyes going back and forth as if he was reading a book.

  “Shee-it,” he mumbled. “You think they gone lissen to you?” He pushed himself up from the table. Amanda’s body tensed, but she stayed seated as he loomed over her. “Look ’round you, bitch.” He held out his hands. “They let a black man run this world ’fore they let a slit do.”

  * * *

  Amanda stood at Evelyn’s front door with a bottle of wine in her hand. It wasn’t the cheap stuff, but she was uncertain whether or not price had anything to do with taste. As with many things, she was out of her element. Especially when Kenny Mitchell opened the door.

  A smile spread across his mouth. His teeth were perfect. His face was perfect. There wasn’t anything about him she would change. Not that Amanda would be given the chance.

  He said, “Amanda. Great to see you again.” He leaned toward her, and without thinking, Amanda pulled back.

  “Oh,” she said, then leaned back in, looking more like a pecking duck than a grown woman. The moment could’ve been made more awkward, but Kenny laughed as he put his hand to her face and kissed her cheek. She could feel the rough texture of his skin, the prickly hairs of his mustache. His other hand rested lightly on her arm. A rush of heat went straight through her.

  “Come in.” He held open the door. Amanda walked into the house, feeling instantly enveloped by the cool air. “It’s nice, right?” Kenny took the bottle of wine from her. Every move he made had a certain kind of grace, like an athlete on the field. “Ev’s in back putting down the kid. I’m afraid that odor you smell is from me and Bill trying to cook supper. May I bring you a glass of wine?” He looked at the bottle and gave a low whistle. “Classy stuff. Maybe I’ll keep it for myself.”

  “That’s fine,” Amanda said, not sure which question she was answering. She looked down at the floor, surprised to see that her feet were still there, that she wasn’t melting into a bubbling pool of adolescent giddiness. “Whatever you like.”

  Kenny seemed not to notice, or maybe he was used to women acting so foolishly around him. He pointed down the hallway. “First door on the right.”

  Amanda felt his eyes on her as she walked down the hallway. Oddly, she thought about Juice, the things he’d said about her bottom. Amanda bit her lip. Why, of all the things the pimp had said, had that particular one stuck in her head? Surely, Kenny wasn’t like that. He wasn’t craven or crude. Neither was Amanda, which didn’t explain the obscene images that were flashing in her mind as she gently knocked on the bedroom door.

  Evelyn whispered, “Come in.”

  Amanda pushed open the door. Evelyn was sitting in a rocking chair. Zeke was in her arms. His head was flopped back. His arm hung down to the side. He was towheaded with pink cheeks and a button nose. It wasn’t surprising that Evelyn had such a beautiful baby. Or that his nursery was so playfully decorated. Fluffy white sheep were painted on the light blue walls. His crib was a glossy white. The yellow in the sheets matched the carpet, which in turn matched the glowing nightlight that provided the only illumination in the room.

  “You look nice,” Evelyn whispered.

  “Thank you.” Amanda self-consciously patted her hair. She’d washed it four times in an attempt to remove the odors from the jail, then dabbed some Charlie on her wrists and neck for other reasons. “Do you want me to help in the kitchen?”

  “No, it’s Bill’s night.” Evelyn groaned as she leveraged herself out of the chair. She cradled Zeke as she carried him to the crib. He flopped onto the mattress like a rag doll. Evelyn pulled up the sheet and tucked it around his narrow shoulders. Her fingers brushed back his hair. She leaned down and kissed his cheek before indicating they should leave.

  Instead of heading toward the kitchen, Evelyn took Amanda into the next room. Her dress was a short blue crinoline that rustled as she walked. She turned on the overhead light, revealing an office. Two desks were on opposite walls. Both were very tidy. Amanda guessed the black metal desk belonged to Bill Mitchell. She doubted he was using the elegantly curved white rococo desk with pink glass knobs. Evelyn’s spiral notebook was neatly lined up to the edge. A grocery list was beside it. Most remarkably, their earlier project was displayed on the wall. Evelyn had used thumbtacks to pin up the various pieces of construction paper.

  “I thought it would be easier this way.” Evelyn rolled Bill’s chair over for Amanda. She sat down at her desk and opened the top drawer. “I found these at the Five.”

  Amanda took the licenses. Lucy Anne Bennett. Kathryn Elizabeth Treadwell. Mary Louise Eitel. Donna Mary Halston. Mary Abigail Ellis.

  She studied the photos carefully and set aside two of the Marys, leaving Donna Mary Halston. “This one looks like Kitty and Lucy.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “He has a type.” Amanda had never considered such a thing, but of course it made sense. Men always had certain types they were attracted to. Why would murder be any different?

  Evelyn said, “They all look so normal. You’d never guess what they were doing.”

  Amanda stared at the girls’ photographs. They did look normal. There was nothing to suggest that they were prostitutes, nothing to indicate they had sunk to the lowest levels of depravity in order to feed an addiction.

  Most striking was their similarity. Long blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall and slim. Lush lips. Expressive eyes. They were not just pretty, but beautiful. “They all list the same address,” Amanda noted. “Techwood Homes. I can call back Pam Canale and see if she can trace the apartment to a roll number. I have a feeling it belongs to Kitty, but it wouldn’t kill us to be certain.” An idea occurred to her. “We could take these license photos to Techwood tomorrow. Like you said, it’s ninety percent black there. Three white girls would stick out.”

  “That’s good. You hold on to them.” Evelyn grabbed her notebook off the desk, but didn’t open it. “I checked all the missing persons files at the rest of the precinct. There was nothing for Lucy or Jane, but I found one for Mary Halston. She has a sister who lives in Virginia who’s been looking for her for almost a year.”

  “We could call her.” Amanda tucked the licenses into her purse. “I’m sure she’d talk to us.”

  “We’ll have to do it from here. If we call long-distance from the station, they’ll have our hides.”

  Their hides were already in enough jeopardy. “Did anything else stick out?”

  “I checked the DNF.?
?? She looked down at the notebook. “None of them seemed to match our case. But all those missing girls, Amanda. At least twenty of them, and no one thought to do anything but shove them in a file at the back of the cabinet.” She slowly shook her head. Amanda felt ashamed for having told her about it in the first place.

  Evelyn continued, “They’re dead, or they’ve been abducted, or hurt, and no one cares. Or at least no one knows to care. They must have families who are looking for them. But there are hardly any missing persons reports on black women. I guess their families know it doesn’t matter. At least not …” Her voice trailed off as she opened her notebook. “I wrote down their names. I don’t know why. I just thought that somebody should. Somebody has to acknowledge that they’re gone.”

  Amanda looked at the long list of women’s names. All dead. All tossed into files that no one ever looked at.

  Evelyn let out a long sigh. She put the notebook back on her desk. “How was the jail?”

  “Disgusting.” Amanda dug around in her purse, though she hardly needed to refer to her notes. “Juice confessed to killing Lucy Bennett, but only to avoid the death penalty.”

  “Did no one explain to him that we’re no longer allowed to execute people?”

  “They said they’d bring it back for him.”

  Evelyn nodded. “I suppose that’s a smart move on Juice’s part, then.”

  “If you want to spend the rest of your life in prison.” Amanda opened her notebook. “He confirmed Kitty is Andrew Treadwell’s daughter.”

  “Well.” She smiled smugly. “Our black sheep theory was correct.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath for a commendation,” Amanda advised. “Here’s the best part: Juice said that Hank Bennett came to see him a week or so before Lucy disappeared.”

  Evelyn grunted. “God, that man would rather climb a tree and lie than stand on the ground and tell the truth.” She took the pen off her desk and stood up to write on the puzzle wall. “Saw sister one week prior to disappearance,” she called out, writing down the words under Hank Bennett’s name. “What else did Juice say?”

  “Hank Bennett told him to cut Kitty off heroin.”

  “You mean Lucy?”

  “No, I mean Kitty.”

  Evelyn turned around. “Why would Hank Bennett want Juice to cut Kitty off heroin?”

  Amanda pulled a Sergeant Hodge. “That’s an interesting question.”

  Evelyn groaned as she looked back at the puzzle. “Maybe Andrew Treadwell sent Hank Bennett to get Kitty cleaned up.”

  “Maybe.”

  Amanda could tell she wasn’t convinced. “Okay, try this: Trey Callahan at the Union Mission said that Kitty stuck out from the other girls. She was obviously from an upper class. It wouldn’t take much poking around to find out who her people were. Maybe Juice tried to blackmail Treadwell, and Treadwell sent Hank Bennett to do his dirty work.” She scanned her notes. “Juice said it himself, that Bennett offered him money to get Kitty off the Boy.”

  Evelyn breathed a heavy sigh. “Bennett went to bribe Juice about Kitty, but then he saw that his sister was there?”

  “Juice said that Bennett didn’t see Lucy that time, but who knows? They all lie.”

  “Yes, they do.” Evelyn bent down and studied the yellow page with the timeline drawn out. “We need to update this. Call it out to me.”

  “Thanks for taking the hard part.” Amanda flipped through her notes as Evelyn waited. “Okay. The letter for Lucy Bennett comes to the Union Mission. We have both Trey Callahan and Juice confirming that.”

  Evelyn took out a new piece of blue construction paper, stuck it on the wall, and wrote THE LETTER across the center. “Did Juice know what it said?”

  “That he wanted to see his sister. That he missed her. Juice took it for a load of bull.”

  “Look at me, agreeing with a pimp.”

  Amanda continued, “Hank Bennett shows up at the mission a few days later and talks to Trey Callahan. Then, presumably soon after, he goes to Juice on his street corner. He sees Kitty instead. He tells Juice to cut Kitty loose. He doesn’t ask about his sister.” She squinted at her scribbles. “Juice made a point of telling me that he told Bennett to wait around for a few minutes, that Lucy would be right along, but Bennett didn’t wait.”

  Evelyn guessed, “So, seeing Kitty put finding Lucy on the back burner for our boy lawyer.”

  “Evidently,” Amanda concurred. “Then, two weeks later, Lucy is gone. A week or so after that, Kitty is gone. And then Mary disappeared after that.” Amanda looked up from the notebook. “Three girls gone. But why?”

  “Tell me so I can stop writing.” Evelyn shook a cramp out of her hand before she finished the updating. Finally, she stood back and stared at the timeline. They both did. The puzzle was sprawling now, different bits of information floating around without a seeming connection. “I feel like we’re missing something.”

  “Okay—” Amanda stood up. Pacing sometimes helped her think. “Let’s think about it this way: Bennett was trying to get in touch with his sister. His father was dead. His mother wanted to see her daughter, to let her know what had happened. So Hank goes to the streets looking for Lucy, only he finds Kitty Treadwell.”

  “All right.”

  “Bennett said that he sent Lucy the letter in August. He remembered it because he’d just graduated law school and his father was recently deceased. Later, he told us that he was a first-year associate at Treadwell-Price.”

  “Oh-h-h.” Evelyn drew out the word. She picked up her pen and wrote down the approximate dates. “Bennett sees Kitty whored out on the street and parlays that into a job with Treadwell-Price?” She smiled. “That’s a top firm. A job there sets you up for life. I can totally see that weasel trying to work his sister’s tragedy to his own benefit.”

  “Right.”

  Evelyn sat back down in the chair. “But what does this have to do with Jane Delray? And why would Bennett lie about the ID? What does he gain from Lucy being dead? Oh!” She excitedly jabbed the pen in the air. “Insurance. I was looking at it from the wrong angle. Of course there’s no policy on Lucy. Bennett told us himself—his father’s dead, the mother’s just as good as, which leaves the estate and whatever policies the parents have to the children.” She sat up in the chair. “Maybe Bennett wanted to see Lucy in order to get her to sign away her claim to the estate. That happened with one of Bill’s clients last year. The old man was batty as a fruitcake. His children got him to sign away every last dime.”

  “Hank Bennett certainly strikes me as an opportunist.”

  “And besides, what would be the alternative?” Evelyn asked. “That Bennett killed Jane Delray? We saw him two days ago. His hands were perfectly clean. No cuts or bruises, which is exactly what you’d get if you attacked somebody.”

  Amanda remembered the skin under Jane Delray’s fingernails. “She scratched her assailant. You would think he’d have a mark on the back of his hands or his neck or face.”

  “Unless she scratched his arm. His chest. He was wearing a three-piece suit. Who knows what was under there?” Evelyn blew out a puff of air. “I don’t see Hank Bennett strangling a prostitute to death, then throwing her off the roof of Techwood Homes. Do you?”

  Amanda didn’t know what the man was capable of. “I just get a bad feeling about him.”

  “Me, too.”

  They both stared at the wall. Amanda let her gaze wander, picking up different names out of order. She said, “Juice told me that Kitty was renting out her apartment to the other girls.”

  “I guess she gets that entrepreneurial spirit from her father.”

  “The next logical step would be to interrogate Andrew Treadwell and Hank Bennett.”

  “Or, we could flap our hands and fly to the moon.”

  “We should go back to Trey Callahan at the Union Mission. Juice said that he’s friends with the guy who runs the soup kitchen.”

  Evelyn’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Is it just me,
or does everyone lie to us?”

  “They lie to the men, too. No one tells you the truth if you have a badge.”

  “Well, I suppose we should tell Betty Friedan we’ve finally achieved some parity.”

  Amanda smiled.

  “We should talk to the soup kitchen guy, too.”

  “We still don’t know who Butch’s CI is. Someone at Techwood identified Jane Delray as Lucy Bennett.”

  Evelyn took a clean sheet of paper out of her desk drawer. “Okay, first thing tomorrow: Union Mission, then the soup kitchen, then Techwood to show around the photographs of the girls. Do you think we could sneak a picture of Hank Bennett?” She tapped her pen on the desk. “I know a gal over at the driver’s license bureau. I bet we can get his photograph that way.”

  Amanda looked at her friend. She was showing the same mixture of excitement and purpose that Amanda had felt all week. Something about working this case made them forget the danger involved. She said, “Two people warned me off this today.”

  “Landry?”

  “Three, then. Holly Scott and Deena Coolidge. They both told me that I was crazy to be doing this.”

  Evelyn chewed her lip. She didn’t have to say that the women were right.

  Amanda asked, “Are we really going to keep doing this?”

  Evelyn stared back at her rather than respond. They both knew that they should stop. They both knew what was on the line. Not just their jobs. Their lives. Their futures. If they were fired from the police force, no one else would hire them. They would be pariahs.

  “Girls!” Bill Mitchell called. “Supper’s on.”

  Evelyn stood up. She squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Pretend it’s wonderful, whatever it is.”

  Amanda didn’t know whether Evelyn was referring to Bill’s supper or the mess they were getting themselves into. Either way, she couldn’t help but feel admiration as she followed the other woman into the hallway. Evelyn was either the most upbeat person the world had ever offered or the most delusional.

  “Ladies.” Kenny was standing beside the hi-fi with a record in his hands. “What’s your pleasure?”