Authors: Dorothy Phaire
“That’s the number for a good psychiatrist,” Renee said calmly, “I suggest you use it. Perhaps Dr. Stone can help a fifty-plus year old woman stop behaving like a selfish, oversexed teenager.”
“Fifty-plus!” Irene shouted, “How dare you imply …”
Renee left the room and closed the door without listening to the rest of Mrs. Adams outburst. Did Brenda’s mother realize how lucky she was to have such a lovely and kind-hearted daughter like Brenda? How could anyone be that wrapped up in themselves and so ungrateful about the precious gifts God had given them? She’d give anything to have a child of her own–just one. Renee didn’t want to waste another thought on Irene Adams.
She returned to the two-way mirror behind room number one where Lt. Bradford still carried on his interrogation of Brenda. Detective Bradford conducted the questioning while Deek stood at the opposite end of the room and listened, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.
“If you didn’t do it, Mrs. Johnson, who do you think did?” snapped Lt. Bradford. Brenda stared down at her hands without answering.
After several moments of silence, Brenda told him she remembered a telephone call Jerome received a little more than a week before he was killed. She said her husband acted nervous and frightened after the phone call and then soon left the house.
“Who called? You got a name?”
Brenda shrugged and shook her head.
“Who did you conspire with to concoct this scheme? Was it your mother and her boy toy, Hercules?” said Bradford. Brenda didn’t respond as Bradford continued badgering her. “Looks like things worked out pretty good with you getting your child back safely in less than 24 hours. Sure seems nice of the killer to conveniently drop off your baby in front of a guard’s station,” he added sarcastically.
“Yes, thank God for that,” Brenda responded wistfully.
“Maybe you should be thanking whoever you conspired with to concoct this arson/kidnapping/murder offense. You expected to rack up another insurance payoff didn’t you Mrs. Johnson?” said Bradford, leaning forward across the table. “A real windfall this time, 50 thousand bucks of free money. Not to mention the added benefit of getting your revenge for finding your husband cheating on you again with Miss Lewis.” That got a reaction from her. Brenda’s face flushed and she gave him a scorching look. Still, her mouth remained clamped shut.
“The crime lab lifted your fingerprints off pieces of duct tape that the arsonist ripped from the window to break in.”
Brenda looked up. “That’s not surprising Detective Bradford since I’m the one who sealed up the window in the first place. Mama Etta’s house was over fifty years old with poor insulation. I used the duct tape to try and block out the cold air that was getting in.”
“Hum, convenient,” he said, undeterred. “We also collected a sample from the arsonist’s clothing that got caught on a nail as he or she escaped through the window. Do you have a black knit Coogi sweat jacket in your possession?”
“No, I do not.”
“It’s amazing what lab analysis can determine from just a few strands of fabric.”
“Good. I hope it leads you to who really killed my husband,” said Brenda.
“You slipped through the cracks nine years ago ‘cause they didn’t have enough evidence to charge you. If you think I buy that disassociation crap Dr. Hayes is selling, think again, Mrs. Johnson,” he said, “If you cooperate now, it’ll go better for you in the long run.”
“I’m cooperating as much as I can, Detective,” said Brenda near tears, “I want to go home to my baby.”
“Too bad. At this rate you’ll never see him grow up.”
“What do you want from me, Detective Bradford?”
“A confession.”
“I’m not guilty.”
“Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?
“Of course, I have nothing to hide,” she said, “I’ll do anything to convince you I’m innocent so you can start looking for the person responsible.”
“Fine, I’ll schedule the test for one day next week.”
Deek gave Bradford a signal that meant let’s talk outside. The two detectives left Brenda again and they met out in the squad room.
“I think we should let up off Mrs. Johnson for awhile,” said Deek, “I’m still waiting on the gas chromatography analysis. Roberts says he’ll have it by Monday. Then we’ll be able to pinpoint where the arsonist bought the gasoline and maybe directly to the perp’s fuel tank.”
Bradford stuffed both hands inside his pants pocket and shook his head.
“Can’t you wait until Monday before scheduling a polygraph, Mel?” said Deek, “It’s only a matter of time before we fill in the missing pieces.”
“Whaddya have against putting her through the test, Kid?”
“It’s obvious this suspect is under a great deal of emotional stress. Strapping her to a chair with sensors will only make her anxiety worse,” said Deek. “Testing someone this emotional could produce a false positive result even if she’s telling us the truth. Since we don’t have an eyewitness, why not wait for more lab results.”
“Right, there’s no eyewitness but there’s a helluva lot of compelling evidence against her. And, since I don’t think she pulled this off alone, I’m willing to bet it was a Mother and Daughter operation. I’m trying to get her to confess now to make it easier on her and you’re not helping. You know the DA’s going for the death penalty and the city’s top prosecutor is taking the case.”
“With the flimsy evidence we’re giving them, just how do you think the prosecution can build a case of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt? The only finger prints at the crime scene are explainable and no witness can place her there.”
“That’s their job description, Hotshot, not ours,” snapped Mel. “I’ve got my orders to charge her. So let’s put this thing in overdrive and call it a day.”
“If that’s the game they want to play it’s a big risk,” said Deek, “They still want to go ahead and try the case on conjecture with very little hard evidence? If Brenda Johnson is truly guilty and gets off, it’ll be for good. They can’t ever try her again for this crime.”
Bradford shrugged, “That’s their fuckin’ problem. I did my job.”
Deek gave his partner a disgusted look.
“Look Kid, despite our lack of physical evidence, a strong motive and opportunity still exists. In other words, no alibi and there’s a past precedent for insurance fraud. I’ll bet my badge that Brenda and a possible accomplice were in on this crime together. And since the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, my money’s on the mother. Lemme go find out what Mommy Dearest has to say, “said Detective Bradford, “I bet she’s ready to talk by now. It’ll be a helluva lot easier to offer her a deal to give up the dirt on Brenda. I bet she’ll jump at the bait to plea bargain for a lesser sentence.”
Just then the Captain walked up.
“How’s the Johnson case going, Mel?” she asked, “About ready to put this case to bed, I hope.”
“Sure thing, Captain. I was just going in to break down a deal to the alleged accomplice in this Thelma and Louise outfit. Louise is tight-lipped but I think I can make Thelma crack. Stick around and watch me operate,” he bragged to his boss.
Detective Bradford dubbed Mrs. Adams as the feisty Thelma in what he believed to be a mother-daughter crime plot. He entered room 3 to interrogate Irene Adams alone. Captain Frye, Deek, and Renee positioned themselves behind the mirror so they could observe Bradford questioning the suspected accomplice. Bradford asked Irene Adams to sit down. Then pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from her.
“You’ve known the victim, Jerome Johnson since your daughter was in high school. How did you feel about your son-in-law, Mrs. Adams?”
“He wasn’t on my list of top favorites but I had nothing to do with his murder and neither did my daughter. She’s practically a saint.”
“Listen, I’m on your side, Mrs. Adams. I think the cheating, crackhead bastard got what he deserved,” he said.
“Despite what you think, Detective, I didn’t hate my son-in-law,” said Irene. “It’s true, I didn’t like some of the people he associated with, especially that slut, Leenae Lewis. But since Jerome was the man my daughter chose, I accepted it and tried to make him feel like part of the family.”
Mel gave Irene Adams an expressionless look. “You must think I’m as dumb as a box of rocks to believe that crap. We got witnesses who’ll attest to your intense hatred of your son-in-law from day one. Where were you on October 6th between eleven in the morning and one PM?”
“Detective Bradford, we aren’t getting anywhere this way,” she said, sweetly.
Irene rose slowly from her chair and walked around the table then sat on top the table facing him. She let her skirt rise several inches and crossed her legs to the opposite side where he had a clear view of her exposed thigh. She removed her jacket and unbuttoned the first three buttons of her sheer, black blouse to reveal a generous cleavage under a turquoise satin bustier.
“Did you know I used to be stripper in my younger days?” she said, “Men told me I had Tina Turner legs. You like Tina Turner, don’t you Detective?”
“What do you think? I’m not dead,” said Bradford and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Irene leaned forward, stared into his widening eyes while he tried unsuccessfully not to look directly at her breasts. Irene pointed to her satin bra. “I’m wearing matching thongs,” she said and licked her bottom lip, “would you like to see them?”
Bradford turned and glanced briefly at the blacked out mirror behind him. Sweat beads settled on his forehead. His breathing increased but he sat speechless and watched as Irene re-crossed her legs to the other side.
“You’re a man of the law so let’s negotiate a quid pro quo,” she smiled seductively, “In other words, you do something for me and I do something for you.”
Bradford stood up, removed a handkerchief from his jacket and quickly brushed it across his face. “Yeah Mrs. Adams, you can do something for me. You can tell me the truth in exchange for not getting cuffed and fingerprinted. That'll be your quid pro quo. Your daughter’s been jerking my chain all morning and I’m not about to waste all goddamn day on you too.”
“I don’t like your tone or your language, Detective Bradford,” said Irene and leaped off the table. She straightened her skirt and re-buttoned her blouse. Then snatched up her jacket and mink coat from the back of the chair. “I want to call my lawyer and my husband now. If you aren’t going to charge me, release me immediately. I know my rights.”
Bradford stormed out of the interrogation room enraged. He ordered an officer standing nearby to direct Mrs. Adams to a telephone. When Deek and Renee walked up to his desk, his attention remained fixed on the affidavit in support of arrest warrant. He didn’t look up although he knew they were standing there.
“Mel, you can’t take your frustration out on Brenda just because her mother’s a piece of work,” said Deek. He tried to convince his partner to wait until Monday to make an arrest but his argument fell on deaf ears.
“Sorry, Young Blood. I’m filing formal charges against her right now. In my book, the spouse is always a prime suspect unless somebody can show me otherwise and so far, that hasn't happened.”
Lt. Bradford ordered an officer to escort Brenda downstairs to the receiving area to be booked. Her motives: an insurance payout of 50 thousand dollars, and secondly, a woman scorned when she discovered her husband cheating on her with his old girlfriend. Bradford told Deek and Renee he had enough circumstantial evidence to detain Brenda Johnson based on probable cause. And, since he also thought her mother was involved—in fact Mrs. Adams might have even been the mastermind, he’d keep looking for evidence so he could eventually book her too. Bradford handed them his warrant and supporting documentation to review.
On the affidavit in support of arrest, Brenda faced federal fraud and first-degree murder charges that accused her of improperly trying to collect on Jerome Johnson’s life insurance policy after allegedly setting or conspiring with an accomplice to start a fire with the intent to cause her husband’s death. An additional charge listed was intent to destroy property. The charges included information from witnesses and several neighbors.
After reading the affidavit, Deek threw up his hands and walked away. Renee followed him to his desk and sank in the chair in front of him. Brenda’s lawyer, Mr. K. C. Bloodstone, would have to perform a miracle to get her out of jail tonight, thought Renee.
“So what happens to Brenda now?” she asked Deek with a worried look on her face.
“Now that she’s been arrested, she’ll appear for arraignment in D. C. Superior Courthouse on Monday. The judge will weigh her lawyer’s argument and determine initial pre-trail detention status at the arraignment hearing. That means whether she stays in jail or gets out on bail.”
“What are her chances of getting out on bail?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know. If we go by past precedent, not very good.”
“But it really comes down to how good her lawyer is,” said Deek, “and I hear K. C. Bloodstone is one of the best criminal attorneys in D. C. Then it could also depend on who the judge is.”
“So basically, you have no idea,” said Renee, folding her arms with a frustrated sigh.
“Generally speaking when somebody is accused of a violent crime like murder, her attorney will have to convince the judge that she’s no danger to the community, there’s no risk of flight and that she won’t get involved in the kind of conduct that she’s accused of while out on bail. The District’s pre-trial contention laws are so severe I doubt that she’ll be able to get out before trial.”
“My God, this is terrible. She could be locked up for months with no one but Irene Adams to care for little Justin,” said Renee. “Though it sounds like if Bradford gets his way Irene Adams will be occupying her own cell. I doubt that any of her relatives can take the baby to his sitter’s every day. And, who would pay the sitter? That is, if Bradford doesn’t try to arrest Mrs. Adams too as an accomplice.”
“I don’t think Mel wants to tangle with Mrs. Adams based on nothing but his intuition after what we just saw in the interrogation room,” said Deek, with a subtle grin. “He is going to have to dig for some credible evidence.”