Remember Me (57 page)

Glaring at Satin for a moment with utter hatred and loathing, Radcliffe wisely held his tongue and stalked back to his county vehicle. Climbing inside, he slammed the door shut angrily and lit a cigarette.
Brian was impressed with her ability to make even his bosses back down, when the truth of
the matter was, they had every right to be there.
She needs a man that can control her, a man like me!
He
thought. The very day he had joined the department, he had been warned about her. 'The Iron Maiden' was her nickname in the squad room. It was a nickname she had earned because of her vicious and aggressive defense of her clients in the courtroom. She had made many a patrolman, character witnesses, medical experts, and even seasoned detectives look like monkeys on the witness stand, and had made many enemies because of it. The only people (besides himself) who did seem to like her were former jury members, who had been enthralled and endlessly entertained by her over-the-top courtroom antics. It was also a running joke in the community that she had spent more time in jail than most of her clients, as a result of angry judges constantly citing her for contempt of court. He only wished she would give that same kind of devotion to cops who worked hard to serve and protect the community.
“If you're done looking at me all moon-eyed, I'll explain what happened.” she snapped. But the truth was, she was uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, and the unfamiliar, intense feelings it was stirring deep within her.
He's a cop, the enemy!
She
reminded herself.
“I need to talk to the Mortenso
n's, and any other witnesses first.” he replied in a cold voice, making sure she knew he wouldn't be intimidated by her, as so many others were.
Not even realizing it herself, she took a step back and ran a hand over her face. With a heavy sigh, she reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait, listen to me. It was a suicide. A staff member witnessed Grace pull the trigger. The Mortensen's aren't calm enough to talk yet. You can understand that Mr. Mortensen is inconsolable. Jocelyn, his mother -in- law, and Cassandra took him to the guest house. I phoned a grief counselor, she's on her way here now.”
“Ok.”
Releasing his arm, she turned and led the way up the steps and through the front door.
                               
*********************************
Stepping inside the breath taking home, Brian saw several people standing in the foyer, trying to comfort a young black woman, who was weeping quietly.
“That's Latasha Weeks, she witnessed it. The poor girl happened to walk in just as Grace pulled the trigger. I think the counselor will have to see her too.” Satin said in a low voice as she watched Malcolm and other staff members trying to comfort the upset girl.
“I'll speak to her after I take in the scene.” he answered in a quiet, respectful tone, then motioned with one hand at everything, and nothing. “Lead the way.”
Once they were out of earshot of the staff, he muttered, “Care to tell me how you got the blood on your shirt?”
“I was checking for a pulse, and it got on me somehow. I wasn't exactly in a cool, calm, collective state of mind at the time, ya' know?”
“Perfectly understandable.” he muttered just as she motioned to a room on their right.
Leading him inside a lavish room that looked like a private office, Satin stopped just inside the doorway and stood there in silence, staring at the floor. She had witnessed death before, but this was something different altogether. It was so senseless, and pain, coupled with guilt, lanced her heart as she again thought of the role she had played in the woman's death.
The first thing Brian noticed was the pungent smell of blood and gunpowder. It was an unmistakable combination, and one that he would never get used to it seemed. Walking up to the body, which was slumped behind the desk in the large, overstuffed leather desk chair, he glanced at the Sergeant and younger patrolman. “Thanks guys, I'll take it from here.”
“Yes sir.” the Sergeant answered, then left with the younger, pale-faced officer in tow.
Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the lifeless body. Leaning in close, he could see the entrance wound on her right-side temple, and the gun powder burns were a clear indication that the gun had been pressed firmly against her temple when the shot was fired.

Straightening up, he took a step back and looked into the once sparkling blue eyes, now a dull color, that stared at nothing. When he looked into the eyes of the dead it always unsettled him. He had always believed that the eyes were really the window to the soul, and to him, that dull, glazed look was a reminder that the person's soul had indeed departed from
its
earthly shell.
Why would this woman, with everything to live for, want to die?
He
wondered as he pulled a pair of latex gloves from his
jacket
pocket and slid them on.

Making his way to the other side of the corpse, he gingerly examined the gaping exit wound. Glancing down at the floor, he saw the gun that had slipped from her hand, and bent down to get a closer look at it. But in his heart, he already knew the dead woman's fingerprints would be the only ones found on the weapon.
“Yo! Golden boy! Captain called me in to help.” a loud, boisterous voice called out.
Startled, he looked up and saw his fellow detective/partner, Samson Brigs, along with several forensic techs, sauntering into the room, pointedly ignoring the glare that Satin Johnson was suddenly gracing him with.
“Can you believe it? The first time in I don't know HOW long, I was sleeping like a new born baby! No rest for us working stiffs, no sir!” Samson sighed as he slid on a pair of latex gloves himself. Glancing at the corpse, he whistled softly, his rugged, dark ebony face grimacing. “Man, is this family going through some trying times, or what? Guess money don't mean a thing, in the grand scheme of things. Well, like my mom used to say, misery is
a human condition that no man can escape.” Nodding his head in the direction of the now empty doorway, he smirked, “Guess the Iron Maiden doesn't have an iron stomach, huh? But you can bet your boots she's standing guard out there, like an annoying, ankle-biting little terrier, waiting for use to screw up. What the hell is she doing here, anyway?”
With a heavy sigh, Brian winced inwardly, knowing she could undoubtedly hear his partner's booming voice. “She's Mr. Mortensen's attorney.” he replied. He knew the older detective, who was nearing retirement, had never liked her, and the feeling was mutual. To Samson, she, and lawyers like her, were what was wrong with the judicial system. Ambulance chasing, cock-gobbling highway robbers who defended the scum of the earth, according to him. “I haven't questioned her in depth yet. She said the deceased shot herself, and a maid witnessed it.” Looking his partner square in the eyes, he said in a quiet voice, “Believe it or not, she looked extremely shaken when I first arrived.”
“Shaken? So Satan made a guest appearance here today?” he laughed. “I don't buy it, that ball-buster can't feel shit. You can take her statement, because the way I'm feeling right now, one wrong word comes out of her mouth, and she'll be sharing a cell with the meanest bull dyke we have in lock-up. She got blood on her shirt, you need to get it for evidence, just to cover our asses.” he instructed his younger partner. “That will probably be the only thing in her life the bitch ever gave up for free. Because I know she never gave up any of that pudding-tang, or she wouldn't be such a bitch. What is she, twenty-something? Yet acts like she hasn't been laid in thirty-five years.”
His comment made all the occupants in the room laugh, all except Brian. He knew what Samson's problem was. The last time Satin had him on the stand in court, she had made him look like a bumbling rookie, and it was no small secret he was holding a grudge over that humiliation.
                       
************************************************
On the phone with her aide, Lacey, Satin leaned against the wall, head down as she talked. “Cancel all my meetings tomorrow. I'll request a continuance for all my court dates for the next week. I'll be here at the Mortensen Estate until all this is settled. If you could, go to my place, pack me some clothing and toiletries, and bring them here in the morning. If you could do that I would really appreciate it.”
Dedicated to the end...
Brian thought as he stood off to the side, watching as she put all the rest of her business on hold to be here for this family. Something about that blind loyalty was a turn on to him, but it was something more that drew him to her like a moth to a flame.
What is it? After all, she's not really my type…
he thought. He had dated women of all races, that wasn't a problem at all for him, but unlike most of the women he had dated, she was loud and abrasive.
But damn, she's sexy...
his smaller head countered. She bullied people.
All the better to make her mine and tame her.
She was a talented lawyer that was out of his league.
Don't know how, but I'm going to get her, soon!
“I take it you're ready for me.” her husky voice interrupted his thoughts as she stood
looking up at him, with her hand on her lush hips.
Blinking and clearing his throat, he felt his manhood rage to life as desire coursed through him like a virus. She didn't know how ready for her he really was. Recovering, he asked lightly, “Excuse me?”
Reverting back to her usual, cold sarcasm, she replied, spacing her words as if speaking to a simpleton. “Are...You...Ready...To...Question...Me?”
Feeling his face burning, he narrowed his eyes and leaned in close to her, stealing a quick glance around them to make sure no one else was within earshot. “ Don't push it peanut, because like I told you before, I have plans for you. And unless you want everyone to see you get that ass smacked, you'll address me with the respect I deserve, you understand what I'm saying to you?” Looking her dead in the eye, he could see she was struggling to not back down, so he pressed his momentary advantage before she had a chance to speak. “Before you open up that lush, but loud mouth of yours, let me warn you, one foul word better not sally forth. And if you think I'm kidding, try me, just try me. Now, suppose you tell me, in a civilized manner, what happened.”
Stunned, she couldn't understand this. If anyone else had addressed her that way, there would have been hell to pay. But here she was, standing here looking at this man like he was some pop star, and she some virginal, starry-eyed teeny bopper.
I'm only respecting the dead and her family…
she told herself. Still silent, she did her best to keep from looking away, and almost screamed with frustration when her eyes, seemingly of their own volition, turned away meekly.
Smiling, Brian was clearly pleased with his small victory. Deciding to not push it, he erased the smirk off his face and took a step back, careful not to be in her personal space.
“I came to speak to Granger, I mean Mr. Mortensen. There was a disagreement with his mother, she became upset and left the library where everyone had gathered, and shortly after she left the room, we all heard what sounded like a gunshot. Granger ran from the room and I followed, along with all the other people who were there. We heard the girl screaming, and followed the sound. I...we...” her voice trailed off as she finally looked at him again.
Studying her in silence for a moment, he thought,
She's holding something back!
“What was the disagreement about?” he finally asked.
Keenly aware of his scrutiny, she slipped the phone she had been using earlier in her bag. “All I'm at liberty to say is that it was some bit of family history that she had withheld from her son. Had been withholding for a very long time. Information that upset him badly.”
Instinct told Brian that that was all the information he would get from her, at least for the time being. “Alright.” he replied in a slow, reflective voice. “Listen, I'm going to need that shirt for evidence, Ok?” he said, and was surprised when she simply nodded, instead of
flying off the handle as he had expected.
Stepping away from him almost like she was getting out of
harm’s
way, she replied in a voice loud enough for everyone in the next room to hear. “One of the staff is getting me something, right now, to change in to, since I heard that smartass Samson earlier. And if he knew his damn job, he would want ALL my clothing, just to be sure. I'll put them all in a bag anyway. Well, everything but my panties, since he would no doubt carry them around for awhile, sniffing them. I mean, since we all know no REAL woman would have his pathetic, gimpy old ass. Maybe he should go visit that bull dyke he was talking about earlier. Wait, come to think of it, she probably has bigger balls than he does, so it would never work out.” That said, she spun on her heels, and with a defiant tilt of her head, marched off.
Hearing laughter from the detectives in the next room, Brian grinned as he listened closely and could not hear the laughter of his partner among them. Watching her firm, tight buttocks sway seductively as she marched down the hallway, he shook his head and laughed. He knew the foul language was her own way of rebelling against him, but he would take care of that soon enough. The truth was, he loved a good chase, and he was planning on chasing Satin Johnson down to the ends of the earth, it that's what it took, and wearing her ass out good.
Shaking his head one last time, he got his mind back to the business at hand, questioning the witness.