light-skinned, blond, a little smile contradicting the
sadness in her eyes. There are many pictures of me and Gracie. She’s all
southern comfort. Her breasts are cushions, she radiates, glows, gives, is a
buffer to the outside world, the way she folds herself around me.
When I was little, I was drowning in her love.
Chapter
11
At 9 pm, Pete Macintosh got an email from his Sergeant, with three
documents attached. He printed them all out, looked for his yellow highlighter,
got a beer from the fridge and settled in his seasoned leather recliner. Its
faint odor of tobacco dated back to the times when he still enjoyed the
occasional cigar. The patina it had developed after many nights of sitting and
pondering—on some of them he had even fallen asleep in it and woken up with a
cramped neck—only increased its sentimental value, while the deep indentation
in the seat cushion begged for re-upholstery and reduced it again to just a
notch above the dump. But that didn’t matter. It was the only piece of
furniture he would take with him. Him and the old chair, sitting out what was
left of his life once the force didn’t need him anymore.
He leaned back, lifted the footrest, settled into a relaxing position,
opened his beer can and began to read the documents. He highlighted the
segments he found most interesting. He needed a sheet of paper in his hands, two
dimensions, words in black and white. Marking them with yellow anchored them in
his brain, and that way he could recall them whenever he needed them. Various pieces
of information that by themselves didn’t make sense would eventually find their
place in the puzzle. All he had to do was collect enough of them.
Document One:
Memo by Dr. Stanley Eaton, M.D. F.R.C.P. copy to VPD, re: Tiara
Brown …
Alleged suspect refuses to cooperate with case manager, psychologist
or social worker …. states repeatedly her name is Princess Tia…is
non-disclosive …
Princess Tia? Really?
Document Two:
Interview of Melissa Brown, mother of alleged suspect Tiara Brown
“… I really don’t know what I can tell you. There is nothing to
tell. I told you everything I know already, what else should there be?
…. we lived in Galveston before we came here.
… it’s been a while. It was 358 or 357, I’m not so sure anymore,
Carolina Road.
…Galveston is close by Houston. Lovely ocean town. Most of it is on
a bay.
… I worked at different places. Supermarkets, you know, wherever I
could get a job.
… no, I have no idea who this woman might be. No idea at all. That’s
what’s driving me crazy—oh, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just a figure of
speech, right. Driving one crazy doesn’t mean one is, right?
… Tiara has never, never, I mean never, shown any aggression toward anyone.
You can ask anybody.
… whom? What do you mean, whom?
…well, you can ask the people in our neighborhood.
…Friends? I can’t really say. My daughter kept mostly to herself, she
is more the quiet type. Sure she had friends.
… please, I told you, I can’t think straight. How could I write
anything down now?
… sure, I’ll make you a list of her friends later.
Document Three:
Interview of Louise Brown, grandmother of alleged suspect Tiara
Brown …
“I can’t say anything. I’m just the grandmother and I didn’t know
her until she came back to Canada three years ago. We have not been close. Talk
to my daughter, she will tell you everything you need to know.”
Macintosh let the documents rest in his lap, lowered the recliner a
notch, closed his eyes and thought about what he had read. It was ridiculous to
get sucked into the case by one stupid comment, but what could he do. He had a
curious nature. That’s how he’d become a decorated detective.
He had a feeling the grandmother would crack first, admit to
whatever she and Melissa were trying to hide—and that could be anything from
small mistakes they had made in Tiara’s
Learning to Kill: Stories