Stepping Down (15 page)

He stepped back, and Mark followed suit.

"The last thing Bria needs is a bunch of church folk
comin' around here. I'm her family. We look out for her, and we look out for
each other. I suggest you and your wife look out, too."

The threat in her tone caught Mark off guard. "Excuse
me?"

"You heard me. And you and your wife betta stop comin'
up to this hospital. Don't, next time, I'll have somethin' waitin' on
you." She flipped her braids and ducked back into Bria's room.

Sharla had pretended like she didn't want Mark to go with
Rev. Jackson, but the timing couldn't have been better. She and Danny
Hernandez, the family attorney, planned to meet up with Rozanno and squash his
foolish theory before it gained any momentum.

Danny had warned Sharla that sometimes once a detective has
made up in his heart or mind that a suspect was guilty, he or she would proceed
with the investigation in a biased manner.

"But that's not fair," Sharla had complained, even
though she realized she sounded naive.

"It's human nature," Danny said. "No one
wants to be proven wrong."

"The thing is, I haven't done anything wrong,"
Sharla reiterated. Didn't it matter that she was actually innocent?

"That may be, but you still have to defend yourself against
allegations. You can't imagine the number of people sitting behind bars right
now because they thought being innocent was enough," he said.

As much as Sharla wanted to think that Danny was just trying
to make himself seem extremely valuable so he could bill her for as many hours
as possible, a part of her couldn't deny what he was saying.

Her Uncle Jimmy had spent twelve years in prison for an
armed robbery that he swore on his deathbed he didn't commit. Her grandmother
vouched for Jimmy's whereabouts on the day of the robbery, but she couldn't
prove that Jimmy had been in bed asleep because...well, how do you prove that
someone was asleep? There's no record, no evidence of someone
not
being
somewhere.

Largely based on the eyewitness testimony of a person who
was two aisles over in the mom-and-pop convenience store, Uncle Jimmy spent the
first part of his adult life rooming with murderers, rapists, and drug dealers.
If he wasn't a hardened criminal before he went in, he sure was one when he got
out. He admitted to doing wrong the second time he went to prison, but
Grandmother always said it was the system that had turned Uncle Jimmy into a
criminal.

That same system was pointing fingers at Sharla. She thanked
God they had the money to afford a good lawyer. Even if they didn't, she'd have
sold everything to retain Danny because without him, she'd probably end up
broke anyway.

Danny met her outside the police station ten minutes before
their appointment. They sat on a bench as he prepped her before going inside.
"We'll sit side by side, just like we are now. Look at me before you
answer a question. I'll nod and tell you to go ahead or I'll answer for you. Got
it?"

"Got it." Sharla gave a child-like nod.

After the lecture he'd given her when she called to tell him
about what happened with Rozanno, Sharla wasn't about to deviate from the plan.

“You follow my lead and this interview will be over before
you know it,” Danny assured her.

“Interview? I thought it was an interrogation.”

“He said ‘interrogation’ to intimidate you. But when I set
it up, he called it an interview, which is exactly what it is, legally. I know
his type.”

Rozanno was visibly upset with Danny's presence in the
interrogation room. The attorney was taller than Rozanno by at least four
inches, with a nose that had clearly been broken at least once, and intense
eyes. Sharla smiled inside. Rozanno would get the chance to know what it felt
like to be intimidated.

As soon as all the equipment was prepped and the same
identifying questions were asked, Rozanno started, "Mrs. Carter, did you
know that your husband was having an affair with Bria Logan?"

Danny popped in, "An
alleged
affair. You're
trying to get at a motive; I'm advising my client not to answer this question
based on the fact there's no proof an affair was taking place. She won't
subject herself to supposition."

Rozanno's skin flushed a shade. He stretched his neck.
"Well, let's go to something we can prove. Lisa Logan said that you were
at the hospital waiting in the ICU to see Bria. Is this true?"

Again, Danny jumped in, "What proof do you have that my
client was at the hospital?"

"It's not hard to run the tape," Rozanno laughed
uneasily.

"But have you done it?" Danny pinned him.

"Not yet."

"Until you do, this is all heresay. Next
question." Danny sighed as though Rozanno was wasting everyone's time.

While a part of Sharla wanted to cheer for Danny, she was
still afraid. What if Danny's flagrant attitude made Rozanno even angrier?
Wasn't the fact that she wasn't answering questions making her look guilty, like
she was hiding behind her lawyer?

Rozanno clicked his cheek, "All right, wise guy, where
was your client the night of the accident?"

Danny nodded at Sharla.

"I was at home watching television in my bedroom while
my son and his friend played video games."

"They were upstairs and you were downstairs," the
detective stressed.

She knew he already knew the answer. For the record, Sharla confirmed,
"Yes."

“Mrs. Carter, how many square feet is your home?”

Her lawyer intercepted, “We can provide you with the
builder’s estimate, provided you let us know why.”

“If she was downstairs and the teens were upstairs, there is
always the possibility they weren’t aware she left,” Rozanno exposed himself.
“She has no way of proving that she never left the house.”

“And you have no way of proving that she did,” he turned the
tables. “There must have been witnesses to the accident. Have you interviewed
them?”

“Of course we did.”

“Did any of them indicate seeing my client’s car?”

“I-I-don’t know,” Rozanno said. “We haven’t had opportunity
to compare the descriptions with Mrs. Carter’s vehicle.”

“Do you know what kind of vehicle my client drives?”

“No,” Rozanno said.

“She drives a bright red Mercedes, detective. If a bright
red Mercedes were chasing a big white Escalade down a busy street, that detail
wouldn’t have escaped you. If there are no more questions, shall we conclude
that my client is no longer a person of interest?”

“Not until we run forensics on her car.”

My car?
Sharla’s eyes darted to Danny.

He remained as calm as he’d been the entire meeting. “And
once it’s clear?”

“
If
it’s clear, then…” Rozanno shrugged.

“Then she’s clear.”

“Unless something else comes up.” Rozanno rolled his lips
between his teeth.

“Let me ask you something, if I may,” Danny snooped, “do you
have other suspects in this case? How about—what’s his name?” Danny
turned to Sharla.

“Boomie.”

“Yes. Boomie,” Danny suggested.

Rozanno’s redness deepened again. “I don’t need you two to
tell me how to conduct my investigation.”

 “Fine. She’ll leave her car voluntarily. Sharla, give
him your key.”

She wrestled with the ring for a second, then handed Rozanno
her fob. I’m in the east parking lot.”

Danny asked, “What time can she pick it up tomorrow?”

“Not sure. She can call the station and ask for—”

“No. We’re not playing that game. She’ll be back at noon
tomorrow. If you’re not finished with it by then, you’ll need a subpoena.”
Danny turned to Sharla. “If your car isn’t ready tomorrow at twelve, give me a
call.”

“Good day, detective.” Danny gave the officer a quick
handshake and escorted Sharla past the secure doors and out to a public sitting
area.

“Thank you,” she said, though she wasn’t quite sure if
they’d done the right thing.

“Look, Rozanno’s got some other agenda going on here. My
hunch is that it has nothing to do with you, which means it doesn’t concern us.
So long as you get off the bad list, my job is done.”

Danny checked his watch. “Aye! I gotta go. Can you call
someone for a ride?”

“What?” Sharla flexed her arms like she was carrying two
platters. “I thought you were going to take me home?”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t, I’ve got to get to my daughter’s
birthday party at the daycare. They should be waking up from naptime now.”

His excuse melted Sharla’s heart. If only Mark had been
there to witness that moment. “Go ahead. I’ll get a ride.”

She couldn’t help but think that if Mark had been at home,
where every grown and married man with children ought to be after he left work
at a decent hour, maybe they wouldn’t have been in that predicament.

Why was he so overly-dedicated to New Vision? Wasn’t there
something in the Bible about taking care of home first?

Mark was the last person Sharla wanted to call to come pick
her up. He’d probably grill her worse than Rozanno. She could hear him already:
Why’d you leave your car? Why did you go see the detective without me? How many
hours have you racked up on our tab with Hernandez?

She really didn’t want to hear all that. She called the one
person who could be trusted with that sensitive request. Unfortunately, Candace
didn’t pick up the phone.

Next on the list was another long-time First Lady, Jasmine.
Sharla was sure that Jasmine would share the incident with the other first
ladies, but it would go no further than that. “Hi, Jasmine, this is Sharla. I
was wondering, can you could pick me up from the police station?”

“The police?” she squealed, “What are you doing there?”

“Well, you know all the stuff that’s been happening with
Mark. They wanted to ask me some questions. And they’re scouring my car.”

“Wow,” Jasmine said. “That’s really, really sad, Sharla.
Terrible.”

“I know. So can you pick me up?”

“Definitely.”

Sharla gave the address and took a seat on the bench outside
next to a mother and her infant daughter. The baby had a headful of curly black
locks, and skin the color of black coffee. Beautiful. She was totally
preoccupied with the toys dangling overhead in her car seat. “How old is she?”

“Ten months going on fifteen years,” the young mother
laughed. “She’s got way too much energy for me.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

Sharla admired how well the young mother had dressed her
baby. Pink and purple from head to toe, with little studs in her ears. The
mother’s wedding ring hadn’t skipped Sharla’s notice. It was a platinum band,
lightly dusted with diamonds. Sharla didn’t feel the tinge of jealousy. The
woman
deserved
to have a baby, unlike all the other women who’d simply
laid down with a man and pushed out a baby nine months later.

But even though she wasn’t jealous, Sharla had to wonder:
What made her better than me? What was it about her that made God say, “
That
woman should give birth to a baby, but Sharla shouldn’t?”

Jasmine blew, taking Sharla’s attention from the silent
appraisal.

“Have a good day,” Sharla dismissed herself.

“You, too.”

Sharla hadn’t even had a chance to fasten her seatbelt
before Jasmine sped off. “Where’s the fire?”

“Girl, I got to watch my back,” Jasmine said, eyeing every
mirror and checking every inch of her view. “You know you’re the most talked
about woman in town right now; there’s got to be somebody watching you.”

“Watching me?”

“Mmm hmm.”

When Jasmine lowered the brim of her sunhat, Sharla knew
exactly what she meant. “You have been watching too many television shows.”

“We got to keep low profiles, sis.” Her vibrant makeup and
sequin-top maxi dress wouldn’t have allowed her to be inconspicuous anywhere.
“My husband really didn’t want me to come pick you up, but I told him if we
didn’t help the needy, what good were we?”

I’m needy?
“Thank you.”

“You got it, girl. Now what possessed you to get dropped off
at the police station instead of driving your own car?”

Sharla hinted at the situation without giving up too much
information. She owed Jasmine some kind of clarification, but not her life.

“You know cops are people, too. You got your good ones and
your bad ones,” Jasmine summarized. “Just like pastors.”

“Yep,” Sharla agreed.

“Now, what are you going to do about this other woman?”

Sharla gasped, “My husband was
not
seeing that
woman.”

“Mmm,” Jasmine groaned, giving Sharla the girl-please eye.

“I’m serious.”

Jasmine was silent, turning on the major thoroughfare that
would lead them back to the Carter residence. After hitting a long stretch, she
sighed, “Look, now I know I’m not supposed to be gossiping and I know it is not
my place to tell another woman that her husband might be lying, but as first
ladies, we’ve got to have each other’s backs.”

Sharla put up the time-out signal. “If this is a bunch of
he-said-she-said, I don’t want to hear it.”