As the Wicked Watch(101)

“Nothing makeup won’t fix. It’ll be fine,” I tried to assure her.

“O-kay,” she repeated, still unconvinced. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night. Oh, by the way, there are still no leads on who . . .”—she paused—“Who . . .”

“Attacked me?”

“Yes. I called our comms contact at police headquarters, but nothing new. I’m sorry, Jordan.”

I really had nothing more to say, so we both hung up, not wanting to linger.

I’d expected a return text or call from Joey by now. He had been MIA the last couple days, pulled into investigating a string of home invasions that turned deadly the other night when a fifty-seven-year-old homeowner took on the burglars and was shot to death. I was anxious to talk to him, so I took a chance and called.

“Hey, Jordan. How’re you feeling?” he said.

“Joey! Thank God! You won’t believe what I found out about Louise Robinson and Terrence and his roommate Brent today,” I said, nearly running out of breath before getting to the end.

“Found out? Haven’t you been resting all week?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” I said. “Listen, did you get my text I sent a little while ago?”

“No, I hadn’t looked at my phone yet. Hold on,” he said.

That was nearly an hour ago. I should be used to it by now. Apparently, police detectives weren’t as attached to their cell phones as reporters. I didn’t have to wait long for his reaction.

“I do be damned,” he said.

“I admit, I wasn’t surprised, but having seen this . . . there are no words.”

“Have you shown this to Bartlett? How’d you get it?”

“I sent it to Bartlett and Fawcett, but no word yet from either of them,” I said, avoiding his other question, but Joey wasn’t having it.

“Where’d you get this, Jordan? Masey’s mother?”

“No. From Yvonne.” I hesitated because I knew what would come next. “Okay, so I went over there.”

“Jor-dan! What is wrong with you? You can’t be this smart and so rash at the same time!”

“Listen, there’s more,” I interrupted. “I stopped by Louise Robinson’s house, too. Remember I told you about that crazy Red Moley story? I got a weird feeling about that. Well, it turns out Louise knows Terrence and Brent. She said Brent is like a nephew to her. She was close to his deceased mother.”

“Wait, what?”

“She practically threw me out of her house, Joey. But hold on, I’m not finished. She said Terrence—she calls him Terry—and Brent have a talent business together. She’s heard stories about Terrence’s troubles in New Mexico and asked Brent about it. But he brushed it off as haters are gonna hate.”

My home phone rang. It was the security desk. “Hold on a minute, Joe. Yes?”

“There’s a Thomas Fountain here to see you,” the guard said.

Really?

“Okay, let him up, I guess.”

Great.

“I’m back.”

Joey struggled with what to say next. “Um, I’m knocked off my feet. So Louise Robinson is mixed up in this from all sides.”

“I’m not saying she knew about Terrence and Masey. But I think her feelings for Brent have clouded her judgment. When I pressed her about it, that’s when she threw me out.”

“She didn’t put her hands on you, did she?”

“No. She just yelled for me to leave. I think she’s scared.”

“Speaking of the Harvey kid,” he said, “don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from Bartlett and Fawcett. There’s so much heat coming down on them right now over those boys, you’re the last person, I’m sure, they want to talk to. Especially about anything to do with other potential suspects.”

I could feel my temperature rising with my frustration. “Why are they so hell-bent on keeping those kids locked up? I don’t understand, Joey. We can’t let those boys take the fall.”

“I’ve gotta get an address on these guys,’’ he said. “The most recent one I could find on Bankhead was in Pill Hill. He was living with some woman there.”

Pill Hill was once an affluent Black neighborhood that earned its name from the proliferation of Black doctors who made their homes there in the 1970s.

Knock-knock-knock.

Damn it, I don’t have time for this.

“Just a minute!” I yelled.

“You got company?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, a friend stopped by unannounced,” I said. Then it dawned on me that I’d been doing that to people all day, so this was karma coming back to bite me.

“I’m going back to work tomorrow,” I said. “Joey, I can’t let this go. I know too much. There’s one more thing.”

“Do I need a drink first?” he asked.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” I said. “Brent was molesting his sister.”

“Where are you getting that from?”

“Yvonne. It’s a long story, but it’s true. She had no reason to make it up. Too much detail for it not to be credible.”

Joey let out a long, sorrowful moan.