Chapter 18 A Memory Full of Holes
A MEMORY FULL OF HOLES
Andi liked Tamika’s room. It was cluttered with small knick-knacks—figurines of cats, dogs, and birds—and framed pictures on the walls and dresser of her much younger self with a good-looking man and Rosalie as a baby.
Above her bed were photos of Rosalie holding Tammy as a baby, one of Tammy around eight years old wearing a flower dress and two pigtails, and one of her now, dressed in jeans and a purple T-shirt with yellow dots.
Tammy looked more serious in this picture.
Her smile was not as carefree as it had been as a child.
Tamika herself had once been a formidable woman, as evidenced by the photos, but she looked frail sitting in her armchair wearing a light blue summer dress with sunflowers printed on it.
Her skin was sagging on her face and neck, proof that she had lost too much weight too rapidly for her skin to adjust. She looked at them with only a hint of a spark in her eyes.
The silverfish, mites, spiders, and centipedes in the room told Andi her body chemistry was unbalanced, and the medication she got was not helping much.
The caretaker who had escorted them touched Tamika’s right hand and spoke to her softly.
“Tamika? Mrs. Carter? You have guests. Do you want to talk to them?”
Tamika’s gaze turned to them. For a moment, Andi saw the flash of the seasoned lawyer she once had been, all hard and assessing. She must have been a force of nature.
“Detectives.” Just one word, spoken with conviction.
“Ah, yes, Tamika. Very good. They are Detectives George Donovan and Andrew Hayes. They have some questions for you.”
George stepped forward. “Hello, Mrs. Carter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, which Tamika just stared at for a moment before taking it.
Andi held his hand out next. She took it while her eyes bore into him. “Hello, Mrs. Carter.”
“Sometimes it’s Byrnes. You can call me Tamika.” Silence.
The caretaker took a step backward to give them more room. “Is it okay if I leave the room, Tamika? Or do you want me to stay?”
Tamika’s gaze didn’t waver from Andi. She still held his hand. “You can go.”
As soon as the door closed, Tamika let go of Andi’s hand. “Black and White. Interesting.”
George stared at Andi for a moment, asking him how to proceed.
Since Andi didn’t have a clue, he shrugged.
He hated leaving George hanging, but all he got from the arthropods was that Tamika was seriously ill, which they already knew.
He doubted he would be able to tell whether she was lying or omitting the truth.
To do so, a person had to be aware of what the truth was, and he didn’t think Tamika was still present enough to grasp such nuances.
“Uh, yes. We’re partners.” George tried his best to stay on the topic she had introduced.
“Partners.” Tamika snorted. “He tellin’ you what to do? They tell you to work with him if you want to keep your career? It’s what they do. Now you talk to me because you’ve got the same color of skin?”
Another almost panicked glance from George. His partner wasn’t used to older women not falling for his charm. Andi hesitated for a moment and then decided to just risk it.
“No, he’s talking because I hate people.”
Tamika’s gaze lasered in on him. “You hate Blacks? You admit it? In front of a lawyer?”
So she was aware of what she had once been.
“No. I hate all people. I admit that. They breathe.”
For a long moment, nobody said anything. George was staring at him, no doubt wondering what had gotten into Andi. Then, Tamika started laughing. It was a short, amused chuckle before she zeroed in on him again.
“So you like the Blacks?”
To hell with it. She probably won’t be able to remember anyway. Andi angled his body sideways and pressed a soft kiss to George’s lips. His partner gasped in surprise. This was highly unorthodox even for Andi. He turned back to Tamika. She had her head cocked to the side.
“They know this?” She gestured between them. It was not entirely clear who she meant by ‘they,’ but Andi assumed it had to be their bosses.
“Our chief doesn’t care. She’s too busy working on her career.” It wasn’t entirely true since he was pretty sure Chief Norris would have cared a great deal if things were different.
“Female chief. Black partner. Homosexuals.” Tamika sighed. “I miss so much. Stupid head.” She bashed the side of her head with her palm. “What do you want?”
Since Andi had taken the helm of this conversation, George let him have at it. “We have a few questions for you.”
“I gathered as much.”
The dry humor in that statement had Andi chuckling, which made Tamika grin. “Did you know Jagger Thomasin?”
“Did I? Is that no-good piece of shit dead?” The aggressive tone almost made Andi flinch. He had read somewhere that people suffering from Alzheimer’s sometimes could have violent episodes.
“Yes. He died almost three weeks ago. Didn’t your daughter tell you? Or perhaps Tammy?”
Tamika shook her head as if she’d gotten wet.
“My daughter rarely comes here. Tammy is a good girl. Perhaps she’s told me.
I forget a lot.” She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Andi knew immediately that their meeting was over.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?” Her voice was getting shriller with every word.
Andi and George backed away toward the door. “We’re so sorry, Mrs. Carter. Please excuse us.”
As soon as they were through the door, the caretaker who had been waiting a few feet away went to Tamika.
She nodded at them shortly before she tried to calm down the agitated woman.
Andi and George stayed for a moment longer, making sure the caretaker didn’t need them before they left the building.
“That wasn’t as helpful as we’d hoped.” George started the engine.
“No. Though we do have the list of things Suzie stole. Perhaps there’s a name that stands out. And let’s ask Shireen if she has something about Tamika’s husband.”
“You mean there might be answers in the past?” George threaded into traffic.
“As always.” Andi stared outside. “There has to be a connection between all the victims. Suzie, Isabelle, and Jagger all have an association with Paradise Home, even if it’s around a few corners and so far-fetched it can hardly be counted as real.
Judge Dunhill and Trevor are the only ones we can’t tie to it. ”
“What if they’re the focal point?” George was drumming “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on the steering wheel. Andi was proud that he was getting better at recognizing his man’s favorite rhythms.
“Could be. But then what’s the connection?
The judge and his buddy were racist, so it makes some sense for Jagger to maybe connect back to them.
Suzie and Isabelle were as Caucasian as you can get.
I can’t imagine them in a situation where they had anything to do with the judge.
Especially since he’s not even from South Carolina. ”
“Well, they are at least connected through the way they died. Which leaves the question how does the killer decide who to end?”
“I can safely say it has nothing to do with ethnicity, social standing, or bodily features. The impression I got was that these people have been—mean.”
George sighed. “Judge Dunhill, Trevor, and Jagger definitely fit that description. I can’t picture them as pleasant human beings. But Suzie and Isabelle? Okay, Suzie was a thief, but women are generally more polite than men, and Director Delaine said she was well-liked.”
Andi leaned his head back. “I hate this case. And now we have to talk to Savalle and DeCapristo and share our meager findings.” He waved the folder George had given him when they had entered the car.
“Perhaps it would be a good idea to take pictures of the pages and send them to Shireen? Before Agent DeCapristo gets her hands on it?”
Andi grinned. “I love how your mind works, partner.”
Talking to the agent and the chief was about as fun as getting a root canal.
Andi knew on an intellectual level that his preconceived mindset didn’t help.
He also knew it was more than justified and backed by experience.
After the disastrous start to their working relationship, George did his best to maintain at least the illusion of peace, though DeCapristo and Savalle didn’t make it easy for him.
“You’re telling us these cases are somehow linked, but you have no tangible proof for it. Just your ‘gut instinct’.” Chief Savalle sounded so condescending, it made Andi’s tongue itch to tell him exactly what was on his mind. Only years of keeping his geschenk a secret kept him from lashing out.
“Chief, as you obviously haven’t the clearance to know any details about how we work, you have to accept the term ‘gut instinct,’” George had no problem whatsoever to infuse the two words with as much sarcasm as he had in his reservoirs, which started a nervous tick in Savalle’s left lid, “as a substitute for the things you are not entitled to know.”
Savalle threw DeCapristo a scalding look, but for once she didn’t attack.
Instead, she shrugged. “This is probably the only time we can both agree on something. It’s hogwash.
But as my boss has explained to me so eloquently, these two are the best we’re going to get, so I’m afraid we have to suck it up.
” She stared at Andi and George with an expression of pure contempt.
“I’m almost sure your boss chose different words,” George protested mildly.
Despite the tension in the air, he was enjoying this drama to some extent.
It was what his mother had raised him for, and his man thrived in the face of adversity.
Which was, no doubt, one of the reasons he hadn’t been deterred by Andi when their partnership had started.
Giving up was not part of George Donovan’s vocabulary, nor was it in his DNA.