Deadly Satisfaction (12 page)

“Like I said, she's capable, for sure. But I don't think she'll do anything because she knows the authorities will be keeping a very close eye on her.”

“I guess you're right, but there's only so much the police can do.”

“True. But if what you're saying has merit, which I believe it does, you need to talk to someone you can trust who's in a position to represent you if you need legal counsel and protection for coming forward with new evidence.”

Geneva thought for a moment. “You're right, and I know just the person. Councilwoman Harris. She's a licensed attorney, she's well-respected in the police department, and I can trust her completely.”

“I hadn't even thought about her, but you're right.”

Geneva and Donetta talked for a few more minutes before hanging up the phone. Geneva felt a small sense of relief knowing that she could go to Charlene Harris for advice. Not only was she qualified to help, she was a friend. Geneva decided that she'd wait until after Thanksgiving to give Charlene a call.

C
HARLENE

C
harlene woke up in a fog. If she thought her head had been hurting when she'd gone to bed in the wee hours of the morning, it was even worse now. Her temples throbbed so badly that she had to squint just to open her eyes. She was also nauseated, and her mouth was so dry that her lips were cracked. “I've got to pull myself together,” she said as she looked at the alarm clock beside her bed and realized it was after ten in the morning. “Oh no, I'm going to be late picking up Lauren.”

Lauren's flight was scheduled to arrive at ten thirty, and Charlene had told her daughter that she'd be standing at the baggage claim waiting to get her. Slowly, she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She was tired, but she knew she needed to get up. Charlene knew that by the time she got dressed and on the road, she'd be an hour late. As it was, Lauren's flight would be arriving in the next fifteen minutes. “I need to ask Phillip to pick his sister up because he can get going quicker than I can.”

When Charlene put her feet on the floor and stood, she felt as though she'd just stepped onto a carousel. She remained in place for a few moments until she could gather her bearings, and then she reached for her silk robe and tied it tightly around her waist. She walked down the hallway that led toward the front of the house where the staircase was, and called out for Phillip. That was a bad idea because it made her head ring like a bell.

Charlene went back into her bedroom and picked up her phone from her bedside table and found a text message from Phillip that he'd sent a half hour ago.

Charlene smiled and remembered that Phillip had told her he would pick up his sister. “I can always count on that boy.” As she walked out to the kitchen, a thought came to her. She wondered whether Phillip had come home at all last night. When she'd gone to bed shortly after one o'clock this morning, he hadn't been home. She'd also awakened a few hours later at four, with an intense need to release the wine she'd drunk. Her throat had also been parched, so after a trip to the bathroom, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She'd looked out the window and seen that Phillip's rental car wasn't there.

Now Charlene was almost certain that whomever Phillip had been out with last night, he'd likely stayed with them and had never returned home. Charlene shook her head. “Lord, please slow him down because he's moving too fast with all these women,” she said aloud. She knew Phillip was a grown man with a life of his own, and that he could do as he pleased. But he was also still her child, and she knew it was her job to protect him until she took her last breath.

Ever since Phillip had been a little boy, she'd guided him and had given him sound advice, and she had no intention of stopping now. He needed help before his casual love 'em and leave 'em lifestyle landed him in more trouble than he could handle. Johnny Mayfield was a prime example of what could happen if a man continued to pursue the wrong women, and although Phillip was far from the conniving scoundrel that Johnny had been, Charlene knew that one bad move with the wrong woman could land her son six feet under. As she thought about Phillip, her mind took her to her own set of troubles that had started yesterday.

Charlene walked to the kitchen, pushed the Power button on her Keurig, and pulled her favorite coffee mug from the cabinet. She reached for the TV remote so she could watch the last of the morning news on the small flat-screen television mounted under the cabinet. She turned the channel to MSNBC and was busy gathering cream and sugar when she heard an announcement that froze her in her tracks. “Up next, an exclusive interview with Leslie Sachs, the woman who wants to set a convicted killer free,” the serious-looking commentator said.

Charlene's mouth fell open and her hands began to shake. She'd known yesterday that Leslie and Vivana's claim of new evidence was going to garner a lot of interest, but she hadn't anticipated it would make national news so quickly. But then again, Johnny's murder had made national news two years ago. The fallout over his blackmail scheme involving several women, combined with the fact that there were a half-dozen prime suspects, had made the big murder in the small town worthy of national attention. That was also how Shartell Brown had been elevated from a busybody town gossip into a respected columnist for one of the nation's top entertainment news websites. She'd provided weekly updates and inside information to curious minds who had wanted to be in the know. Shartell had delivered and was still doing so to this day.

Charlene could barely sip her coffee as her heart raced with each commercial. Finally, the reporter was back on screen, announcing her live interview. This time Leslie was alone, sitting at her desk. Charlene could tell that the interview was being conducted in Leslie's home because there were beautiful drapes in vibrant colors hanging against the wall, just under the ceiling's crown molding, and she could see houses on the street through the window behind the chair where Leslie was sitting. Charlene also noticed that Leslie had clearly paid a visit to her salon and the makeup counter at the local department store since yesterday because her blond hair was perfectly coiffed, cascading to her slim shoulders, and her face glowed flawlessly under the bright camera lights. Charlene turned the volume up high so she could hear every word that was being said.

“Ms. Sachs,” the reporter began. “You're representing Vivana Jackson, who was convicted two years ago for the murder of Jonathan Mayfield, pro bono, and you announced yesterday that you have new evidence that proves Ms. Jackson's innocence. Can you tell us how you became involved with this case?”

Leslie looked into the camera with her steely ice-blue eyes. “First, I'd like to address what you said leading into this interview. I'm not trying to set a convicted killer free, I'm working to exonerate an innocent woman who was wrongly accused of a vicious crime that she didn't commit.”

Charlene had to admire Leslie's grit and tactics, and she had to admit that if she was ever wrongly accused of anything, Leslie would be the first person she'd contact—and that was the very reason why Charlene was worried out of her mind. She listened as Leslie continued.

“Now, to answer your question. As a criminal defense attorney for over thirty years, I receive requests every day from individuals who claim they've been wrongly convicted of a crime. But when I read Vivana Jackson's letter, two things stood out for me. One was that it was a case I'd followed closely because it happened here in Amber, Alabama, where I live. And the other reason was that her impassioned plea led me to pay her a face-to-face visit, and when I did, I discovered a detail during our conversation that had been overlooked during the trial.”

Charlene's heart was thumping so hard she could barely breathe.

“As you know, Ms. Sachs, the Mayfield case received national attention, and the overwhelming majority of citizens as well as legal professionals who followed the trial were convinced by the evidence and the testimony that the prosecution proved beyond a shadow of a doubt the right person was convicted. What specific evidence do you have to dispute that?”

Leslie paused for a brief moment, leaned forward, and gave a hint of a smile. Just when she was about to open her mouth, she paused again and looked to her right, as if she was distracted by something. But Charlene knew that Leslie wasn't distracted; what she'd just done was intentional. Leslie was building up suspense to whatever she was going to say next, knowing that the real killer could possibly be in front of a television watching her right now, hanging on her every word in a complete state of fear and panic, just as Charlene was doing at this very moment. “Damn her!” Charlene said.

Finally, Leslie spoke. “After my conversation with Ms. Jackson, I went back over the sworn statements, testimony, and interviews of every person associated with the case. Then I went over all the evidence found at the crime scene, and matched it up to something that Ms. Jackson had told me. That's when I discovered a small, but crucial missing link that proves Ms. Jackson's innocence.”

“What's the missing link?”

“I'm not at liberty to give the full details at this time, but I'll be submitting it to a judge in the coming week.”

“Is your proof indisputable?”

“Anything can be challenged, whether it warrants merit or not. But I believe what I've uncovered is definitive proof that my client did not murder Johnny Mayfield.”

“So you're certain that the evidence you found will clear your client of this crime?”

“I don't take cases unless I'm completely confident of my client's innocence, and that I can prove it. So yes, I'm certain that after I do my job, Vivana Jackson will once again be a free woman. At which time I'll make sure the real killer is convicted, as they should've been from the beginning.”

“There you have it,” the reporter said, looking into the camera. “I guess we'll all have to wait and see what develops. Be sure to stay tuned to MSNBC for follow-up developments on this breaking story.”

Charlene turned off the TV and sat in silence. Her head was no longer pounding, her mouth was no longer dry, and her stomach felt settled. But what had replaced her hangover symptoms was a dull numbness that ran through her entire body. Even though her heart was still beating fast, she could barely move because her mind had her stuck on the last words Leslie had said. After she made sure Vivana was exonerated, she was going to make sure the real killer was convicted. Charlene knew that if Leslie said she was going to do something, you could consider it a done deal.

Charlene's heart sank when she thought about what would happen if the truth came out. Phillip and Lauren would be devastated, her good name would be ruined, and she would surely spend the remainder of her days in prison. She'd known during the time that she'd been planning Johnny's murder that one day she'd have to pay for her sins, which she thought would be the Day of Judgment, at which time she'd answer only to God. She'd planned Johnny's murder so well that she didn't think there was any possibility of her getting caught. Then her mind immediately went back to the cryptic message she'd received a few months after Johnny's murder. There was someone out there who knew that Charlene was the real killer. Whoever that person was, combined with Leslie “the Pit Bull” Sachs, was going to make sure Charlene paid for what she'd done.

After Charlene had received the text, she'd spent months worrying about it. She'd tried to think of any possible slips she could have made the night she'd killed Johnny, but she couldn't think of one. She'd planned everything to the tiniest detail, even figuring into the equation what she would do if by chance someone came forward who could identify her as the woman whom Vivana had alleged she'd had an altercation with at the apartment building. But Charlene quickly dismissed that possibility for a number of reasons. For one, not a single resident living in the building who'd been questioned had been able to corroborate Vivana's story. Luckily for Charlene, she'd been with Johnny during a time of day when most people had been at work.

Another thing that had been in Charlene's favor was that the small building had been located in a quiet area that was spread out and not easily accessible. During the week that she'd planned Johnny's murder, Charlene had covered her tracks by returning to the apartment building late one night to search for security cameras at the building, and in the nearby area, that could place her at the scene that day. To her relief, there hadn't been any. Then Charlene thought about how she'd spent painstaking time and effort into framing Vivana with the murder weapon.

She'd reached back to her days of practicing law and had come up with a list of people and places where she could get her hands on a gun that couldn't be traced. She'd driven to a town two hours away that was known for criminal activity, and used a burner phone to call her contact. She'd met with him late at night and had parked her car a mile away from the area where they'd agreed to meet. With cash in one pocket and a Taser in another, Charlene set out on foot to purchase the weapon to kill Johnny. She'd even worn a wig that was a dead ringer for Vivana's weave, and had padded herself under her ex-husband's large trench coat, to give her body the girth Vivana was known for. Even though, in theory, the steps Charlene had taken to buy the gun had been dangerous, it had turned out to be quite easy in practice. She'd known that the real trick would be making sure Vivana stayed put in her house the night of the murder so she wouldn't have an alibi.

It had been mid-fall, and daylight hours had been short, which served to help Charlene put her plan into motion. She'd parked her car a good distance from Vivana's neighborhood, and had walked in the dark behind each house on the neatly lined block until she'd reached Vivana's. Charlene quickly ran up to Vivana's doorstep and placed a small, colorful bag stuffed with tissue paper there before ringing the bell and making a mad dash to the bushes on the side of the house. She'd crouched her body to the ground and prayed with all her might that Vivana was at home; otherwise, she'd have to wait for another time to kill Johnny.

It had taken Vivana a few minutes to open the door, and when she did, she spotted the colorful bag and immediately looked around to see who'd left it. Charlene watched in the darkness as Vivana stood on her porch, under the light, and cautiously peered inside the bag. She pulled out the note, read it, and smiled wide with delight. Charlene had wanted to jump for joy, and when Vivana then pulled out the cupcake inside and took a big bite out of it, Charlene had actually pumped her fist up and down.