Land of Shadows (10 page)

I handed them a printed screenshot of the suicide note found on their daughter's phone. “Does this seem like something your daughter would write?”

Both parents read in silence. Angie shook her head, then grabbed matches from the coffee table. With shaky hands, she stuck a cigarette between her quivering lips and finally lit up.

Cyrus frowned. “I'm confused. You said she was strangled. Why would she write this?”

“I don't think she did,” I said. “I think someone else wrote it so that we'd all
think
she committed suicide.”

Cyrus hugged the chair cushion to his chest. “I don't understand. Who would do something…?”

“Mr. Darson,” Colin said, “do you have a good relationship with your daughter?”

Cyrus lifted his chin. “Absolutely. We're very close. I do everything for my girls.”

“The Lexus,” Colin continued. “Did you purchase that car for her?”

Angie frowned. “Do we look like people who can buy a child a Lexus?”

“Someone here drives a Maserati,” I said, thumbing to the driveway. “And a Prius is not a Yugo.”

Angie's lips tightened. “We didn't buy the car.”

“I believe Von and Monie bought it together,” Cyrus said. “V-O-N Neeley.”

“And Von is her boyfriend?” I asked, scribbling the name into my binder.

“Yeah,” Angie said. “His people got money. They live up in Ladera.”

“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm her?” Colin asked.

“Everybody loves Monie,” Angie whispered. “She's an angel, always doing good by people. Always helping out when she can. Nobody would ever want to hurt her.”

Cyrus shook his head. “Derek would.”

Angie glanced at him, then stared at the burning end of her cigarette.

“Derek Hester,” Cyrus said to me. “He's a friend of hers. A gangbanger.”

“Do you know from which set?” I asked.

“Black P Stones,” Cyrus said.

Colin's writing faltered—he didn't know what the hell he was writing now.

“Were Derek and Monique romantically involved?” I asked.

Cyrus snorted. “Hell no. She was better than that thug. They knew each other from middle school. Well, when Derek
went
to school.”

Colin flipped through his notebook. “Why do you think she went to the condos that—?”

“So do y'all know who did it?”

Macie stood on the stairs, makeup applied and dressed in red shorts and a white tank that sported the Chanel logo. Her long wavy hair, a weave but a damn good one, had been pulled into a ponytail. She stood there, knock-kneed, a life-sized Bratz doll.

“There are no suspects yet,” I told her, then stood from the love seat. “But Macie, I'd like to talk to you outside for a moment.” I turned to Colin. “Can you get the addresses and phone numbers for Derek and Von?”

A flush crept up Colin's throat—he was pissed that I was excluding him.

Boo-hoo.

I needed to know the real deal about Monique Darson, and Macie would never spill it in front of Colin or her parents. And I had a feeling that whatever she was about to tell me would tarnish Baby Girl's halo. But hell—who doesn't have a little scum on her wings?

 

14

Outside, the air smelled of car exhaust and wet grass. It was half past seven in the morning and the neighborhood was now awake. People who had jobs were driving to them, and people with kids were shepherding their little ones to cars and SUVs.

Macie sat on the hood of the Maserati. Her red shorts rode all the way up to there.

I didn't wanna look but those shorts were designed for looking. The “mom” in me wanted to yell, “Put on some damn clothes,” but the cop in me, having seen worse, would say, “Meh, whatareyougonnado, kidsthesedays.”

Macie placed her head into her hands. “I can't believe this,” she was saying. “I can't believe … How did she die?” she asked as she tugged at her hair.

“She was strangled.”

“No, no, no.” Her body went rigid hearing that, but a wave of truth washed over her and knocked down that tightness until she bent forward, almost slipping off the car.

A car horn blew, and Macie peeked from her cocoon to see a Camry carrying little girls with braided hair. They waved at Macie as the driver—decidedly not smiling—sped toward Leimert Boulevard.

Macie forced her lips upward and waved back. “Auntie Jolene and my baby cousins,” she said to me with tears in her eyes. “Monie was supposed to watch them on Tuesday night and … Who's gonna tell them that she…?” She watched the Camry race to the end of the block, then dropped her head back between her knees.

I leaned against the 4Runner's tailgate, pen and pad ready. “Macie, I need to ask you some things that I didn't wanna ask in front of your parents. I'm old, but I haven't forgotten that young women have private lives, and so I need you to speak as freely as you can, okay?”

She sniffled, then said, “Okay.”

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty-three.”

Macie had been born the year I had learned to dissect a baby pig in Honors Biology.

“Do you work?” I asked.

She blinked—
work, as in the verb?—
then blurted, “I'm a tutor.”

I had only known Macie Darson for thirty minutes, but in that short time, I knew that this girl was no Madame Curie. What subject did she tutor? How to Get Over 101? Advanced Methods in How to Get Paid? If so, maybe I would sign up for lessons.

“So Von and Derek,” I said. “Let's stop the bullshit. What's really going on?”

The veil lifted from Macie's face and she gazed past me, checking to see if her parents were standing at the front door. “Monie was datin' both of them. But Mom and Daddy would never believe that their princess was sneakin' around with a banger. Church in the mornin' with Von, freaky-deak in the evenin' with Derek. Ain't nuthin' new,” she said with a flick of her hand and another cautious look at the door.

“The difference between Monie and me,” she continued, “is that I never hide my shit. Monie, though … That girl is a shadow. Von thought he was talkin' to the church girl cuz she was actin' all sweet, but little did he know that she was fuckin' Derek while talkin' on the phone with him.” Her shoulders slumped as any remaining lightness left her body. “Is that what you wanted to know, Detective?”

“For starters? Yes. How old is Derek?”

“About twenty-two. Von just turned nineteen two weeks ago.”

“He like cheerleaders?”

“What man
don't
like cheerleaders?” she asked with a smirk.

“What about Derek? Did she wear her uniform whenever she saw him?”

Macie tilted her head. “Think about it.”

And so I did. “Her uniform has blue in it,” I said, and Macie nodded. A tried-and-true Blood would never fancy anything blue, cute girl or not.

“What type of guy is Von?”

She faked a yawn. “A guy who thinks cheerleading is a sin. A guy who hated that she was the squad captain.”

That
made me pause. How much did Von hate it? Did he detest cheering enough to ask her to wear that uniform on Tuesday night so that he could show her just how much he hated it?

“Did Von know about Derek?” I asked.

“He knew Derek and Monie are friends. Just not how
close
. He figured cuz he has some ends and goes to church that he don't have to worry. Every nigga gotta worry. He's kinda cute in that buttoned-up-music-minister way so he thinks he has a lock on Monie. He don't suspect nothing. And Monie likes that.”

“When did you last see your sister?” I asked.

She squinted at the sky, then slowly shook her head. “I'm not even sure … She was always runnin' behind me. She'd always pop up outta nowhere.”

“Were you home on Tuesday?”

“No. So I must've seen her on Friday cuz me and my boyfriend drove to Pechanga Casino in Temecula. So yeah, I saw her on Friday. But she called me all weekend and then on Monday and Tuesday.”

“Why?”

“Random sister stuff. ‘Can I wear your shirt?' or ‘Do you have so-and-so's number?' Stuff like…” A sob burst from her chest, and then another. Her shoulders shook as she hid her face in her hands and wept. Through her tears, she kept apologizing, kept wiping her face with a tired paper towel until the hurt ebbed. “This is hard,” she said, offering me a weak smile. “I can't believe this is happening.”

“I know. You're doing good. Just a few more questions, okay? Did she mention seeing either Derek or Von this past weekend?”

“Umm…” She inhaled but didn't release, bit her bottom lip to keep it in. She hugged herself, forcing out the air, then said, “She was plannin' to break things off with Derek on Tuesday. She was tired of only hangin' out in BPS territory. Can't go here cuz you'll get shot. Can't go there cuz you'll get shot. She wanted a regular boyfriend like Von but not so …
boring
.”

“So she wanted a yuppie thug,” I confirmed. “Was she scared what Derek's reaction would be when she told him that she wanted out?”

Another cry broke from Macie's chest like a clap of thunder.

The suddenness startled me, and I almost dropped my binder.

“I told her to hold off,” the young woman said between tears and hiccups. “I told her that Derek would probably be in jail before the summer ended, and that she'd have a better chance at breaking up with him then.” She hid her face in her hands and cried, “I miss her so much.”

I patted her back, remembering my mother's hands lost in my hair as I had cried, “I miss her,” and “I'm sorry, Mommy.” I remembered never feeling better afterward, and sometimes, never feeling forgiven.

Macie dried her face with the front of her fancy tank top. “I'm sorry. It's just…”

“You don't have to apologize,” I whispered, staring at the makeup smeared across the Chanel logo. “It's okay. Take your time.”

She exhaled and jiggled her arms, shaking it off. “I gotta be strong for Momma.”

Familiar words.

“What about your dad?” I asked. “He'll need you, too.”

“But he's … weak. Always a little jittery, know what I mean? Momma's the backbone of the family. If she goes down, we all go down. My dad, he's not a man like that.” She clamped her hand over her mouth, then squeezed her lips. “I didn't mean … I shouldn't have said … It's just…” She groaned, then hugged herself. “I love my dad, but my mother…” Her nostrils flared as she fished for the right word. “You know what I mean, right? Please don't tell him what I just said.”

I nodded.

“Ain't strangulation a crime of passion?” she asked. “I saw an episode on
CSI
where this stripper was strangled, and the murderer was her ex-boyfriend.”

“It can be,” I said, “but not always. Do you think that's what happened here? You think Derek killed Monie? Tell me the truth.”

She squinted at me, then lifted her mouth into a stingy smile. “That's a nice ring you wearin'.” She nodded at my princess-cut diamond engagement ring. “What's that? Like three carats?”

I nodded. “Your appraisal skills are impressive.”

She gave me a fake smile. “Your man a true baller or is he just nigga-rich?”

“A true baller.”

“He black?”

“That's the box he checks.”

She gave a side of fake chuckle to go along with the fake smile. “You don't know what it's like,” she said, a sneer forming on her lips. “You ain't from around here.”

“Actually, I grew up on Hillcrest, over in the Jungle. Went to Audubon and Dorsey.”

“So you know,” she said, shaking her head. “You don't snitch and you don't drop dimes on niggas. Especially if that nigga is BPS.”

I leaned closer. “But I'm already looking at Derek for this. All I need from you is an endorsement, a ‘Yeah, that fool is crazy, he coulda strangled my sister cuz he didn't want her to leave him.' That's all.” I offered a conspiratorial smile and whispered, “Derek was on my list—and I'm sure his phone number is in Monique's phone directory. And I'm sure there are pictures of him, too, on that phone. He was a part of her life, Macie, and your family wouldn't be the only source for me to find that out.”

She swiped at her forehead, nervous now, eyes darting up and down the street as though a hooptie filled with twenty Black P Stones toting forty Tec-9s was two houses away.

“Time is passing, Macie,” I said. “Your sister's killer is getting farther and farther away.” And the type on the reports was already degrading.

Finally, the young woman whispered, “Yes. He could've strangled her. Yeah. He coulda killed her.”

“Okay. What about Von?”

“Church boy?” Anxiety lifted enough for Macie to roll her eyes. “That boy goes to confession every time he has a wet dream.”

“Did she say
where
she was going to meet Derek on Tuesday?”

“She said something about going to Kingston's.”

“The Jamaican restaurant over in Ladera Heights?”

She nodded. “She didn't wanna be alone with him. Not that crowds ever stopped Derek from actin' a fool.”

“How do you think she ended up at the condos?”

Macie tried to square her shoulders, but her lips quivered and gave away the show. “I don't know.”

“Tell me about Butter.”

A smile as bright as the sun washed across her face. “Monie takes Butter everywhere. She loves Butter. We all love Butter. She's the sweetest dog in the world.” But the smile dimmed as she closed her swollen eyes. “And now, she's gone, too. Miss Butter was the nicest gift Derek ever gave my sister.”

“I have a more difficult question,” I whispered. “What was your relationship with Monique? Any competition? Any jealousy?”