With His Dying Breath (15 page)

             
“A psychiatrist?”

             
“Yes. She came out in tears, I mean sobbing. She couldn’t really talk, much less see to drive, so I drove her home. That’s why I’ve got her car.” Jenny looked outside to see the white Camaro.

             
“She’s going to have to be out for a while. She’s got to get herself together.”

             
“All because of Mr. Brockton’s death?” JJ asked.

             
“I think mostly. I think she now knows he will never ever love her. And she’s been clinging to that hope since she was fifteen years old.”

             
“Fifteen?”              JJ turned to the window as a car horn sounded.

             
“Yes, that was when they were first caught together. I told you a little about it the other day, didn’t I? It might’ve even started before then.” Mrs. Young looked out the window. “Somebody’s car alarm is going off.”

             
“Yes ma’am. I know it’s not mine. You just said she was in high school.”

             
“Well, she was only fifteen. Busted up his first marriage.”

             
“The one before Sammi?”

             
“No, hon. Sammi is about his fourth or fifth wife. Finally, glad they turned it off.”

             
“What?” JJ was not interested in the car alarm.

             
“Yes, very few people know that. He was quite the rounder back twenty, twenty-five years ago”

             
“I never knew that. Wonder if my dad knows?”

             
“I would think so. But you’re dad’s not gonna spread gossip or talk about it. One is that he’s a man and men don’t get involved in such talk and two your dad is very decent and believes people can change.” JJ smiled.

             
Evelyn continued, “He might have even changed when Sammi came along. They seemed perfect to start with. He even quit Jenny as a manicurist for about a year maybe a little longer. Then one day, some months ago, he was back. I don’t know what happened.”

JJ sat mesmerized listening to this soap opera. “Maybe he loved Jenny, too.
I just don’t know, but they couldn’t keep away from one another. I kept thinking if Jenny would have a baby, you know start a family, things would be very different for her and Jess.”

             
“Why didn’t she? She didn’t want kids?”

             
“Oh no. She longed for a child. Every month when her time came around, you know what I mean?”

JJ shook her head yes.

Evelyn continued, “Every month, she would cry and cry.”

             
“Oh, that’s pretty sad for somebody to want kids and can’t have them.”

             
“Well, what she told me today blew my socks off,” she said, laughing. “See, I’m not wearing any.”

JJ laughed.

              “Now, honey, please use this information discriminately, okay?”

             
“Yes ma’am. Okay.”

             
“Jenny told me that she has a child. She and Blake have a child together. The child, and she doesn’t know if it’s a boy or girl, would be seventeen now. She never wanted to know who adopted her or him.”

             
“I’m seventeen, Mrs. Young. Is she, or he, here in town?”

             
“That part I don’t know. Jenny then proceeded to tell me that she had an abortion, two years later. Blake was married at the time. That’s what’s haunting her now!”

             
“And now she can’t have children.”

             
“The general talk is that Jess can’t have kids. First, they didn’t want any because he had his baseball career.”

JJ sat
spellbound at the story.

             
“She hasn’t seen a doctor but she imagines the abortionist did something you know cut her some way to prevent pregnancy. Jess doesn’t know about it. She said the guilt is killing her.”

             
“Oh, so sad. Is she going to tell him?”

             
“No, I don’t think so. She told me today. She and Jess are heading toward divorce. Promise me, JJ. I don’t want this to get around and really put her over the edge.”

             
“Oh no, Mrs. Young, my lips are sealed. But now I understand her a little better. But why does everyone think Jess can’t have children.”

             
“The accident with Blake really messed him up.”

             
“Accident. A car wreck?” JJ tossed her soda can in the recycle box.

             
“Yeah, a really bad accident! Blake was laid up for months. Jess, I guess for close to a year took forever to heal. I forget since he was back and forth to Atlanta hospitals so much. Jenny almost lost it then, too. She and I worked together when she first got out of school. Jess broke his back. Doctors weren’t sure he would walk again but he finally recovered. He learned to walk but couldn’t play ball anymore. Wasn’t as agile. Even after learning to walk again, it was a while before he could really get around. Finally, he went back to school and became a therapist. Blake recovered from two broken legs, but he still limps. Or limped. It’s hard to think about him in past tense. Haven’t you noticed Blake’s limp?”

             
“Yes ma’am, I’d noticed just never really thought anything about it. Whose fault was it? In the accident?”

             
“That’s the bad part. It was Blake’s. He was talking on the cell phone and a dump truck in front of the car in front of Blake…”

             
“A dump truck, you mean, like a garbage truck?”

             
“It may have been a garbage truck, anyway, somebody stopped suddenly, I forget why. Blake rammed the car in front of him and the car in back rammed him. He could have avoided it, more than likely, but he wasn’t paying attention. That’s what came out when the insurance company got involved and all. He wasn’t charged with negligence just following too close for conditions. But, because he was so influential at the time, he got off lightly even though a lady was killed in the car in front of him. You know her sister, Mrs. Christian. I forgot the dead woman’s name, but Joan is the sister. That wasn’t her name then. I forget now but it wasn’t Christian. She worked for a psychiatrist over off oh, I forget that, too.”

             
“Dr. Christian? My school counselor?”

             
“Yes,” Evelyn said, somewhat puzzled at JJ’s surprise.

             
“So that’s why they hated each other.”

             
Evelyn asked, “Hate each other?”

             
“Yes she and Mr. Brockton had lots of run-ins. I’ve seen her crying several times after he left her office, and I’ve wondered why he was in there so much. She’s only there part-time, two to three days a week and he was there at least once a week. They just seemed to be mad all the time. He was hateful to her.”

             
“There was a lot of hate that resulted more than likely. Took a long time for the towns people to stop talking about it. It was bad when it all happened. I forget now why Jess was in the car with him or where they were going. I guess you don’t remember Blake at the high school; you would’ve been in elementary school probably. Anyway, he started giving talks to kids about talking on their cell phones and driving. It wasn’t as prevalent as the news makes it out to be now. But it was getting that way. All the seniors and juniors had cell phones, at least my kids and their friends did. He was ordered to do it as community service, but he continued to do it long after his required hours were up. I was glad though whatever the reason. Probably kept my kids safe.”

             
“When was that?”

             
“When was what?

             
“The accident.”             

             
Evelyn leaned forward, removed her left shoe and rubbed her foot. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this foot. It really hurts. Oh, I guess, uh, back about eight or nine maybe ten years ago. No, wait! I’ll tell you exactly when it was. It was the day after the nine eleven attacks, you know in New York and the Pentagon.”

             
“That’s eleven years ago?” JJ stood.

             
“Yes, in 2001, why? Where you going?”

             
“Mrs. Young, I’m sorry but if we’re through, I really need to go. I need to talk to dad about something.”

             
“Yes, we’re done here. But tomorrow I want to know what quickened your memory! Oh, no, we’re closing at noon tomorrow.”

             
“OK,” JJ laughed, “Want me to come in and clean up.”

             
“You’re not going to the funeral?”

             
“Oh, that’s right. I think the funeral’s at two.”

             
“No, shouldn’t be but just a few clients. No need to come in for that.”

             
“Thank you so much. I’ll work extra hard Wednesday.”

             
“You always do, dear,” Evelyn said.

             
“Bye, Mrs. Young.”             

             
“Bye, honey. Now remember, not a word.”

             
“Yes ma’am.”

             
JJ ran to her car just as the shopping center parking lot lights came on.

             
She didn’t need to call her dad. He, Wilson Lopez and Sammi were at the real estate office digging through file cabinets, desk drawers, and the safe looking for that thick, black file folder!

“Mrs. Brockton, hi, I’m so glad to see you.” JJ hugged her
as if she hadn’t seen her in years.

             
“JJ, I’ve told you to call me Sammi. Please, especially now, I’m not Mrs. Brockton anymore.”

             
JJ looked puzzled but joined in the search.

Cain said to the group
, “Well, I don’t think it’s here. It’s a thick file at least two maybe three inches. We’ve searched everywhere in this place. It wouldn’t be easy to hide.”

             
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something. When are you gonna be home?”

             
“I guess I’m going down to the jail. I wanna find out why my folder was worth all the charade. You wanna ride down there with me?”

             
“Sure.”

             
“Sammi, could I come see you tomorrow?” JJ asked.

             
“Of course, I’d like that. You know the funeral is tomorrow. Call me on my cell, and she wrote the number on a piece of paper and handed it to JJ.”

             
“OK, Dad and I’ll be at the funeral. I don’t have to work. Mrs. Young’s closing at noon.” OK?

             
“Sounds great, JJ. I’m sure I’ll need some company.”

* * *

Cain and JJ waited at the precinct for three hours never getting to question the rose tattoo woman. JJ told him a little about the conversation with Mrs. Young, about the accident.

             
“Dad, I need to see that comic strip again. In one frame, remember there was the 911 number. It didn’t mean anything at the time but maybe it does now.” She gave him a small explanation for the request.

             
“Well, let me look at it tomorrow. Come on let’s go. We’ve waited here long enough and I’m exhausted. Let’s go pick up your car.”

             
He dialed his City Editor and left him a message that he needed help with the missing file and a brief summary of the rose tattoo lady.

Tuesday, March 20

             
Cops executed a search warrant for the home of the rose tattoo lady at 7:00 a.m. The thick black file folder lay opened on a small kitchen table. Its contents were in several stacks on the table with an assortment of newspaper clippings about the Brockton murder and the BelRon fire. A manila colored folder with miscellaneous newspaper clippings was open beside it. Several small clippings caught the cop’s eye. One photo captioned ‘Samantha Solomon, junior, chosen Homecoming Queen over two senior girls.’ Another showed her college graduation as magna cum laude, several other photos in beauty contests, piano recitals, and community activities.

             
“Samantha Solomon? Is that Samantha Brockton?” a policeman asked.

“Looks like
her to me. She’s a beauty!”

             
Cain waited on the front stoop while the uniformed officers went through the house. In less than five minutes, they asked him to come in to identify the folder.

             
“That’s it. Hold on while I see if it’s all there.” Cain proceeded to stack the loose papers and estimated the thickness. “It appears to all be here, thank goodness. And thank you guys.”

             
“Here to serve,” one cop said.

             
“Who lives here anyway?” Cain asked. He had not been told the name of the rose tattoo lady.

             
“The name on the warrant is Cretia Brown. Said she’s a tenant. The homeowner is Jonas Attaway.”

             
“Jonas Attaway? Hey guys don’t touch anything else,” Cain said as he called Hilda to get another warrant and her crime scene crew to the house.

* * *

              JJ grabbed an early lunch in the high school cafeteria and met up with her best friend, Sara. “You going to the funeral today?” she asked JJ.

             
“Yeah, I’m going with dad. Sammi needs the support. So much has happened to her in the last week. I just want her to know she can count on us. Wanna go with us?”

Sara
didn’t really know the Brocktons, so she said no. JJ changed the subject and told her about Chip and their dates, helping her dad with clues about the murder, explaining the reason she had to cancel out Sunday afternoon. She deliberately omitted the confidential part. Sara would push to know more.

Their girl talk continued incessantly catching up on their teenage lives.
JJ took a sip of her juice and happened to catch the assistant principal and Mr. Grumman in a battle of words. She couldn’t understand what they were saying but noticed other heads turning to see the big dispute over in the teachers’ section.

             
Mr. Grumman glanced toward JJ and just seemed to stare, then stormed out of the room. Dr. Early just sat back down and finished his lunch unscathed by whatever had happened. JJ observed Dr. Christian walk up to Dr. Early in a huff. Now what? Dr. Early saw the counselor storm over and stood and walked out, leaving his tray on the table before Dr. Christian could speak.

             
She and Sara watched the drama unfold as Dr. Christian picked up a roll off his plate and threw it toward the door. “They’re acting like kids,” Sara said. Everyone in the cafeteria cheered! “Can’t wait to find out what happened, huh, JJ!”

             
“Well, I’ve gotta get to the funeral, you find out and let me know. Go by Mr. Grumman’s classroom and see what he’s doing. Send me a text, okay?”

             
JJ took her tray to the conveyor belt waved to several friends at another table and left the cafeteria. She grabbed some books and her purse out of her locker and headed for the parking lot. To her surprise, Mr. Grumman was sitting in his car next to hers.

             
“Mr. Grumman, you okay?”

             
“I guess you saw what was going on, huh?”

             
“I saw you and Dr. Early in a disagreement, but did you see Dr. Christian throw that bread roll at him?”

             
He laughed, “Why didn’t I think of that? I wish I’d stuffed it down his throat!”

             
JJ laughed, “Mr. Grumman, I’ve never heard you talk like that! I’d love to know what it was all about but I’ve got to meet my dad for the funeral. Are you going?” She wished she had more time to find out what happened.

             
“No, I didn’t know him that well. Are you?”

             
“Yeah, my dad signed an excuse for me to go. Sammi, Mrs. Brockton, is so nice to me, I feel so sorry for her. You know that she has to deal with all of this. Well, see you later, tomorrow. Sorry I’ll miss your class. Hope you’re not giving a test!” She started her car and once again, he could not take his eyes off her as she disappeared out of sight.

             
He cancelled plans for a pop test.

* * *

              “What did he say he was doing?” Hilda asked the rookie cop that caught the guy lurking around her house.

             
“Said his dog got out of the backyard and he was looking for it. Said he lived across the street from you two houses down.”

             
“That’s why he looked familiar! About his dog, wasn’t a basset hound, was it?” She said jokingly.

             
“No, I don’t think he said. He’s still down there if you want to talk to him.”

             
“No. Just verify everything he’s telling you, you know, check his address and check out his story. Ask him who his vet is and call the vet. See if anybody knows him, okay? Find out where he works, just as much as you can. Just want to make sure. I’ll apologize later.”

             
“Sure, detective. I’ll let you know.”

             
“Thanks, I’ll be at Blake Brockton’s funeral, but if you get anything, let me know.”

             
“Okay.”

             
Hilda needed to put her focus back on the Brockton murder case. I don’t have the time to deal with a peeping tom and we’ll see what this rookie’s got in him.

***

              At two o’clock, more than a thousand local residents and dignitaries gathered for the funeral of Blake Brockton. It was standing room only in the sanctuary of the Church of River Town, Georgia. Mourners who could not get in the sanctuary viewed the service on closed circuit television monitors in the fellowship halls. A graduate of Mercer a beneficiary of Blake’s personal scholarship funding provided a moving rendition of “The Lord’s Prayer.” She barely made it through the song before tearfully breaking down. A renowned minister of national acclaim provided the eulogy. Pastors of two local churches of different denominations delivered scriptures and prayers.

             
Mourners included JJ and Cain Matthews, the real estate employees, Dr. Christian and her husband Everett and Blake’s sisters. Dr. Early and Patsy, Anne and Austin, Evelyn and Charlie and Jenny sat together. Jess sat on the back row next to a stranger.               Special guests sitting in a roped section included Georgia’s two U.S. Senators and three area Representatives, the Governor himself with other State officials, city and county officials throughout the State and Samantha, Mitch, Wilson and Maria. High school employees, students and neighbors. Numerous reporters waited outside.

             
Jonas Attaway was among the mourners just not recognized as such. A host of curious onlookers included two ex-wives. Sammi recognized one from old photos she found in Blake’s office. The two women nodded but neither spoke.

             
Teenage sons of his business partners served as pallbearers. Outward appearance showed no detail went unnoticed for the funeral service of the county’s wealthiest man.

             
The closed graveside service was restricted to friends and a few invitees from his businesses. Bill Fritz, Blake’s business associate and primary personal assistant, planned the lavish church service but Sammi insisted on a closed, simple service for his burial.               As she looked around to her true friends, she saw seven people.

Her own pastor who shepherded a small church near her aunt’s nursing home read the
twenty-third Psalm and prayed for comfort for her and these friends in the days ahead. The graveside service was exactly opposite of the garish affair Blake’s associate had arranged except for the beautiful flowers.

             
Detectives Marabell and Nelson watched the proceedings from a car around a bend and discussed the morning activities in the home owned by Jonas Attaway.

             
“You know, Jasper,” Hilda started. “Jonas Attaway does not exist but someone is going to the extreme to convince us he does.”

             
“I know you’re right about that. What are you thinking?”

             
“I’m thinking we need to get down to the courthouse and find that deed, see who he bought from and when. That’s the first thing.”

             
“And the second?” Jasper watched squirrels chasing each other through the trees.

             
“Next, we need to check all the utility companies, see who’s paying the bills, how they’re paid, checking account numbers; you know               all that paperwork and deposits they require to get your water and electricity turned on.”

             
“Good….what else?”

             
“Let’s put a stake out on the house. See who comes and goes at least for a few days. That woman in jail will be released since there’s nothing to hold her on. Let’s put a tail on her and see where she goes.”

             
“Good thinking.”

             
“You got any ideas?”

             
“I’m wondering about those clippings. You know those photos of a Samantha Solomon. What’s that all about? Think Jonas Attaway or the woman with the rose tattoo knew her in high school? Might could get a yearbook and check out photos. See if there was anybody in her school by those names or anybody who looks familiar to us now.”

             
“Good, Jasper.”

             
“What year you reckon she graduated? She’s what about thirty-one or thirty-two. So let’s see if she graduated at seventeen or eighteen that would be 1997 99, somewhere in there.”

             
“I think you’re on to something. Oh, looks like the service is over.”

             
“Let’s mosey down and mingle.”

             
The detectives reached the group of mourners just as Sammi removed one red rose from the casket spray—the one over Blake’s heart and slipped it into her purse. She asked the funeral home to take the fresh flowers to patients in her aunt’s nursing home and others in the area.

             
The family car provided transportation back to the funeral home where restless photographers lingered. She slipped out quietly through the back door with JJ driving her back to the apartment.

Tragedy tagged along wherever
Sammi went, wherever she lived. Now numb to its existence she could not cry. She vowed to wake up from this nightmare. She could cry later.

             
Sammi shifted her attention to JJ’s rendition of the events surrounding Mr. Grumman at school and, finally, the fight in the cafeteria.

             
JJ continued driving up Cherry Street while they talked. “Sammi, do you know Dr. Christian? She’s the guidance counselor who threw the roll at Dr. Early.”

             
“No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

             
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m getting told lots of stuff and just trying to see what fits into this puzzle and what doesn’t, you know?”

             
“How would I know her?”

             
“Well, you know Mr. Brockton helped me get the job at the beauty shop, right?”

             
“Yes, I’ve heard you thank him for that.”

             
“I’ve seen Mr. Brockton coming out of her office several times, and she always seemed to be upset. I was just wondering if you would know why.”

             
“I don’t have a clue,” Sammi said. “I know people must have known a different side of him than I did.”

             
“Also, Sammi, one other thing, and I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy.”

             
“About what?”

             
“Sammi, how many times was Mr. Brockton married before you?”

             
Tears spewed forth like a geyser. Sammi started crying so hard JJ pulled the car into a vacant lot. “Sammi, I’m so sorry. Sammi.”