Blood Ties Read online

  Blood Ties

  Josephine Barly

  Index

  1

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  6

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  8

  9

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  11

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  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  Epilogue

  1

  I was watching Law & Order when the phone rang, so my mind assumed it had something to do with a crime. Nothing related one thing to the other, but I have a tendency to associate things. Maybe my job as a book editor has me seeing plots where there are none.

  The phone rang for a second time and I picked up the receiver. I placed it by my ear but kept quiet for a moment—Detective Benson was cross-examining a key witness.

  “Miss Samantha Pearson?” a deep male voice asked, forcing me to turn my attention away from the TV.

  “Yes, that’s me. Who’s speaking?” I replied with very little interest showing in my voice; after all, on a Sunday night, it was probably a bar owner calling me to let me know my brother was passed out, and that I had to go get him.

  “This is detective Aidan Davies. I’m calling regarding Susan Andrews. Could you come down to Tillman Station on 426 Tillman?”

  “What’s going on with Susie?” I asked, startled, my full attention on the conversation now.

  We’d had dinner on Saturday and had gone out for some drinks, and she’d left to go meet her boyfriend, so the police calling about her was unexpected.

  “Miss Pearson, we need you to come to the station. Can you get here on your own or shall we send someone to get you?” Detective Davies enquired, ignoring my question.

  His very obvious disregard of what I wanted him to explain made me fear the worst. I closed my eyes as Susie’s face popped into my mind and breathed to steady the shaking that I felt growing within me.

  “Is she dead?” I asked slowly.

  “We think so; I’m sorry Miss Pearson. Can you come here or should I send an officer to get you?” Detective Davies tried to be soothing but his voice was stone-cold and completely professional.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I replied shortly as I hung up.

  I turned the TV off, stood up, walked to my bedroom, slipped into my running shoes, grabbed my coat and purse, found the car keys and left my apartment, locking the door as I left. I put on the coat and rode the elevator down to the garage.

  My blue Focus rolled briskly through the streets of Memphis. The stereo played a song I’d heard a million times before, but that right now made no sense at all. I stopped at a traffic light and looked around. A couple was leaving a restaurant; a mother and daughter walked their golden retriever; two teenagers smoked cigarettes on the deck of a house…People carried on with their lives, but it all seemed wrong to me. The light turned green.

  I finally got to the station. I parked my car and walked in. A young policewoman stood behind the reception desk; she lifted her gaze from the magazine she was reading. A drunken man sat against a wall, handcuffed to a chair, completely asleep; an officer sat by his side, looking displeased. Two women, in their late twenties, were talking loudly to two police officers, one male and one female, defending their garments; hookers, I assumed.

  “Hello, how may I help you?” Officer Ashley Thomas, I read from her tag, asked.

  “I’m Samantha Pearson. Detective Davies called me regarding Susan Andrews,” I explained, trying to stop myself from having a nervous breakdown.

  “Yes, wait a moment please,” she replied as she left her place and walked to a door on the right.

  She knocked on it and, before getting an answer, opened it. She stuck her head in, said something along the lines of “She’s here,” and resumed her place by the front desk.

  A six feet three tall man exited the room and walked towards me. He wore black trousers, a black shirt, a black jacket that showcased wide square shoulders and a purple tie; either he was eccentric or he had very poor dressing skills. Big brown eyes looked into mine and revealed nothing. His black hair was neatly combed and his face was shaven, revealing a full lower lip, angular cheeks and a sharp jaw. Long firm fingers stretched out to shake mine. Under other circumstances I might have felt a contraction in my stomach.

  “Miss Pearson?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m Detective Aidan Davies, we spoke fifteen minutes ago regarding Susan—”

  “Susan Andrews,” I interrupted. “What’s going on?” I asked impatiently.

  “Please follow me,” Detective Davies replied as he turned around and motioned towards a door next to the one he’d come out from. I was guided towards a chair and sat down.

  Detective Davies poured a glass of water and I held it between my hands, but didn’t drink it. My throat was parched but I was too nervous to drink anything.

  “Would you mind explaining what’s going on?” I asked yet again, faintly; I feared the answer and somehow predicted it.

  “I’m afraid we received a phone call at midday today from Miss Andrews’ neighbor. Miss Lidia Williams,” he said, checking a notepad he kept in his jacket pocket, “had the super open the door after her dog kept on barking. We found a body, which we think is Miss Andrews. We called you because you’re listed as her next of kin.”

  “Yes, her parents died years ago and she is…was an only child. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten.”

  I breathed in a big gulp of air and my eyes filled with tears, but I pushed them back. I couldn’t break down right now—I needed to know if and why Susie was dead.

  “What happened?” I asked slowly, after a few moments of silence.

  “Actually, I can’t disclose that information; and the reason we called you down here is because we need you to identify the body. Miss Williams claimed she’d only seen Miss Andrews on very few occasions and couldn’t really identify her because she’d recently moved in to the building.”

  “Oh,” I replied startled; I nodded slowly. “Sure, where is it?”

  “Before I take you there, you should know that the body is in bad shape—”

  “I know, I watch crime shows, I know what to expect. Just take me there, okay?” I was impatient; I wanted to get this over with.

  Detective Davies nodded and walked towards the door. He opened it and motioned for me to go. The detective guided me to a third room next to the one we’d been at. The lights were dim and there was a large silver table with a body on it, covered by a white sheet. The image wasn’t shocking—the smell was. Instinctively, I took my hand to my mouth and felt my stomach quiver. Detective Davies placed his hand behind my back, attempting to be soothing, but he was too unemotional. A forensics doctor stood by the corpse. Her white robe looked impeccable, so I guessed she hadn’t done an autopsy yet. Actually, I wasn’t sure the autopsy would take place at the station, they’d probably move the body or something, I didn’t know. There was a lot that crime shows didn’t reveal.

  Her black curls bounced as she nodded at me to move next to her. I breathed through my mouth as I walked the few steps that led me next to the body.

  “Miss Pearson, I’m Samaire Littlest, the forensics doctor. I need you to tell me if this is your friend, Susan Andrews. Her face is a bit swollen and has a purplish color. If you can tell us if she’s got any particular moles or birthmarks that we can use to confirm her to be Miss Andrews, I’d appreciate it.”

  I nodded and Dr. Littlest unveiled the corpse. That wasn’t Susan, but it had been once. Her long blond hair fell straight against the cold table, and her bottom lip had a small mole on it. Instinctively, my hand sprang forward and removed a strand of hair from her forehead. I shivered; her skin was cold
and hard and…lifeless.

  I nodded as my eyes swelled with tears. Dr. Littlest covered the corpse and Detective Davies gently steered me out of the room and back to the previous one we’d been at. He sat me on the chair and handed me a handkerchief. I grabbed it and held it as tears rolled down my cheeks. Images of Susie flashed before my eyes, from our childhood, our teenage years, our early twenties…She would have been twenty-nine in two weeks. And now…I dried my face and looked up. The detective now sat across the table and looked at me with impassive eyes. I swallowed and nodded slowly. He grabbed a pen from his pocket and the notepad; he flipped it open and looked at me.

  “When did you last see Miss Andrews?”

  “Saturday night…last night. We went out for dinner and drinks. She left me to meet her boyfriend, Ray Parker. He’s an investment banker or something like that. I’ve got his contact information at home.” I took a deep breath and held back more tears. I understood Susie had been murdered. Now I wanted to get whoever had done it. My fists clenched around the handkerchief.

  “Okay,” he answered as he scribbled. “Do you know if someone who would want to harm her?”

  “She was a divorce attorney who represented women separating from famous or very well -off men; she squeezed them almost dry. Not many people liked her due to her profession and habit of being a predator in mediations and courtrooms, so I’d consider all her clients’ former husbands possible...enemies.”

  “Okay. Can you think of anyone in particular? Do you know if she’s ever received threats of any kind?”

  I thought for a moment and shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said.

  He looked up and stared at me as if I was an idiot. He seemed to forget I was in shock over having lost my best friend. “Would you mind elaborating on that?”

  “Most men called right after the divorces were finalized, swearing they’d make her life a living hell, they’d make sure she was disbarred, and stuff like that. Susie would laugh it off and play these messages for me; she even recorded one as a ringtone because it was a man cursing for two full minutes, and she found astounding the amount of synonyms for bitch he’d found.”

  “Never a written threat? An attempt on her life?”

  “Not really; at least, nothing she told me about. Susie and I shared a lot, and if she was scared, she would have told me.”

  “Okay then. Thank you very much for your collaboration,” Detective Davies said as he closed the notepad and stood up. “If there’s anything else we need from you, we’ll let you know.”

  “Wait, won’t you tell me anything about how she died?” I stammered.

  “It’s a pending investigation, so the information we’re dealing with is classified. We’ll confirm the resolution of the case, but I’m not at liberty to share anything right now.”

  I was led back to the front desk, where Officer Thomas still read the magazine. She made me sign some papers, and by the time I was done, Detective Davies was out of sight and I gazed around wistfully. Realizing my time to leave had come, I said goodbye to the policewoman and took off.

  I drove back home slowly. Even if I was used to living alone and I was currently single, the idea of being without any sort of company made me feel wretched. So I drove around town for hours. I got on I-40, stopped at a gas station for a diet Coke, got on the highway again, drove for a few more hours, and returned home.

  I parked the car in the garage and rode the elevator quietly. I couldn’t think. Not a single thought was processed by my mind. I just could not fabricate one single idea. My brain was completely blank.

  I unlocked the door and popped in. The early rays of dawn were creeping through the window. I went to the couch where I’d been sitting on earlier, took off my shoes, covered myself with a comforter, and stared into space.

  At eight sharp I called my office, letting my boss and HR know I wouldn’t show up. Luckily, my boss expressed concern and reassurance, so I assumed he’d gotten some over the weekend, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so understanding. I spent the rest of the morning gazing at the wall, remembering…I dozed off.

  I opened my eyes and the stiffness in my neck made me remember the situation. Susie was dead, I’d slept on my couch, and life suddenly seemed to be much more screwed up than usual.

  I stretched my arms and legs. I went to my bedroom, undressed, placed my clothes on the bed, and took a shower. Hot drops splashed against my skin. I got goose-bumps due to a cold breeze that entered through the small bathroom window. I shuddered and draped my arms around myself. I stood still for a moment and then used shampoo and conditioner on my hair, and soap over my body. I scraped my skin because I could still smell the corpse. Once I noticed my skin was gaining a reddish color, I turned off the shower and proceeded to dry myself.

  I changed into a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt, and grabbed the coat from the previous night. As I put it on, I felt something in the pocket: Detective Davies’ handkerchief. I sighed and put it away; I’d call him later.

  I drove my car to Susie’s place. I needed to get a hold of her address book to contact anyone interested or affected by her passing.

  A tape banned the door, and a policeman told me the scene would be clear in another two days. I explained my situation and he entered her place. I saw people taking pictures and talking in low voices.

  Detective Davies exited the apartment and placed his hand on my back; he led me to the elevator and called it.

  “Miss Andrews’ address and phone book are currently listed as evidence, Miss Pearson. We’ll release them once the investigation concludes; I’ll let you know when that happens.”

  “But I need to contact people.”

  “Call her office; her assistant will be pleased to help you. I’m sorry but that’s the best we can do for the time being; you’ve got to understand, solving the investigation is our priority.”

  “Of course, but…” I sighed. “Was she raped?”

  Detective Davies looked around and shook his head. His face turned stern. “Keep that to yourself. If you think about anything that may help us, let me now,” he said as he got a card from his shirt pocket and handed it over to me. “The body won’t be released for a couple more days, so I suggest you hold a memorial and have a cremation or burial later on.”

  “Susie would have wanted a cremation. I’ll arrange to have a meeting at home or something like that.”

  I turned slightly pink as I realized he couldn’t have cared any less. I hated that he made me blush, given the circumstances. The elevator opened and I got in. The detective pressed the button for me and, as the doors closed, I remembered the handkerchief; but I was already on my way down, so I shrugged it off and thought I’d return it on another occasion.

  I drove to Susie’s workplace. Sandy, roundish, tall, blue-eyed and with dark brown hair always kept in a simple ponytail, Susie’s assistant, took me to her office. The police had been there overnight, and the place was a bit of a mess.

  “How are you doing, Sandy?” I asked as we sat on the couch in Susie’s office.

  The room was huge; a big, beautiful wooden desk and full library behind it, a computer with a flat screen (she also had a laptop, but the police currently kept it as evidence), three couches and a coffee table, and antique chairs that somehow managed to be both stunning and snug.

  Not many twenty-eight-year-olds had such offices, but the senior partners in the firm, Annabel James and Peter Walker, knew Susie was worth it. She’d never lost a case once she’d stepped into a courthouse. She’d built herself a reputation that had some of the opposing lawyers suggest their clients to give in to the demands during mediations, knowing they’d lose if they went to trial.

  Sandy poured me a cup of black coffee as well as one for herself. I nodded, thanking her and rousing her to talk. She stammered at first, but finally managed to speak.

  “It’s such a shock! The police called me last night; actually, this morning. After talking with Annabel and P
eter, I was asked to come here to let them in and tell them where Susan’s things were. They asked me a few questions, but it still hasn’t really sunk in.”

  “I know what you mean, Sandy.”

  “She was my mentor, Samantha. She taught me many things and guided me professionally. She kept me in line, showed me I had to be respectful to everyone I don’t consider a friend. She was amazing to me when I broke up with my boyfriend…It’s just simply unbelievable,” Sandy finished, bursting into sobs.

  I moved to her side and hugged her, trying to ease her out of her sadness.

  “It’s okay, Sandy, she loved you very much, too. The mere fact that Susie kept you as her assistant for over a whole year shows she was really happy with how you worked for her.”

  “I did my best,” Sandy said as she nodded through tears. “She’d probably get mad at me for crying in the office. She said never to show the human face on the professional place.”

  “That was her, but she would have made an exception today.”

  We remained seated for a few more minutes, Sandy sobbing and me patting her back quietly. After she was done, I asked for an address book that could help me get in touch with everyone she knew so that I could organize the memorial. Sandy complied, emailed me a digital copy and let me know she’d be glad to help me out in any way she could. I thanked her and took off.

  I drove home with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Susie had been murdered, but I couldn’t think of a single person who could have done it. Reasons to be angry—there were plenty, but none worthy of murder.

  After parking the car in the garage, I rode the elevator to my apartment, still rummaging motives for killing Susie. I found a package waiting for me and picked it up, surprised. The card was addressed to me, but there wasn’t a sender’s name on it.

  I got into my place, locked the door behind me, and left the present on the dining-room table. I went to my room and grabbed the phone. I made reservations at an art gallery Susie loved, so the intimate gathering would take place there on Wednesday. I called a printer I knew due to my job and asked my contact to print a large photo of Susie and to send it, framed, to my house on Tuesday at the latest. I assured him I’d pay him double the fee, and he happily complied. I sent him a digital copy of the photo from my laptop. As I flipped through the pictures, I got weary and wistful, and decided to take another shower.