Who Am I?

"There just isn’t enough time for everything," Lynn Powers exclaimed as Bertram Luft entered her office.

Not enough time for what? asked Bertram, executive director of James County Hunger Alliance

She sighed. I was just looking at my calendar. I’ve run out of May before I’ve run out of all that I have to do this month. Lynn, the executive director of River Bend Philanthropies, a local community fund raising and granting organization, pushed her thick brown hair behind her ears.

I know you’re busy with the senior play and the prom and graduation. Bertram’s twins were in the same high school graduating class as Lynn’s son, Jason. There was a hopeful sound in his voice that caused Lynn to raise an eyebrow. But I wondered if you’d come with me to our first cake presentation tomorrow? Bertram’s smile flashed on his dark brown face.

How long will it take? She raised the other eyebrow. The Philanthropies had just awarded a small grant to the Hunger Alliance to buy birthday cakes for clients who receive home delivered meals. Clients celebrating a 70th, 80th or 90th birthday receive a small cake from the Alliance through the grant. For sometime, those who reached 100 years old had been receiving birthday cakes, and many younger clients had been known to complain that hanging around for a cake at 100 wasn’t enough incentive. The Hunger Alliance board decided to listen to their clients and put some celebration into other birthdays.

About an hour. Bertram wanted Lynn, as the executive director of the Philanthropies, to attend this first birthday. Nettie Teaberry is 90 tomorrow. Do you know her?

Everyone who attended River Bend High School knows her. She worked in the school cafeteria for decades. I think she was there when Dad was a student. Lynn flipped a page on her desk calendar and jotted a note.

Do you think he’d want to come? asked Bertram, his dazzling smile erupting again.

No, he’s already made a commitment with Robert O’Hara about some client meeting. He was complaining about it this morning. Her hair escaped from behind her ears as she flipped through more pages of her calendar.

I’ll pick you up about ten-thirty. Bertram started to leave.

Wait, do I bring anything? Lynn asked.

Just yourself. Bertram was gone.

~ ~ ~

Three women moved into the semi-private room of River Bend’s Aging Comfort, an assisted living and nursing facility. It was a generational picture. Lena Beaumont, the matriarch of the family, was moving into her new home with the help of her daughter, Mala Beaumont, and her granddaughter, Starr. Lena was a large elderly woman who had difficulty walking and breathing.

I don’t want to be with that skinny white woman, groused Lena as the CNA helped her from the wheelchair into her bed. They all looked at the woman asleep in the other bed.

Mama, moaned her daughter, you can’t talk like that.

Look at her. Lena pointed to the woman – skinny, pale, and snoring with her mouth open. That’s nobody to talk to and things. The old woman struggled into a sitting position in her bed. Mala adjusted her mother’s blankets while Starr leaned against the wall, bored with everything.

The CNA frowned at the three black women, thought about speaking and decided against it. She pushed the wheel chair out of the room.

Where are we going to get money for this place? Starr Beaumont asked her mother as she looked around the room.

I sold the farm to Ronnie a few years ago. I have enough, replied Lena as her daughter helped her settle into bed.

Mala put all her attention into Lena’s comfort. She didn’t want her mother to know that, using her power of attorney, she had dipped heavily into Lena’s resources. There wasn’t much money left, maybe enough for a year or two. Lena was only eighty-three years old and in Mala’s opinion didn’t look like she was checking out anytime soon, no matter what her physical challenges were.

I could have had a private room if I had gotten those jewels from Mazie, Lena said as she looked around the room and sniffed the air.

Mama, why are you still talking about that? She’s gone and we never found anything, Mala reminded her, darting her eyes from her mother to her daughter and back to Lena as a silent warning.

Mazie who? What jewels? asked Starr. Much of the money Mala had siphoned from Lena’s account had gone to help Starr pay for her criminal attorney. It had been worth every penny. Starr was a free woman. She had come to River Bend to allow the dust to settle in Pittsburgh where she had been charged with murder. The jury agreed with her attorney that Starr had been defending herself against her boyfriend who had several assault charges on his rap sheet. The verdict gave Starr a warm feeling - she was free, the bastard was dead and he hadn’t seen the final blow coming.

Mala explained to her daughter, Mama claims that my father was owed part of his family’s treasure, but he died so it should come to us.

You know who your daddy was? Starr asked her mother. Did you know mine?

I know who your daddy was. I just didn’t want him in our life, replied Mala, turning her face away from her daughter as she checked her hairdo in a mirror.

Or he didn’t want us in his? Starr challenged her mother.

Either way, snarled Mala, giving her hair a final pat, we managed without him. You’ve always got what you needed. Starr knew her mother meant the money for the attorney to get her acquittal.

Seeming not to hear the discussion, Lena said, There was a tape where they were all telling stories for those history people. Some fool tried to get all our black stories to sell or something. She thought for a moment. I think it was about thirty or forty years ago. Someone made copies of one of the tapes because of the stories and on that tape I heard that Mazie told everyone where she left them jewels. She probably told everyone because I wasn’t there that day. She was so mean.

This Mazie, is she the woman they talked about in the paper? They found her old body? asked Starr. She had been following a story in the local newspaper about a dead body found almost a year ago. The reporter challenged law enforcement to resolve the crime. There was an undercurrent of racial injustice because the dead woman, Mazie Doe, had been black.

That’s her, mumbled Lena. She never shared. Left everything hidden.

Left what? asked Starr.

Left the jewelry, said Lena after a big yawn.

Do you have the tape? Mala asked.

No, I think Nettie or Brownie has a copy. She yawned again.

~ ~ ~

Dusty Reid, lead detective for the James County-River Bend Joint Investigation Unit, dropped a large report on the desk of Teniquia LaMont, one of the three detectives under his command. That Mazie Doe case, anything happening?

She looked at the stack of paper, fished her current report out from under it and asked, How do you expect me to get into it when you keep coming up with all this other work? She flapped a sheet of paper under his nose.

He took the paper and read it. I thought you finished this.

She rolled her dark eyes at him. I filed it as part of Homeland Security paperless reporting and their server crashed, so I had to download the forms and do it by hand because the document wouldn’t translate onto my computer, she took a breath and gave him a threatening look, or on any computer in this department, the DA’s department, or the Sheriff’s office. So I had to print it out from a computer at the public library and now I’m filling it in by hand because we got rid of all the typewriters. With that she flopped back in her chair and scowled at the stack of reports.

Now that you’ve finished with Homeland Security, said Dusty unfazed by her soliloquy, you can tell me about this Mazie Doe. We found her body last July. She’s almost another year older.

I thought you were working with your mother on this case, piped up Mars, happy to be distracted from his own dreary report.

My grandmother remembers her, offered Danny, the third and youngest detective in the unit.

Dusty had spent time and effort in building this unit. Finding the right combination of people had been a challenge as he tiptoed through the political minefield of patronage and favors. But each time he saw his staff together, he knew he made the best choices. Martin Healey, Mars to his friends, was a former Marine with a degree in forensic accounting. Danny Valeri, younger and shorter than Mars, was part of the long time Italian-American community in River Bend. His relatives had immigrated to the community about a hundred years ago, bringing good food and music to the region. The last member of the team, Teniquia LaMont was a twenty-something African-American woman with an investigative ability that could only be defined as ESP. The young woman brought a mirth to the squad to balance the serious side of the men.

"I’ve been working on Mazie Doe, she informed the chief. I spoke with her son, Reverend Goodson Graves. They called him Goose in the old days. But the state’s taking a long time with the autopsy because it’s an old case. I’m waiting for their report and the items we found at her burial site to be sent back to us."

I think I just put the report on your desk, said Dusty as everyone watched the stack of papers slide from her desk and scatter across the floor. All the members of the unit got down on their knees to help collect and reorganize the papers.

Mazie Doe’s skeletal remains had been found along a small stream. After several days of rain a large tree had fallen, opening a small dirt cavern and exposing her remains. She had been missing for almost thirty-five years.

During the time the body was found the unit had been working on another case. In an interesting coincidence, a man, Sean Hennessey, under investigation in an unrelated incident, but later released, had offered pages from his father’s diary that referred to Mazie and the years she was his father’s housekeeper.

Dusty had given the Mazie Doe case to Teniquia to work on in her spare time. The initial observation by the local coroner identified trauma to the skull. But he had no opinion as to whether she hit her head in a fall or whether she had been assaulted.

So what have we got? It was the question Dusty asked his staff every morning. It was now late on a Friday afternoon.

I’ve collected the original missing person report, talked with her son, talked with a couple of the old detectives who worked the case. I’ve even talked with my mother. Nobody has anything new to add. Her son is happy to have her body. Teniquia sat back at her desk and held the report in her arms. He says he never thought she would have just left him, even though he was sent to jail about that time for drugs and robbery.

Before July gets here and the yearly reports are due, said Dusty, I’d like you to bring this case to some conclusion. She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, I don’t want anyone from the African-American community accusing us of not treating her death seriously. He eyed the newspaper sitting on Mars’ desk. And what about that reporter?

Teniquia blew out her breath. You mean Jasmine Fuller. She checks in with me every few weeks to ask about progress. So I understand your concerns. She could get the community stirred up if she thinks we’re not doing enough.

This report from the state gives a lot of information. I don’t want her to have it until you’ve read it and have a plan for pursuing the case, instructed Dusty.

What do you mean? asked Teniquia as Mars and Danny moved closer to hear the rest of Dusty’s story.

Mazie was hit with a blunt object but the report states that she was also strangled by someone using the straps of the purse that we found buried with her, said Dusty.

How do they know that?

Dusty rifled the pages of the report. It’s all here. They say the photo Mars took as the bones where unearthed suggest the purse straps, because of, he squinted at the typed page, crushed something and proximity –

Someone killed her, whispered Teniquia.

Danny and Mars gasped. Now they had an official murder case.

CHAPTER TWO

The curtain time for South Pacific, the senior play, was seven-thirty. The family had a great strategy to make certain they got dinner and got good seats. Everyone was meeting at Piper and Will’s house, which was right across the street from the high school.

Lynn walked into the house and was overwhelmed by the noise. Boys were yelling, Piper, her sister-in-law, was putting huge plates of food on the dining room table and the dog was in a frenzy of delight - food and more food. Piper was also hosting the cast party this evening.

Need any help? Lynn asked.

See what’s wrong with the boys. Lynn’s son, Jason, and Piper’s son, Doyle, should have already been at the auditorium getting into costume.

Rushing upstairs, Lynn found the two teenaged boys trying to stop the bleeding of a small gash on Doyle’s chin. What happened? she gasped.

He used a new razor, explained Jason as he shook his head in despair. I don’t know why. He only shaves on Sundays. He turned to Doyle. Why’d you shave tonight?

Holding a wad of toilet paper on his cut, Doyle moaned, I wanted to look sharp. I thought the make-up over my beard would make my face look bumpy.

What beard? asked Jason, disgusted with his cousin.

Never mind, said Lynn, Get some food and get over to school. I’m sure the bleeding will stop before the curtain goes up. Doyle blanched at her comment.

Jason laughed. Come on, man, you’re not mommy’s baby any more. He tumbled down the stairs.

Holding sandwiches in one hand and a soft drink in the other, Doyle, with toilet paper still stuck to his face, and Jason, with a sailor’s cap atilt on his head, ran from the house, as Dusty pulled to the curb.

Following behind him, Will arrived with Piper’s parents who were excited about the evening’s activities. Behind them came Jim, Lynn’s father. The men went to the kitchen for beer.

Piper walked into the kitchen with a plate of food. Collapsing into a chair she said, Go get yourselves something. I need a beer, too. What a day! She was an elementary school principal. Friday is the worst day of the week, tied with Monday. She ran her fingers through her short blond curls and got mustard on her eyebrow. Everyone laughed.

Jim had been quick to take her advice and joined her at the table with his meal. I haven’t had dinner for five weeks. He glanced at a wall calendar and added, And tomorrow is our six week anniversary. Jim had recently married Marianna Pruitt, a gifted actress. In her role as new wife and Doyle and Jason’s new grandmother, she had volunteered to work on the high school production.

Maybe we should take some food to her, suggested Lynn.

No, said Jim, she says she’ll eat some protein bars.

How soon should we get to the play? asked Glenda, Piper’s mother. I want a really good seat. Everyone settled into the kitchen with their food.

I brought some of my wine, announced Bri, Piper’s father, maybe we can take a nip at intermission, Jim.

Sounds good to me. Jim got more beers for everyone.

Will came into the room with his plate. Who’s the big star of this production?

Not our boys, said Piper. They’re the sailor chorus.

We have to sit there all night for chorus members? moaned Dusty. He took a second beer from Jim.

Yes, said all the women in unison.

~ ~ ~

Jason walked from the high school across the street to the party at Piper’s house. Opening night of South Pacific was history. As he got closer to the house, he heard cheers and whistles. I didn’t do it on purpose, he shouted into the crowd.

Marianna caught up with him and held his arm. Just walk with dignity. It’s a great gift to get the biggest laugh on stage.

But that coconut bra fell off all by itself. I didn’t do it on purpose.

Jason was greeted with applause as he entered the house. Bri Llewellyn and Jim toasted him with homemade blackberry wine. Dusty and Will raised their cans of beer. Lynn ran into the kitchen so he wouldn’t see her laughing at him.

I didn’t do it on purpose, he said, again. No one listened.

All of you leave him alone, Marianna instructed the men of the family as she took a sip of the homemade wine. Years from now he’ll enjoy telling the story, but tonight he’s as embarrassed as a sixteen year old girl would be who’d lost her bra on stage.

I don’t think any living sixteen year old girl is as flat chested as he is, roared Will. The rest of the sailor chorus was in the back yard calling for Jason to sing his lines. Walking out to join them, he shouted, I didn’t do it on purpose. The sailor chorus cheered.

Marianna frowned at the men and followed Jason out of the room. She walked into the kitchen carrying the flowers she had received at the final curtain. Piper dug out a vase and Marianna used her bouquets to decorate the buffet table.

Those are lovely, said Lynn.

Aren’t they? agreed Marianna. These are from many of my students and their parents. This is such a lovely stage tradition. She placed more daisies and chrysanthemums into the vase already crowded with lilies and roses.

Are you pleased with tonight’s performance? asked Piper. Working with youngsters can be so challenging.

I’m pleased. Next year...

Next year? asked Piper and Lynn together.

Marianna replied, I promised to help until Jeff graduates.

That’ll be two more years, Piper reminded her. Jeff was Piper’s youngest son and currently a sophomore.

Then I’ll have worked with all the youngsters in the family, smiled Marianna. Piper hugged her.

CHAPTER THREE

Bertram Luft knocked at Lynn’s door promptly at ten-thirty Saturday morning. Jason was just stumbling down the stairs to breakfast. He stopped to answer the door.

Mr. Luft, the youngster yawned, I don’t think your kids are here.

I have a date with your mother. Bertram was amused by the young man. You did a great job in the senior play last night.

I didn’t do it on purpose.

Bertram laughed. My kids thought it was the best part of the play.

Jason grimaced, then indicated that Bertram should follow him. They walked back to the kitchen where Lynn and Dusty were chatting with Carl, Dusty’s brother.

I’m ready, Bertram, greeted Lynn, unless you need some coffee before we go.

No, thanks. He shook hands with the other men. I think we’ll have some at the party.

I saw your daughter at that play last night, said Carl, as he refilled his coffee. She’s got a real pretty voice. Does she play piano like you? Bertram was well known around River Bend for his musical skills, a talent that he was always willing to share.

No, she got her music in her voice. She does play guitar. Danny’s been teaching her.

Lynn said, You guys remember to fix that faucet. I need to do laundry. She kissed Dusty on the cheek and then rushed out the door.

Bertram opened the car door for Lynn, gesturing to the box on the back seat. That’s our cake. The baker did a great job. He came up with just the right size. A two layer, eight inch round for a great price. As they drove out to the trailer park to greet Nettie Teaberry, an elderly African-American woman who had spent her entire life in River Bend, the two parents relived the fun of last evening’s senior play.

~ ~ ~

Teniquia asked her mother, Glory LaMont, to meet at the Joint Investigation Unit office this Saturday morning, because she wanted a quiet place with no interruptions. Although she had questioned her mother when Mazie Doe’s remains had been discovered, she had no idea how her mother would respond now that they were discussing murder. The young detective wanted a professional setting to help her mother understand the gravity of the case. Teniquia was prepared to answer all of Glory’s questions.

Glory LaMont was delighted with this new adventure. When her daughter was hired for the investigator position, Glory made certain all her friends knew about the young woman’s success. The proud mother had been waiting a long time to finally be a part of an investigation.

Teniquia brought some pastries from the bakery and made fresh coffee. She cleared off the worktable near the window and looked again at the list of questions