Blinded by the Trees Page 8

  Frankie wondered whether the tissue was because of the stench or her emotions. “Hopefully she’ll get out as soon as she’s old enough.” If she’s lucky to live that long. She didn’t voice the last part, but from the look in her mother’s eyes she knew Selma was thinking the same thing. She laid a tender hand on her mother’s arm. “Come on, Mom. We’ll think of something else. Maybe you can come on a less dangerous stakeout with us sometime.” Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this place.” She watched as Johanna’s head whipped around and shot her a questioning look. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Selma sighed dejectedly. “I suppose you’re right. I just wish there was something I could do.”

  “Selma, that’s what we all wish. But getting the scum off the streets is the first step. As for this,” she lifted her arm in a sweeping motion, “it’s up to the city to condemn these buildings. But it’s a Catch-22. Most of these tenants would end up homeless. The shelters are overcrowded as it is so they’d have nowhere to go, but the streets.”

  “Well the city should force the landlords to make them habitable.” She took Johanna’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

  A door at the end of the hall opened as they made their way toward the exit. A man and woman stepped out. The woman wore a shabby brown coat that was threadbare and the man wore a tattered leather jacket. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth. He fumbled with a key trying to get it to lock the door.

  “Fucking lock!” the man shouted angrily as he wiggled the key back and forth. “It won’t fucking catch,” he growled.

  “Clyde, don’t curse,” the woman said without removing her eyes from him. She didn’t notice the three women near the exit. She was oblivious to everything except her husband’s task.

  Frankie stood and slightly turned observing them. She doubted they’d have anything worth stealing, but they still seemed intent on making the lock work. Unless the apartment was filled with stolen goods. That’s it! They’re stashing the stolen goods in the apartment!

  “That’s them,” Johanna whispered.

  “I know,” Frankie replied under her breath, keeping an eye on them.

  “What do you want to do?” Johanna asked nervously.

  Frankie tore her gaze from them and glanced over her shoulder. “I wonder where they’re going.” She frowned at Johanna “Want to follow them?” she whispered.

  She nodded. “Yes, we can pretend we’re looking for an apartment until they pass. Keep your back toward them. Whatever you do, don’t let them see you.”

  Frankie leaned close to her mother who stood blatantly staring at the couple and said in a low voice close to her ear, “Change of plans, Mom. Quit looking at them and pretend you’re looking for something in your purse. Don’t say a word to them. Let Johanna and me handle this.”

  “I have an idea.” Selma cocked an eye. “I think it’ll work.”

  “Mom, please!” she hissed. “Do as I say. Don’t try anything. You don’t understand what the mindset of some of these people are. They’d just as soon knife you and ask questions later.” She didn’t want to be so vivid, but concluded the harsh facts would be the only way her mother would do as she was told.

  Selma looked away a split second before Clyde Burrows got the lock to catch. Frankie breathed a sigh of relief. As the Burrows’ approached, without warning, Selma moved in front of them blocking their path.

  Frankie swore under her breath. Dammit! Why doesn’t she listen? She was determined to refuse to allow Selma any more involvement with the case. She had no training and she certainly had no clue how quickly a situation could change in the blink of an eye.

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you,” Selma said. “We’d like to offer our condolences on the loss of your son.”

  Frankie visibly stiffened as she watched the dark evil eyes of Clyde Burrows sweep over her mother. It was too late to stop Selma. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the irritation come into Johanna’s eyes. She was pissed and Frankie didn’t blame her. Her mother had overstepped the bounds and now Frankie regretted giving in to her and coming here in the first place. But the damage was done and there was nothing she could do, but try to salvage the situation before it got any worse. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use her gun, but was relieved that she and Johanna had them hidden securely under their coats.

  Clyde let out a puff of smoke then yanked the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the floor grinding it out under his large well-worn boot. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled.

  His cold eyes unnerved Frankie, but she kept her cool. She saw Selma tense as the man moved closer leering at them.

  “We heard about your son and wanted to offer our condolences,” Selma replied slowly.

  Brenda Burrows’ jaw twitched nervously. She opened her mouth then quickly closed it when Clyde sharply poked her in the ribs with an elbow.

  “You already said that. Who sent you?” he demanded. “Was it one of these nosy assholes who live here? Or was it one of those investigators? They ain’t given us a minute’s peace since we came here. Always poking their noses into our business.”

  “No. No one sent us. We’re visiting friends in the neighborhood,” Johanna interjected. “When we learned you lived so close, we thought we’d stop in to see if we could do anything for you. It’s all over the news. Such a horrible tragedy. We just wanted to make sure you have everything you need.”

  His steely eyes once again moved over them. “Dressed kind of fancy for this neighborhood, don’t ya think?”

  Frankie realized they were overdressed for this area of town even though she considered their attire very casual, but if the way the Burrows’ and the couple they’d seen the evening before had been dressed, then she had to agree that they indeed were overdressed. She and Johanna were attired in dress slacks and Selma had a dressy pantsuit on. Their outerwear certainly was top of the line in comparison to the Burrows’ coats, which had definitely seen better days.

  Selma ignored his remark. She drew a deep breath. “We felt compelled to offer our sympathy on the loss of your son, that’s all. No one sent us. We realize this must be the most heart-wrenching thing a parent can go through, and the holiday season only worsens the pain. Please, if there’s anything we can do for you just let us know.”

  Frankie watched Brenda’s eyes fill. Her stricken face didn’t come close to the pain Frankie knew the woman must have been suffering deep inside. Brenda chewed her bottom lip as she raised her grief-stricken eyes to Selma’s. Clyde’s face registered no emotion. His eyes shifted as his long bony fingers clenched his wife’s elbow. Frankie closely watched Brenda’s reaction. She understood her husband’s message loud and clear to keep her mouth closed just by his touch. She noted how Brenda looked nothing like her picture. Even though she was still attractive, the years hadn’t been kind to her and she assumed when Brenda reached her twilight years any semblance of prettiness would be gone. The soft features prominent in her photo had disappeared, replaced by a roughness. She was extremely thin and her skin had an unhealthy pallor. Her face was too lean making her narrow nose look more pronounced. Clyde looked just like his picture, but then his was more up-to-date due to his record. She wondered what Johanna was thinking.

  “Around this dump there is no Christmas. Never has been and never will be.” He pushed past Selma. “And we certainly don’t need your charity. We do for ourselves. Cody’s dead and that’s the end of it. He’s probably better off. At least he’s out of this hellhole. Not that the little bastard would have amounted to much anyway.” His dark eyes grew into angry slits.

  Frankie’s eyes widened and by the looks on Johanna and Selma’s faces they were as shocked as she was by Clyde Burrows obvious lack of compassion or the sense of loss for his son’s death. The man was cold. He was devoid of any emotion.

  “Clyde, how can you say such a thing? Our son is dead!” A slow moan erupted from Brenda’s throat and her body began to shake convulsively. She grew unstea
dy on her feet and began to sway.

  Without fearing the consequences, Selma instinctively reached out and gathered the grieving woman in her arms. She began murmuring soothingly to her while patting her back.

  Frankie looked at Johanna, but her eyes stayed riveted on Selma. She knew that Johanna was ready to make a move if Clyde got rough. She prepared herself.

  Clyde jerked his wife out of Selma’s embrace. “Come on, Brenda. All the slobbering in the world ain’t gonna bring that little bastard of yours back. We warned him about that gang he was running with. He didn’t listen and now look where he is.”

  “Have the police found his killer?” Frankie asked, keeping her eyes locked on Clyde’s.

  He laughed bitterly. “I doubt Cody is at the top of their list. Just another punk from the wrong side of the tracks. Instead of looking for the real killer, they waste their time tryin’ to pin it on me and my wife.”

  Brenda sniffed. “No, Clyde, he was a good boy and you know it. He only ran with that crowd because you—”

  Before she could finish the sentence Clyde’s arm shot out and he slapped her hard. His hand left a bright red mark on her pale cheek. Her hand flew to the spot on her cheek as tears spilled from her eyes.

  Selma’s jaw dropped and she started toward the woman. Frankie grabbed her arm before she could take another step. “We’re sorry we bothered you,” she said stiffly as she steered Selma toward the exit. Clyde Burrows was a violent man and she could only imagine what went on inside of their apartment. She recalled what the couple they’d met from the building had said about Clyde beating his son. Even though Clyde wasn’t a big man, she knew that he thrived on violence and the poor kid never stood a chance.

  “Don’t come back here again! You hear me?” Clyde bellowed after them. “We take care of our own! Leave us the hell alone!”

  * * * *

  Not until they were safely in the car and out of the neighborhood did Frankie speak. She was so angry with her mother that she trembled. She wanted to tear into Selma, but looking at her face in the mirror as it contorted with emotion made her decide to take a softer approach. She drew a deep breath then exhaled slowly as she counted to ten hoping to keep the boiling anger inside her under control.

  She turned and faced her mother who was sitting directly behind Johanna. “Mom, next time please listen to me. I asked you not to initiate anything. You put us in not only an awkward position, but a dangerous one as well. Clyde Burrows could have snapped. He might have attacked you without warning.” Frankie had difficulty keeping her tone level and knew that it was harsher than she had intended.

  Johanna jumped in before Frankie could say another word. “No, it’s okay, Selma. In fact, you’ve given me an idea. I think it just might work, too.”

  “What is it?” Frankie asked, surprised that Johanna wasn’t as angry as she was. She thought that once securely home and in the privacy of their bedroom, Johanna would unleash her frustration.

  “I don’t want to say anything until I work out all the details. I need to search something on the Internet when we get home.”

  “Won’t you give me at least a little hint?” Frankie prodded.

  “No, I’ll fill you both in once I have it figured out.”

  Chapter 8

  Johanna grabbed a folder and marked Burrows in big letters with a black marker. She propped her chin on her hands as she stared at the computer screen. She hadn’t a clue where to start. All she had to go on was the information George had given them and her first impression of meeting the couple face-to-face. Frankie and she were on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as their evaluation of the couple was concerned. But that wasn’t anything new. Oftentimes they went in opposite directions, but in the end, it all came together.

  There had to be something she was missing. The couple was so mismatched. There was no way Brenda Burrows could even remotely be attracted to Clyde. He was crude, dirty and looked like he’d just come down from the hills. And he was both verbally and physically abusive to her. So why would she put up with a man of such low standards? Brenda was educated, very attractive, and soft-spoken. Something was definitely missing. But then again, opposites did attract. Many times she remembered mentioning to Frankie that certain people didn’t seem to go together. Maybe they saw something in the other person no one else could see—a side the other party kept well hidden from the public and only brought out in private to their partner. She screwed up her face. No. Not this time. As much as she tried to convince herself that that had to be the reason, she couldn’t. She wasn’t buying it. Brenda Burrows could have had her pick of men. Why had she settled for a shiftless bum who was in and out of jail and made her and their son live in such squalid conditions? What was she missing? As she stared at the pictures, she held each out in front of her and slowly processed all of the dominating features of each one. Cody had many of his mother’s features, but none of his father’s. She tried to visualize the Brenda Burrows she’d seen tonight and compared her to the picture. Seventeen years had passed since the picture was taken. She couldn’t believe a person could change that much. She sighed deeply.

  Tailing Clyde Burrows was only the tip of the iceberg. No, she wouldn’t find peace until she identified Cody Burrows’ killer. The old instincts welled up in her. The burning need to put that monster behind bars. It sickened her knowing Cody Burrows’ killer was still at large. Would he strike again or was this murder isolated? She doubted it was the work of a serial killer. Even though she’d witnessed Brenda’s tears, she still wasn’t buying into it. It was just an act. Frankie would have to come up with an angle she missed to convince her otherwise and so far she hadn’t been able to.

  She would never be convinced that Brenda wasn’t involved somehow. No matter what Frankie said, she’d bet her last dollar that Brenda Burrows knew who the killer of her son was. But how could they drag that information out of her? There had to be a way to break her down.

  The idea she’d told Frankie and Selma about earlier began to take root in Johanna’s mind. She jotted notes and made sketches. As she worked, the idea became even more pronounced in her mind’s eye. She grinned and jumped up from the desk. She couldn’t wait to share the news with Frankie. She gathered up the folder and headed to the living room. Only a dim light from a table lamp illuminated the room. It felt cold and empty as she looked at the darkened Christmas tree.

  She sighed. Frankie and Selma must have gone to bed. She glanced at her wristwatch surprised that she’d been working for more than three hours in the office. No wonder they’d gone to bed. She knew that’s what she should do, also, but she was too keyed up to sleep. She turned on the tree lights and threw another log on the dying fire wishing Frankie was here with her.

  After pouring herself a glass of wine, she settled on the sofa and opened the folder scanning the contents. She wondered if George noticed the contrast between Clyde Burrows and his wife. He hadn’t seemed to think anything was odd, but she knew that there was definitely more here than met the eye. And there was still the question of how Cody Burrows’ body had ended up at Clark’s Christmas Tree Farm. There was still too much that didn’t add up. She also was aware that George, without saying, knew that the detectives would dig much deeper into the Burrows’ than they’d been asked to. George had only asked them to tail Clyde Burrows and to leave the murder investigation to him. He knew them well enough, though, to know that they’d never be satisfied with just tailing the man especially since his son had just been murdered. As long as they did nothing to hamper the murder investigation, George would be satisfied.

  * * * *

  Frankie hummed softly as she made a pot of coffee. She looked up when Selma emerged through the door. Johanna sauntered into the kitchen after her and over to Frankie where she slipped an arm around her waist. Frankie turned her head slightly and kissed Johanna.

  “What time did you come to bed last night?” Frankie asked.

  “Late. I was going to wake you, but you were sleepin
g so peacefully that I didn’t have the heart,” she whispered close to her ear.

  “I think I was out the minute my head hit the pillow.” Frankie grabbed three coffee mugs.

  “Not me. I was wired.”

  “So are you ready to fill us in?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she faced Johanna.

  “Let me have my shot of caffeine first.”

  Selma laughed. “I’ll cook breakfast this morning, Frankie,” she offered.

  “You know what? This morning I’m going to take you up on it, Mom.”

  Johanna walked over to Selma and gave her a hug. “While you’re cooking I’ll fill you and Frankie in on everything I’ve been going over.”

  Frankie seated herself at the island. Johanna joined her while Selma busied herself getting breakfast ready. “Okay, what did you come up with?”

  Johanna held a hand up palm out. “Now before you object, just hear me out before you poke holes in my theory.” Her eyes narrowed as she peered at Frankie. “No interruptions unless I ask you a question.”

  Frankie nodded. “All right.” She placed her elbow on the counter and propped her chin on her hand. “You have my word.”

  “Okay, now we all saw the pictures George sent over of the Burrows. Think about this for a moment. Brenda has class and looks and Clyde is a bum. So why would a woman like her hook up with him?”

  Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know, but I thought we’d already discussed this. Besides, the picture we saw of her is ancient. She doesn’t look that good now.”

  “But she still is good-looking compared to him.”

  Frankie nodded, but didn’t offer any further opinion.

  “Clyde must have something on her. There’s no other explanation. She’s only staying with him out of fear. She must have done something that she’s afraid he’ll tell.”

  “It makes sense to me,” Selma said. “What doesn’t make sense is why she would marry him, have his child, and put up with his abuse.”