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While we wait, Alex catches us up on how the talk went with Jasmine about taking a break from teaching.
“She’s good with it. Didn’t bat an eye. Jasmine understands that our time is better spent chasing down the people responsible,” Alex says, then tells us how Jasmine let him ramble on before shutting him up.
“Jasmine’s good people. Chloe thinks she’s the shit,” Damian adds.
“Yeah. Sabrina thinks Jaz is great for Zeke. He looks happy. Even with the broken leg.” Alex laughs.
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about keeping tabs at the school, and it takes the danger away from the kids.” I sigh a breath of relief. I never wanted Jasmine to go back, but she was insistent, so for Zeke’s sake, I made it work. “Damian’s with me when we’re questioning these two. Alex, you’re the watchman. Pay special attention to mannerisms and dates. Mark them down. I wanna check out every detail,” I tell him.
“I know the drill,” Alex replies. “I get that you’re irked. We are too. Just remember, we’re all shooting for the same net.”
Crap! I’m letting my frustration show. It’s time to reel it in. It’s my job to stay focused and be the voice of reason. “Absolutely. You know your job.”
Officer Rawlins is approaching with purpose. “Detective Thorne, they’re here. Sir.” Rawlins is a long-standing fixture with the department. He’s a by-the-book cop. If he’s on duty, it’s “Detective Thorne” or “Sir.” When we meet at a grocery store or bar, I’m “Caleb” or “son.” Bob Rawlins is due to retire in six months. He’s done his time, and he’s seen and been through shit that eats at my gut. Seven years ago, Bob found out his partner of over fifteen years was a dirty cop. What’s worse, he found out one night when he was picking his kid up from football practice and saw the local drug dealer up against the wall with his partner’s hand around his throat. Bob was about to go and assist him when the drug dealer handed his partner a thick envelope. From what I’d heard from the powers above, Bob took it upon himself to investigate his partner, and the more he dug, the worse it got.
It seems the partner he relied on to have his back was on the take, and the major drug dealers of the city were paying him off to look the other way or to tip them off when he knew a raid was coming. Needless to say, his partner was dismissed. After that, Bob decided he was going to stick to desk work. He didn’t want another partner. Word is he didn’t want to have to trust another fellow officer.
“Thanks, Officer Rawlins. We’ll be there in a minute,” I respond.
“I put the Maddens and their representation down the hall, in room two,” Rawlins says before taking his leave.
I glance at Damian and Alex. “All set?”
“Damn straight,” Damian replies.
* * *
“Mrs. Madden, can you tell me how you came to know about Jasmine Belfour’s existence?” I ask. Christie looks at her lawyer, waiting for him to nod before speaking. Her blonde hair is up in a neat chignon, her makeup is perfect, but her blue eyes hold sadness.
“My husband, Gregory, told me about her. He came home from work early one day, told me he needed to speak with me urgently, took me into the den, and explained that he’d just found out he had a daughter,” Christie explains.
“How long ago, ma’am?” Damian asks.
“Three months ago.”
“That must have been quite a shock,” I say. “Miss Madden, were you present when your father relayed the news to your mother?” I defer to Paris, who is seated beside her mother. She’s a Christie clone, with the blonde locks and blue eyes, only her hair is cascading down her back. A perfect picture, just like her mother.
“I was not. I didn’t find out until a few weeks later,” Paris says.
“Why is that?”
“Mom and Dad wanted to make sure this wasn’t some sort of hoax. People go after wealthy people all the time trying to extort money. They wanted to check it out before I knew,” Paris explains.
“That makes a lot of sense,” Damian says. “He must have confirmed he has a daughter, then, for you to have been told.”
“No, what we have is a birth certificate from a hospital with Gregory Madden’s name on it. This does not conclusively prove that Miss Belfour is Gregory’s child,” the lawyer interjects.
“Understood, but both Mrs. Madden and her husband were aware of Miss Belfour, and therefore, someone must have told Paris,” I say. “How did you find out?” I direct my question to Paris.
“My parents were talking, and I overheard their conversation from the hallway,” she says.
“Your father’s lawyer, Nick Davis, is convinced that Miss Belfour is Gregory’s biological daughter and is representing her for her part of the inheritance,” I say.
Christie folds her arms over her chest, subconsciously shutting down.
Her lawyer speaks on her behalf. “That’s not a question, Detective Thorne.”
I lay it out on the line, “There have been several attempts made on Miss Belfour’s life, the latest one happening yesterday afternoon. Further to this information, I recently found out that your husband’s heart attack may have been induced by a narcotic drug. Which means his death might not have been an accident.”
