My Sister's Fear Page 3

  "Really Mom, now, when we have company?"

  "I wanted them here, Divine. I need it witnessed. These two risked their lives for Jasmine, and since then they've been like family to her, so I wanted them to know what's going on. I'm done fighting about this. Jasmine is staying here and you can go back to New York or LA or where ever the next reprobate that catches your eye takes you. You're my daughter and I love you, but I won't let you drag Jasmine around the country and be exposed to the riffraff you surround yourself with. Cletus Johnson was completely your fault, not Jasmine's. She's a child and you’re her mother, it's supposed to be you that protects her. But starting today, I'm going to be her legal guardian until she turns eighteen."

  "Jasmine, is this really what you want?" Tears slid down Divine's beautiful chiseled cheekbones, and I couldn't help feeling bad for her.

  "Yeah Mom, this is home, it's steady and there's no craziness. I love you, but I really want to stay here. You can visit whenever you want, but I won't go to New York or anywhere else."

  "But what about your Dad? He wants to meet you, he was planning on flying to New York, or down here if need be."

  "Maybe sometime. Maybe I'll come for a visit after a while or he can come here. Just sign the damn papers, please?"

  There were several pages, and she went through them quickly, scratching out her signature and sniffing through tears occasionally. When she finished, she stood and put her arms around Jasmine, clinging to her. "I'm only doing this for you Jasmine, you know that, right?"

  "Sure Mom, thank you, really. Want to go meet my horse? Maggie, want to come too?"

  I stood there awkwardly and watched the three of them walk out the door, then turned back to Maryanne.

  "Don't worry about signing anything for now, Eric. My lawyers will deal with it. I'll say one thing, that daughter of mine is a good actress. Too bad she had to do it with her legs in the air, she might have amounted to something."

  "Sorry Maryanne, not really sure what to say about that one."

  "Anything happens to me in the next year Slater, and you and Maggie will be Jasmine's legal guardians, presuming you're willing. My granddaughter loves you both and Divine doesn't want anything to do with her, not really. I offered her a pile of cash, and she just signed all her rights away, didn't bat an eye or have to think about it. Don't waste your time feeling bad for her, those tears weren't real. I don't know where I went wrong with her, but she's just a gorgeous empty vessel without any soul as far as I can tell. Jasmine is a good person, and I want her to be around good people."

  "Why would anything happen to you?" I asked nervously.

  She laughed. "Don't worry, I have no intention of leaving you with an obstinate seventeen-year old girl if I can help it. I'm not sick, I don't have cancer or any terminal disease. I plan to be around for another thirty, forty years. But I didn't get where I am by not preparing for the unexpected. If I had the big one tomorrow, Divine would get half of my money, but the rest would go to Jasmine. I trust you and my lawyers a hell of a lot more than that irresponsible daughter of mine to take care of my granddaughter and my business should something happen to me. Divine is bad enough, but she continually surrounds herself with drug addicts and greedy men. I don't think she's quite the successful business woman she claims to be, she jumped on my offer of money pretty quickly."

  "I'll talk to Maggie, but I'm sure we could work it out, heaven forbid, anything happened to you."

  Maryanne smiled mischievously. "How's that going? You and Maggie?"

  "She's holding back, says she wants to be sure. I'm sure, but I've got nothing but time and she's worth waiting for. She says it's about her divorce, but I think the thing with her Dad messed her up more than she wants to admit."

  "She's an incredible woman."

  "That she is Maryanne, and so are you. You have to know Jasmine knows that."

  "Thanks Slater, she's a good girl. I'll get the paperwork together for you and Maggie to sign and then I'll call you. I need to get back to work, say Hi to Dolly for me."

  "I hate that stupid horse." I shared as I left her office.

  Chapter Four

  Tommy Ackerman's office was in downtown Jacksonville, and Maggie and I managed to get there twenty minutes late. I didn't believe the GPS on Maggie's phone and got us a little lost; a guy thing, I'm told. His office was on the ground floor of a small commercial building in a renovated district of the downtown area, very plush, spacious and expensive if I had to guess.

  His receptionist, or legal-aid according to the plaque on his desk, was a tall gawky looking young man that asked us to take a seat. Maggie sat down and I wandered around the office a little, looking at some of the paintings on the wall and the pair of sculptures that stood on either side of the entry door. Both were half high wood carved statues of women, black women, depicted in different types of labor. One carried a jug on her shoulder, and the other had a bundle of sticks strapped to her back. I had seen similar depictions before, but the statuettes were intricate beyond belief, undoubtedly carved from the dark Mahogany by some patient craftsman with a tiny chisel and mallet. Even the dark eyes, somehow carefully gouged into the wood, managed to be full of expression, imparting a sense of haunting sorrow and weariness.

  I'm no Art critic. I never understood Picasso, and I always thought Monet painted fuzzy pictures because it was easier. And there's the Mona Lisa. That's it, that's all I know about Art, but those statues blew me away. After a few weeks of playing carpenter I was developing an appreciation for anything wood, and I couldn't fathom the patience it must have taken to create something so perfect. When I knelt down to look closer, Maggie walked over and I started explaining to her how difficult it must have been to make the statues without fracturing the wood. We were both crouching in front of the depiction of the woman with the bundle on her back, when Camille Akerman walked in.

  "I'm sorry, I'm really late, you must think I'm rude or scatterbrained." She apologized.

  "We were late too, we just got here. Slater doesn't trust technology so we drove around the block a few times." Maggie said.

  "She picks on me continually, but I don't take it personally." I assured Camille.

  "He knows how much I love him, he just puts on a show." The redhead chuckled.

  "These statues are unbelievable." I said as I stood up.

  "My uncle did those, and he's the reason we wanted to talk to you." She turned to the receptionist. "Jarrod, tell Tom I'm here, and that we're coming back, okay?"

  "Will do Mrs. Ackerman." He hesitated. "Mister Slater, would you please tell Jasmine I said hello?"

  "Sure, Jarrod, is it?"

  "Yes sir, Jarrod Kinsley."

  "I'll tell her." Maggie poked me as we walked back to Tommy's office, and snickered. I shrugged. "Beats the bag boy at Safeway."

  Tommy Ackerman sat behind his desk and shook our hands again. "Hi guys, I'm glad you could meet us here. I didn't want to discuss this in front of Angela, considering everything. Maggie, if anything we're talking about makes you uncomfortable just say so."

  "Everyone's been tiptoeing around what my father did Tommy. I'd prefer it wasn't common knowledge, not to protect him, but to protect Angela. He was a sick bastard, plain and simple. But Angela shouldn't have to suffer through being looked at and talked about because her father molested her. I appreciate your discretion where she's concerned, but I'm fine. You can tell us whatever this is about and it won't upset me or drum up memories of my Dad. He's gone, good riddance."

  I knew it wasn't that simple, but there was a time and place for everything. "So, your Uncle, Camille? How can we help you with that?"

  "Alright, kind of a long story. My Uncle's name is Wallace, Wallace Weston. He's always been a little odd, and maybe that's why he's artistic. My Mom swears that he couldn't have done anything to that girl, and there's no evidence, but it looks bad. Let me start from the beginning. Uncle Wally had one girlfriend his whole life, then he got drafted and went to Vietnam. He was wounded and lo
st his leg, most of it anyway, well above the knee, and by the time he came back, his girlfriend had married someone else and moved away. He's never even looked at another woman since. Our family is from over north of Tallahassee, a little town just across the Georgia line. Not an area known for its progressive politics. Racism is still alive and well there."

  "Just to be clear, we don't know for sure that racism played a part in what happened." Tommy put in. "Granted, it does seem likely."

  Camille continued. "After Vietnam, Wally went home, stayed in the same town and still lives in the same house where he grew up. My grandparents died years ago, so he inherited their house, and he refuses to leave it, says it's the only home he's ever known. The house is right across the road from a Middle school, and there's a High school just down the block. That's how he got to know Lilly."

  "This part is why I thought it best to talk here, without Angela around. The circumstances of the allegations are similar enough that I thought it might be a trigger of sorts for her. Are you sure you're okay with this Maggie?" Tommy interjected.

  "I can imagine where this is headed." Maggie nodded. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

  "My uncle is on a pension, and with the house and everything, he's been able to make a living with his carvings. He got kind of a reputation as an artist in the area, so he would work on his carvings in the garage with the door open to the street, since he didn't have a car and the light was good. People would come all the way from Pensacola to buy his carvings, so he usually kept the garage door open so they could find the place.

  I don't really know the whole story, just what my Mom told me. Being the Middle school was right there, the kids coming and going would wave and some would stop to watch him carve. Lilly Franklin, she walked by every day and she must have been an Art nut, because before long she's there a lot and they became friends. Granted, old guy and a young girl, I'm sure people's tongues were wagging. If she'd been a white girl, someone would have put a stop to it right away, that's just the mentality around there. But she's black, and her home life wasn't great, so my Uncle let her hang around. At least he always kept the garage door open when she was over there, he had that much presence of mind."

  "Middle school? How old?" I asked.

  "She was fourteen when it started. I mean her hanging around, there was never anything inappropriate. She came by every day and watched, then he started letting her help, and she just kept showing up. My Mom went up there to help him out and check on things about a year ago, and she met Lilly. Lilly would have been seventeen then. Mom said Wally adored Lilly, but like a father or a mentor because of the sculpting. That was the impression my Mom got, and I'm fairly sure that was all there was to it."

  "Fairly sure?" I asked.

  "My uncle has always been a little odd, and when he got hurt in Vietnam and lost part of his leg, we think there might have been some brain damage too. Of course, I wasn't alive yet. My mother was the youngest in the family and Wally is a lot older than her. But my mother and grandmother both said that he was never the same after he came back. The VA could never diagnose anything, but he's always had these episodes, times when he talks about random things that don't make sense, like he's somewhere else or has forgotten where he is and is trying to make sense of it. He is very smart, but something is off. Sometimes he loses big stretches of time."

  "And you think, during one of these stretches, that he may have done something to this young girl?"

  "He called my mother a couple months ago. He was in a shelter in Charleston, South Carolina, no money and no recollection of how he got there."

  "So, if he did something to her, he might not remember it?"

  "That's why I said fairly sure, I can't be positive that he didn't do something. When the trouble started, my Mom and I went up there, and he denied knowing anything about what had happened to Lilly, but it was weird. I felt like he was holding something back. I couldn't be sure he wasn't having one of those episodes. Now things have only gotten worse, after the beating." Camille drew a breath, near tears. "He refuses to leave there, says Lilly may come back and that he needs to be there in case she needs him. Sometimes, when he's confused, he calls her Lainey. Elaine was his girlfriend's name before Vietnam."

  "Take it easy Camille, I can tell them the rest." Tommy leaned forward and Camille took his hand. "About two, two and a half weeks ago this Lilly girl disappeared. Apparently, she lived with her father and he drinks a lot and didn't report it at first. Finally, when the Sherriff gets wind of it, he starts asking questions and it comes out that the girl has been hanging around at Wallace's place a lot. The Sherriff asks Wally what he knows and he clams up, says he doesn't know anything, so the Sherriff asks if he can look around the place."

  "Needed his lawyer about then, right?" I said.

  "Yes and no. Sherriff Henderson is a good guy, but when a possible suspect says sure come on in and look around, he isn't about to turn down the invitation. First thing he finds is a long note from the girl, sitting right there on the end table next to Wally's reading lamp. It says Lilly is sorry and she loves Wally more than she can say, but that she has to leave town. The Sherriff pointed out the fact that it went into some lengths detailing her affections for Wally and that it was obvious they were very close."

  "And now no one can find her?" Maggie asked.

  "She's eighteen, legally she can go wherever she wants. I talked to the Sherriff and there were no signs of foul play. With no reason to think otherwise, the Sherriff would have just dropped it. Eighteen-year old girls strike out on their own all the time, but her Dad started making a stink. He claimed Wally had been molesting her for years and that she had finally told him about it and that Wally had killed her to shut her up."

  "And the note?"

  "Wally would have made her write it of course, right before he killed her and buried her in the back yard." Tommy said sarcastically.

  "Okay, so do you want us to find this girl, or do you think it's remotely possible that Wally did something to her?" Maggie asked.

  "No way he hurt her, absolutely not." Camille jumped back in. "But her father ran around town spreading rumors, saying Uncle Wally was molesting her the whole time she was helping him sculpt. Pretty soon all the school kids going by are throwing stuff and calling him a pervert, breaking his heart. A few days ago, some guys caught him in his garage in the evening and beat the hell out of him, put him in the hospital for two days. My mother went up there, but she can't stay and he refuses to come home with her. Like I said, he still thinks Lilly might need him. He hasn't even been sculpting much, he just sits there and waves at the kids that walk by and call him names. That's what hurts him the most, he loved that those kids used to watch him sculpt, and now they all hate him because of something he never did. All he wants is to work on his Art and to be able to die in the house he grew up in, it's not fair." Camille broke down and sat crying into her hands.

  Tommy looked at me solemnly. "Bottom line Slater, we can't say with a hundred percent certainty that something didn't happen to this girl. It's remotely possible that Wallace had one of his memory lapses and something bad happened, maybe he did do something to the girl. That seems unlikely, but right now he's presumed guilty by everyone in that little town until we can prove differently. He won't talk to us, and if he knows where Lilly is, he won't tell the Sherriff. The girl's father is an ass and he keeps throwing around unfounded accusations and stirring up the town. The guy should be thanking Wally, he basically kept an eye on his daughter for the last four years while he sat in the bar. And Wally taught her to sculpt to boot."

  "Just sounds like a girl sick of her old man and hometown to me. She's eighteen, she can come and go as she wants. Was she still in school?"

  "She was supposed to graduate this Spring. The Sherriff did say he thought it was suspicious was that her cellphone went completely dead, so he checked that much out at least."

  Camille spoke up again. "I just want my uncle to be able to sell his Art and be left in peace.
Unless we can prove he didn't do anything to Lilly, the whole town is going to continue hating him and something worse is going to happen. It still isn't easy being a black man in Georgia, no matter what they say on the five o'clock news. There are people that hate him just for the color of his skin, much less thinking he's a child molester or a murderer."

  Tommy leaned forward. "We want you to go up there as soon as possible, you and Maggie. The Sherriff doesn't think Wallace did anything to her and he just wants to move on, but that might not save Camille's uncle from another beating or worse if this doesn't get straightened out. Ideally, you find Lilly, prove to the town that Wally didn't do anything bad to her, and he can go on with his life. The whole deal just seems odd, her leaving suddenly without telling her father or Wally where she was going. There has to be more to it."

  "There's always more to it, especially when there's a teenager involved." I said.

  Maggie poked me with an elbow and laughed. "He almost said teenage girl, but he's evolving."

  We worked out the details: the town, the Sherriff's phone number, and Wally's address. As soon as possible would be later that day. We both had things to take care of before leaving town, and we weren't sure how long we would be gone.

  "I'll call and explain that you're going coming. My Mom had to come back today, but I'll explain it all to him." Camille said as she held the door open for us. "Hopefully he'll remember and be willing to talk to you."

  We walked out into the outer office and I looked at the sculptures again. The lanky young man behind the desk waved as we opened the door to leave.

  "Don't forget to tell Jasmine I said Hi, okay?"

  I pulled the door shut and gave Maggie a smile. "Teenagers, they're all trouble."