43
Raphael entered the hospital lobby, dialed John Carroll’s number, and waited for him to answer.
“Hello,” said the gruff voice.
“John Carroll?”
“Who wants to know?”
“John, this is Raphael; Mimi’s husband.”
Raphael heard John groan. There was a long pause before John spoke again.
“How did you get my number?”
“Mimi gave it to me. I need to get some air and I remembered your offer to go for some beers. I’m at that moment.”
John hesitated and then cleared his throat. “I’m busy right now. Maybe some other time.”
“I understand, man, but I do need to talk. My daughter is in the hospital, and the person who did this is still at-large. My hands are tied, and I need a friendly male ear to sound off my frustrations.”
“I can take a break. Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”
JOHN PULLED IN FRONT OF THE HOSPITAL AND DIALED RAPHAEL at the number that was recorded in his phone. His first impression of Raphael was that he was full of himself because he was a high-ranking officer in the military. He carried his stripes on his shoulders and John was his stepstool. John was surprised to receive Raphael’s phone call.
John watched the tall, rugged man in a pair of khakis pants, a blue and yellow polo shirt, and a short tan London Fog jacket approach his Ford Explorer. Raphael’s eyes were well hidden behind a pair of Giorgio Armani sunglasses, but John knew he was being inspected by the Colonel by the way he rotated his face as he looked at his SUV and then at him as he peered inside the open window.
Raphael opened the door to the vehicle not giving a second thought that it might be someone other than John in it.
“John, my man,” Raphael said as if he and John had been old friends. He jumped in and extended his hand.
John hesitated and decided to put what unspoken differences they had aside, at least for the moment. “Good afternoon, Colonel.”
“Raphael will do just fine. John, I need to go someplace where I can think and sort this whole matter out. You got me?”
John put the car in gear and headed away from the hospital. “I think I do.”
“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Didn’t mean to scrutinize you the way I did. I’m overprotective of Mimi. She’s my life…my world; she’s been through a lot.”
John shot Raphael a look. Mimi made it seem that life with Raphael was a fairy tale dream come true—the handsome prince and the beautiful princess. Maybe Raphael was alluding to the present stress Mimi was under with Afrika being shot. He sat back and listened. “It’s cool; no hard feelings,” John said matter-of-factly.
Raphael was silent for the next few minutes and looked straight ahead. John checked him from the corner of his eye to see if he was still breathing.
“This place is very progressive,” Raphael finally said, as they rode through Raleigh and finally into the North Hills shopping area.
“Luxury condos—I’m sure they cost a cool million with the nice restaurants and luxury hotels serving as its welcome mat. The recession isn’t hurting everyone.”
“I can see that.”
“How about the Fox and Hound Pub for some cold brews?”
“I’m game.”
John led the way into the restaurant with its twenty-eight television screens serving as borders along the wall and a tournament size pool table that made John itch to rack ’em and hit ’em. Whatever was on Raphael’s mind was temporarily thwarted by the scantily-clothed barmaid whose triple D’s were tipping over her top like the foam in the beer mug she was handing to a customer, John noticed. They were shown to their seats, took off their jackets, ordered two mugs of beer and wings, and listened to the chatter that surrounded them.
“So what’s on your mind?” John asked, getting to the point.
“Frustrated, man. My daughter is lying in a hospital bed because some crazy lunatic that belongs behind bars shot her for no reason, and all I can do is stand by helpless. If I had an ounce of a clue, I’d be out on the street now looking for that coward to put him out of his misery.”
John leaned his body forward, his elbows on the table and his hands cupped together as if he was getting ready to let Raphael in on an important secret. Then he let his hands drop and rapped the table with his fingers, pausing a moment to formulate his words. “I know you’re used to being the man in control, but let the police handle their business.” John paused again, but decided to go for it. “Mimi and Afrika are going to need you.”
Raphael looked at John and stewed on the information for a minute. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’m angry, man. I left my family behind, believing they were going to be fine on American soil. I was going overseas to fight a war, but damn, I never thought the war would be on the college campus where my daughter had chosen to go to school. And I wasn’t even there to protect her.” Raphael slapped the table.
“We can’t always protect the ones we love. I’m going to tell you something that might get me into a lot of trouble, but you need to know.”
“What is it?” Raphael asked, his eyebrows raised and giving John his full attention.
“Mimi purchased a gun.”
Raphael’s eyes penetrated John’s until John looked away. “My wife purchased a gun…and she didn’t tell me?” Raphael finally asked and then paused to think. “For what reason would she purchase a gun? Tell me, John; you seem to have all the answers.”
“Look, Raphael; it’s not like you think.”
“What’s not like I think? You’re doing all the talking and you sure as hell know a lot more than I do.”
“Let me start from the beginning. Mimi was my girlfriend in college.”
“Oh hell. You must be on the missing pages in Mimi’s scrap-book.”
“Excuse me. Two beers and wings,” the waitress interrupted.
“Thank you,” John said, lacing his hand around one of the mugs and thanking God for the small interruption. The talk with Raphael had gotten twisted—John had violated Mimi’s trust, but now he had to go for it because Raphael was staring at him with iron eyes, and John could see the muscles in Raphael’s face contract as he processed what John said. Even the muscles under Raphael’s shirt were flexed. John took a sip of his beer to calm his nerves, but the other beer sat on the table untouched.
“You’ve been stalking her?” Raphael asked, his mouth clinched and grinding his teeth.
“Stalking her? No,” John said. Then it came to him; he believed that he understood what Raphael was making reference to.
“Mimi called me one night and told me that she saw this guy who used to harass her in college. When you came into the room yesterday and Mimi said you were old college friends, I assumed it was you that she had referred to.”
“No, she wasn’t talking about me.”
“Well, if it wasn’t you she was talking about, then who?”
Why had he tried to be the negotiator? John had opened Pandora’s box, and there was no way he could lie about what he knew because he wouldn’t be able to keep the facts straight. John looked at Raphael and decided he would skirt as far away from Mimi’s secret as possible. It wasn’t his to tell and he’d already given up too much information.
Raphael picked up his beer and drank half without stopping, the foam making a visible moustache when he came up for air. “You going to tell me, man?” Raphael asked.
“Victor Christianson.”
John watched Raphael as he seemed to roll the name over in his head—like it was a name he’d heard before but couldn’t remember where. “Christianson?” Raphael asked.
John didn’t try and connect the dots for Raphael. Instead, he picked up a hot wing and began to munch on it.
Snap, snap went Raphael’s fingers as John continued to tear at the meat. “Mimi’s best friend…Christianson…that’s it.” Raphael continued to marinate on a possible connection…the wheels turning ever so slowly in his head.
Licking sauce from his fingers, John dove in and picked up another wing and began to gnaw on it. Somewhere between breaking news story and Victor Christianson, John snapped his head backward and faced the wall of television screens along with the two dozen other patrons, his eyes glued on the image of Victor. The newscaster was in the middle of her teleprompter scripted dialogue when John caught up with the commentary that linked it to the picture.
“If you have any information on the whereabouts of Victor Christianson, please call CRIMESTOPPERS at the number posted at the bottom of your screen. Again, Victor Christianson, Director of Admissions at North Carolina Central University, is being sought as the key suspect in the shooting on the campus of NCCU of student Afrika Nicole Bailey, that occurred at the end of NCCU’s Saturday afternoon football game. Again, this was not a random shooting. This is Charlotte Wilson reporting to you live from Raleigh for WTVD Eyewitness News.”
The chill rolled the numbness off of the room as the patrons slowly returned to their private conversations at their individual booths, at the pool table where a pool stick was now raised in preparation to hit an eight ball in a side pocket, and at the bar where the bartender, who had temporarily closed the lid on the beer tap because she was entrenched in the story, was back to the business of serving beer. The chill had rolled off of everyone except Raphael, the victim’s father, who sat in utter silence…in shock, baffled by what he’d heard.
Raphael looked straight at John who was stuffing yet another wing into his mouth. “Why would he want to shoot Afrika?”
John finally put the remnant of the chicken wing down on the plate when he saw the anger in Raphael’s eyes. “It had to be a random act of violence, man. Hopefully, they’ll catch his ass soon.”
“I’m ready to go back to the hospital,” Raphael said without expression. “I need some answers.
John scrambled for his coat, pulled out a twenty and some ones from his wallet, and laid them on the table. “I got this man; let’s go.”
The air was thick in the car as silence lay between John and Raphael. John moved to turn on the radio, but a large hand waved him off. Traffic moved along well, and John pushed his SUV as fast as it would go without exceeding the speed limit. This was not his battle; this was Mimi’s husband, and she needed to do the explaining. All this Victor stuff had unearthed more than John really knew.
John’s anxiety seemed to evaporate as he approached the hospital. He couldn’t wait to get rid of his passenger. As he pulled to the curb, John kept his foot on the brake as Raphael got out. “If you need me again, holler.”
“Aren’t you coming in?” Raphael asked.