58
Butterflies flitted about Sheila’s empty stomach, causing it to rumble every two minutes. Police were scattered throughout her section, collecting what they called possible evidence and interviewing members of the administration. They had yet to ask her any more questions, but she was grateful. It might have been that what she offered to the black and white detectives earlier had been enough.
Unable to concentrate on her work, Sheila got up to go use the bathroom but was happy to see Phyllis as she rounded the corner. With the back side of her hand, Phyllis shooed Sheila back to her seat as if she had been sent to deliver a secret message for Sheila’s ears only.
“What’s up?” Sheila asked, her nerves getting the best of her. “I can’t think with all this extra activity going on around here.”
“Girl, they’re questioning everybody about Victor’s behavior in the last few weeks. Hmph, I’ve got nothing to say because I don’t know anything. Not a thing to tell.”
“I keep thinking about what happened at the house. What if he died from one of the bullets I clipped him with?”
“Sheila, you’re going to worry yourself to death. Victor would have been laying on the sidewalk if you had inflicted any bodily harm on him. If I recall, your beautiful walls have now become bullet art.” Phyllis let out a small laugh.
“Phyllis, it’s not funny at all. My stomach is all in knots from worry.”
“Girl, you have nothing to be worried about. The police have to find the murder weapon, and once they do, you’ll be home free.”
“Easy for you to say. I was the one playing the madwoman, acting like I was Jessica James and the outlaws.”
“Sheila, you are too funny.”
“Phyllis, I’m not laughing. What if the bullet I hit Victor with killed him?”
“If that’s the case, how is it that they found him on the other side of Durham?”
“Phyllis, I don’t know. Somehow I feel partially responsible for Victor’s demise.”
“Listen up, Sheila, you are still carrying the HIV virus and Victor doesn’t get off because his slimy ass is dead in somebody’s morgue. His time was coming, but I don’t believe you were the one that brought that monster to his end.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I am. So chin up and stop pouting like somebody stole your knock-off Prada bag. Guess what? You don’t have to move out of your condo.”
“Phyllis, you know you ain’t right.”
“I got you to smile, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but only for a second. Don’t turn around.”
“What is it, Sheila?” Phyllis asked, twisting her body so she could see what had interrupted Sheila’s developing good mood.
“I told you not to turn around.”
“Look, girl, got to go. Ring me later.”
Sheila watched as Phyllis sashayed away from her desk and Detectives Marshall and Samuels approached her desk. She noticed how Marshall eyed her, outlining her body with his eyes. He wasn’t her type, even if she were to put out an APB on Match.com for a man to wine and dine her. She’d only given him a sideways glance because some of his handsome was still there and he typified the kind of man Phyllis would fall for.
Sheila pushed her nervousness to the center of her stomach and extended a hand. “So you two gentlemen are back. What can I do for you this time?”
“You seem very confident in yourself, Ms. Sheila Atkins soon to be Mrs. Sheila Billops,” Marshall said, studying her body language closely.
Sheila dropped her head back in surprise. “Scared of you. Your memory serves you well.”
“That it does, Ms. Atkins. I remember asking you about the last time you saw Victor Christianson, too. Do you remember what your response was?”
There was a pause and Sheila exhaled, sizing Marshall up while straying only a second to peek at Samuels who appeared uninterested. She tried to put a finger on the angle Marshall was coming from, but whatever it was, she could smell the trap.
“Since you’re all knowing, why don’t you tell me what I said?” was Sheila’s response.
Marshall smiled. “I like you.”
Sheila looked between him and Samuels without breaking a crack on her face. Her nerves were unraveling and whatever they had come for, she wanted them to get to it and be on their way.
“How may I help you detectives?” Sheila asked again.
This time Samuels spoke up. “In the event you are unaware, your boss, Victor Christianson was found murdered last night.” Sheila nodded. “We received a call today about an argument that transpired between you and the deceased, Victor Christianson, on yesterday that had gunfire to go with it.”
A lump formed in Sheila’s throat and she swallowed hard. “An argument between me and Victor Christianson? He didn’t come to work yesterday,” Sheila hastily said.
“Who said it was at work, Mrs. Atkins?” Samuels said, stepping up to the side of her desk and sucking up the air between them.
Sheila sighed. “Damn, damn, damn, damn.” Tears began to form in her eyes and she grabbed her face before she could make a puddle on the desk. “I didn’t kill Victor Christianson. Yes, I saw him yesterday evening when he stopped by my house.”
“So why don’t you tell us what happened,” Marshall said, pulling up a chair that sat off to the side of Sheila’s desk. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Sheila dropped her head and wiped the water that kept streaming down her face. “It all started when I received a letter in the mail from the health department. The letter contained the results of my blood work. Jamal and I were supposed to get married this weekend.
“When I opened the letter and read the contents, I thought someone had blown my brains out at close range. There on the piece of paper in black and white were the words ‘HIV positive.’”
Marshall stiffened in his seat and Samuels took a step backward.
“I was livid, mad, pissed off, angry…because I understood too well what the words meant,” Sheila continued. “It was like telling a cancer patient they had only two weeks to live. It was a death sentence and there was only one person who could be responsible.”
“How can you be sure?” Marshall asked with a straight face and without sympathy in his words.
“Because, detective, Victor was the only person I’d been with for the last five years, except for Jamal. And contrary to what you might believe, I’m not a promiscuous woman.”
“I’m sure you were aware that Mr. Christianson was a married man.”
“I was, however that doesn’t make me promiscuous.”
Marshall rolled his eyes in Samuels’ direction. Samuels shrugged his shoulders slightly and spoke up.
“Why couldn’t this Jamal guy have given you ahh…the sentence of death, as you call it?”
“Because he and I used protection,” Sheila said, not happy with this line of questioning.
“That’s strange to me,” Samuels countered. “You and Christianson didn’t use protection, but Jamal comes along, and you use protection. Makes no sense to me. What makes him better than Christianson?”
“Because,” Sheila began with clenched teeth, then tried to soften it a little, “Victor wanted sex in the natural. He didn’t like rub…I mean prophylactics. And, of course, I went along with it because he set me up in my condo and who was I to complain? Yes, I enjoyed it, too. Now, Jamal was someone I met six months ago, and while things started out innocent enough, we fell in love.”
“So you had a sugar daddy you strung along and a real man that you were going to marry until you received the bad news, news so bad you wanted to hurt the person who had done this horrible deed that the letter indicated to you,” Marshall cut in.
“You want to know the truth, detectives?” Sheila jumped up from her seat and Samuels jumped back, not sure what Sheila was about to do. She wagged her finger at them and made Marshall get up from his seat. “Hell yeah, I wanted to kill Victor. He deserved the same sentence he gave me—death. I was angry because I finally found someone who loved me for me and we were going to be married. And then I received this letter stating I was HIV positive and to notify my sexual partners. Partners? Hell, Victor was the only person I was having casual sex with on the regular without protection. I wonder if his wife knows?”
“Someone should tell her,” Marshall said, staring straight into Sheila’s soul.
“I don’t deserve to die. I’m a good person. I’m a good worker—check my performance appraisals.” Sheila huffed and sighed. “I didn’t kill him. I have a witness.”
“Witness?” Samuels asked.
“Yes, my co-worker, Phyllis…the girl who walked out as you all were coming in,” Sheila said in a daze. “She was at my house when Victor stopped by and she witnessed the whole thing. Yes, I fired some shots at Victor, but that was the first time I had ever fired a gun. Check my house; I’m sure the bullets are still lodged in the walls.”
Sheila stopped and then sat down in her chair. She looked like she was thinking. Then she looked at the two detectives who were looking anxiously at her. “I did hit his arm or elbow. Victor screamed like a flying monkey, and that’s when he decided to take his ass out of my house. He started cursing at me, and do you know what he was worried about? You won’t believe it.”
“Try us,” Marshall said, sitting back down in the seat he had vacated.
“The a*shole was mad because I made a hole in his designer jacket. Can you believe that?”
Samuels began to laugh and so did Marshall. Sheila looked at them and hunched her shoulders. “He did. And he called me a bunch of dirty names.”
“I understand you called him a bunch back,” Samuels said, still laughing.
“Nosey Miss Pomeroy tell you that? I know it was her; she has nothing else to do but get in people’s business. But she got the story right.”
“She likes you a lot,” Samuels said. “In fact, she didn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“She means well,” Sheila said. “Her grandson put her in a nice condo and left her there. I don’t think she has many visitors.”
“Where’s the gun you used to shoot Christianson?” Marshall asked.
“At my house.”
Marshall looked at Samuels and then said, “Ms. Atkins, I believe you’re telling the truth, but we need to see the gun and the bullet holes at your house.”
“I’m ready to get this over with; let’s go,” Sheila said.
“It’s long from being over, Miss Atkins,” Samuels said. “We’re just getting started. One thing may lead to another. We need to talk to your co-worker.”
Panick was stricken on Sheila’s face. “I don’t want to get her into any trouble.”
“She’s a witness and we have to ask her a few questions. We need to see if she remembers the story as you did. It’s all part of our preliminary investigation,” Samuels said.
Marshall and Samuels did not move from their respective places. “We need to talk to this Phyllis now,” Marshall said to Sheila.
“I’ll call her.”