LaToya: Episode XXX – Curtains of Deception

  

With my back pressed against the wall and the window drapes concealing me, I waited anxiously. I heard Sergeant Montgomery's heavy footsteps pounding across the landing as he entered the next room. He spent a few minutes in there, but to me, it felt like an eternity. Then, I heard him exit and move into another room.

My nerves were on edge because I kept imagining what would happen if they caught me. From my hiding spot, I could see into the garden. The three patrolmen were still wandering around aimlessly, so escaping through the garden wasn’t an option. Sergeant Montgomery seemed to believe I wasn't in the house, which was my last hope. I prayed hard that he wouldn't look too carefully.

I heard the door jerk open, followed by the sound of him grunting as he switched on the light. He left the door open as he walked out again.

"Hey, Lieutenant!" he called out, "Can you come up here?"

I peeked out from behind the curtain. He was leaning over the railing of the stairway, with his back to me. But just as I was watching him, he turned around, so I quickly let the curtain fall back into place. A few seconds later, I heard Lieutenant Brandon enter the room.

"This is where the Mexican housekeeper was shot," Sergeant Montgomery said, pointing to the bloodstains on the rug. "And look, the murderer placed his gun down on the bed, as you can see."

"Better get Vakiner up here for prints," Lieutenant Brandon responded. "I'm heading back to headquarters. I need to make sure this Emeka guy doesn't slip away from us. You stay put until I give you the all-clear."

The door remained open as the two men left the room. I waited until I heard them go downstairs, then swiftly moved across the room, opened a door on the landing, and slipped into a front spare bedroom. I closed the door behind me, stumbled over to the open window, and looked out into the street.

Outside, I saw three police cars and an ambulance. On the opposite sidewalk, a large crowd of men and women had gathered, some of them dressed for the evening. Four or five patrolmen stood with their backs to the crowd, keeping a watchful eye on the house.

I knew I couldn't climb down the stack pipe into the garden with all those people watching, so I quietly returned to the door, opened it just a crack, and waited.

Sergeant Montgomery and another plain-clothes officer came up the stairs and entered Mr. Powell’s bedroom.

Sergeant Montgomery turned to Vakiner and said, "Find as many prints as you can. No one seems to have been in the other rooms. I need to talk to the news people. Let's get this done, Vakiner."

The other man grunted in acknowledgment as Sergeant Montgomery headed back downstairs.

I waited in the darkness for more than half an hour before Sergeant Montgomery returned and went back into Mr. Powell’s bedroom.

“I’m through now,” the fingerprint man reported. “I’ve only found Mr. Powell’s and his Mexican housekeeper’s prints.”

“Well, okay,” Sergeant Montgomery responded, his voice tinged with worry. “Lieutenant Brandon wants us back. They still haven’t found Emeka. He can’t have gotten out of town. The lieutenant wants a written report tonight. Nothing ever goes my way! I’m leaving a couple of men here. We’ll go over the place again in daylight.”

They went downstairs together.

I quietly got up from the step and looked down the hall. The Mexican housekeeper's body had already been taken away. Sergeant Montgomery and three other men, not in uniform, were gathered by the front door.

Sergeant Montgomery addressed the beefy patrolman who had just come in from the street. “Okay, Popoola. I’ll be back around nine. You stay put and keep an eye out. Don’t let anyone in after we leave. Simond is patrolling outside. I told him to keep the press away, but some of those punks are smart enough to try sneaking in when he’s out back. No one should come in until I return. Got it?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

 Sergeant Montgomery growled, "If anyone gets in, you'll regret it." The other three officers followed him down the steps.

Popoola shut and locked the front door, standing watch. When the sound of the police cars faded, he pushed his cap to the back of his head, pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, and walked into the lounge. A few seconds later, the soft dance music from a late-night radio station floated up the stairs.

I went back to Mr. Powell's room, struggling to reach the window. Once there, I looked out into the yard. A patrolman was walking slowly up and down the flagged path that led from the terrace to the lawn. I moved to the room at the front of the house and glanced out onto the street. It was empty—everyone had left and gone home. I didn’t see any cars, not even the Chevy Impala. It felt like it was time for me to leave.

I headed to the top of the stairs, trying to hear what was happening downstairs. Popoola was still in the lounge. The front door seemed a long way down. I began descending the stairs, my left hand gripping the handrail. Halfway down, I heard the patrolman clear his throat, and my heart skipped a beat, but I kept going.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs. Before I could reach the front door, I had to walk past the open doorway of the lounge. I edged closer until I could just see into the room. Popoola was smoking, his back to me, keeping time with the soft swing music by tapping his right hand. The Smith & Wesson Model 52 gun was in the pocket of my jacket, and I had my hand on the trigger. If I took just two more steps, I'd be too far away to react quickly.

Then, out of nowhere, Popoola suddenly turned around.

We stared at each other across the hall and the living room. His fleshy, weather-tanned face turned a deep shade of red, and his small eyes widened until they were as round as big tomatoes. For a split second, I thought that if I threatened him with the gun, I’d be in serious trouble. I still had a small chance of proving I didn’t kill Mr. Powell, but I couldn’t talk my way out of threatening a cop with a gun.

Slowly, I pulled my hand out of my pocket and forced a smile at him. I saw his hand fumble frantically for his gun holster. He moved slowly, his actions disjointed and panicked.

“Hello, officer,” I said as casually as I could manage. “Where’s everybody?”

 He finally got his gun out and pointed it straight at me.

“Don’t move!” he shouted.

“Take it easy, officer,” I said quickly. “I was hoping to find Lieutenant Brandon. Isn’t he here anymore?”

“Who the hell are you?” he snarled, advancing slowly, his thick finger tight on the gun trigger.

“My name’s Emeka. I’m a reporter for the Baltimore Star,” I said, praying he didn’t realize I was the guy they were looking for. “You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?”

I saw him relax just a little, but his gun was still aimed at me.

“Show me your press card,” he demanded.

I took out my wallet, flipped it open, and handed it to him. He examined the press card before handing back the wallet.

“How did you get in here?” he asked.

“Simonds let me in the back way,” I said. “I wanted to take a look around. Can I do that?”

“Simonds let you in?” The barrel of his gun sagged a bit, no longer pointing directly at me. “That’s against orders. Simonds, of all people, should’ve known better. You can’t be in here.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Nobody will know unless you tell them. Is this where Mr. Powell was shot?” I wandered further into the room. “Mr. Powell certainly lived in style, didn’t he?”

Popoola shoved his gun back into its holster.

“You need to leave, sir,” he said firmly. “Come on! Leave! I’ve got my orders.”

“Take it easy now, officer,” I said, backing away. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah,” he replied, moving past me into the hall. “And I’m doing mine too. Now come on, let’s get you out of here.”

I followed him into the hall and watched as he unlocked the front door.

“Get lost!” he said, holding the door open.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” I said and stepped cautiously past him.

I started walking toward the driveway, doing my best not to run. I half-expected the other officer to show up, but he didn’t.

I stopped at the gate and looked back. Popoola was standing in the doorway's light, staring at me. We locked eyes for a moment before he stepped back and slammed the front door shut.

 

 

 

 

END OF EPISODE 30

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 31, which  will be published here next Sunday.