“Understandable.” George glanced at Andi who was now sitting in a relaxed position. “Tucker also told us Suzie never stole anything valuable?”
“No. For one, the people here aren’t rich. No diamond necklaces or ruby rings lying around. We usually ask family members to hold on to anything of real value. When there is no family, we have these things stored in our safe. Though, as I said, nothing that’s worth more than a couple of thousand dollars. And kleptomania, as you surely know, isn’t about the value of what is taken. It’s about the taking.”
“Yes, we know that. Do you happen to have a list of the items that were stolen? Have they been returned to their owners?”
Shelby nodded. “When I finally realized, or rather, admitted to myself, what was going on, I confronted Suzie. She had it all hoarded in the basement in a broom closet nobody used anymore. She had somehow found the key to it and it was all there. Just to be on the safe side, I took pictures of every item, noted the estimated worth and who it belonged to. Then the stuff was returned, and Suzie was let go.”
The pain in the director’s voice hit George harder than he would have expected. To be betrayed by somebody you trusted, somebody you gave a chance, it had to be terrible. Shelby started rummaging in one of the drawers of her desk, finally lifting a binder in the air. She put it on the desk and shuffled it toward George.
“Here’s the list. I hope it helps you with your investigation.”
“Thank you, Director Delaine. And thank you for making the time to talk to us. You’ve been a great help.”
She nodded. “It was more of a pleasure than I would have thought. I was told you’re going to talk to Tamika Carter?”
“Carter? I thought her name was Byrnes?” George cocked his head.
“It is now, but while she was married, she used her husband’s name, Carter. After he died, she went back to her maiden name, though with her Alzheimer’s, she now reacts better to Carter.”
“Oh, good to know. Thank you, we’ll keep that in mind.”
The director nodded. “A word of advice, detectives, though I have a feeling you’re more empathetic than some of your colleagues I’ve met. Alzheimer’s is a bitch of an illness. Don’t expect too much from a talk with Tamika. She has good days and bad ones, and sadly, the bad ones are starting to get the upper hand. Whatever you want from her, you probably won’t get it.”
George nodded, got up, and held out his hand. “We are aware. Again, thank you. This,” he held the binder up, “is great.”
She shook his hand first then Andi’s, not once commenting on the fact that his partner hadn’t said a word during the entire conversation except for the greeting and now a short goodbye. They left her office and went back to reception and from there they were taken to Tamika’s room.
CHAPTER 18
A MEMORY FULL OF HOLES
Andi liked Tamika’s room. It was cluttered with small knick-knacks—figurines of cats, dogs, and birds—and framed pictures on the walls and dresser of her much younger self with a good-looking man and Rosalie as a baby. Above her bed were photos of Rosalie holding Tammy as a baby, one of Tammy around eight years old wearing a flower dress and two pigtails, and one of her now, dressed in jeans and a purple T-shirt with yellow dots. Tammy looked more serious in this picture. Her smile was not as carefree as it had been as a child.
Tamika herself had once been a formidable woman, as evidenced by the photos, but she looked frail sitting in her armchair wearing a light blue summer dress with sunflowers printed on it. Her skin was sagging on her face and neck, proof that she had lost too much weight too rapidly for her skin to adjust. She looked at them with only a hint of a spark in her eyes. The silverfish, mites, spiders, and centipedes in the room told Andi her body chemistry was unbalanced, and the medication she got was not helping much. The caretaker who had escorted them touched Tamika’s right hand and spoke to her softly.
“Tamika? Mrs. Carter? You have guests. Do you want to talk to them?”
Tamika’s gaze turned to them. For a moment, Andi saw the flash of the seasoned lawyer she once had been, all hard and assessing. She must have been a force of nature.
“Detectives.” Just one word, spoken with conviction.
“Ah, yes, Tamika. Very good. They are Detectives George Donovan and Andrew Hayes. They have some questions for you.”
George stepped forward. “Hello, Mrs. Carter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, which Tamika just stared at for a moment before taking it.
Andi held his hand out next. She took it while her eyes bore into him. “Hello, Mrs. Carter.”
“Sometimes it’s Byrnes. You can call me Tamika.” Silence.
The caretaker took a step backward to give them more room. “Is it okay if I leave the room, Tamika? Or do you want me to stay?”
Tamika’s gaze didn’t waver from Andi. She still held his hand. “You can go.”
As soon as the door closed, Tamika let go of Andi’s hand. “Black and White. Interesting.”
George stared at Andi for a moment, asking him how to proceed. Since Andi didn’t have a clue, he shrugged. He hated leaving George hanging, but all he got from the arthropods was that Tamika was seriously ill, which they already knew. He doubted he would be able to tell whether she was lying or omitting the truth. To do so, a person had to be aware of what the truth was, and he didn’t think Tamika was still present enough to grasp such nuances.
“Uh, yes. We’re partners.” George tried his best to stay on the topic she had introduced.
