Tag Archives: Detective Brady

Rainbow Connection; chapter sever, part two

“May I help you?”  Carol asks sharply, her face scrunching up.  “This is a private meeting, you know.”

“Sorry to intrude,” Inspector Robinson says, flashing her badge and not looking at all sorry.  “I’m Inspector Robinson.  I’m investigating the homicide of Rosalita Chavez.  This is Detective Brady.  She is investigating the homicide of Ashley Stevenson.”  Detective Brady nods, but her eyes are scanning the crowd.  Cop eyes—they don’t miss a thing.

“What do you want?”  Carol’s tone is combative, which is not ideal for talking with the police.

“We would like to say a few words to the women here,” Inspector Robinson says, still rooted to a spot just inside the doorway.  It is clear that she is taking the lead on the case with Detective Brady content to play second fiddle.  Presumably, she’s used to it with Sergeant Grimes as her boss.  “If that’s all right with you.”  Her tone is courteous, but it’s an order and not a question.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”  Her good humor restored, Carol acquiesces with grace.  The cops stand behind Carol so most of us can see them without moving in our seats.  The women on either side of Carol move their chairs to get a better view.  Unexpectedly, Detective Brady speaks first.

“The homicide of Ashley Stevenson is a puzzling thing,” she begins, fixing her eyes on the person across from her which happens to be Tudd.  Tudd starts squirming under the scrutiny.  “While she has been a troublemaker for most of her short life, she is far from a delinquent.  She comes from money and as far as we can tell, has not ventured too far into the seamier side of life.  Just your ordinary teenage girl with ordinary rebellions.  So why was she killed?  That’s what we’re trying to discover.

“Her father is another matter.”  Detective Brady has slipped into a rhythmic telling of her saga which draws her listeners in.  “He is a powerful man with many enemies but not the type to kill a daughter of an enemy to make a statement.  So, if the killing isn’t personal and it isn’t because of her father, then what is the motive?  That is the stopping point.”  Inspector Robinson takes over.

“Rosalita Chavez was a single mother whose son was killed in the gang wars.  Rosie, as she was called, raised a fuss about it to whomever she could get to listen.  She’d go to the cops and harass them to arrest someone.  She wrote her congressman every day.  She was determined her son’s death wouldn’t be for nothing.  As a result, there were some powerful gang members irate with her for stirring up trouble as they saw it.  She was threatened several times to keep her mouth shut, which she didn’t do.

“So it would seem that this was a retaliation murder.  An execution, if you will.  However, we have ascertained beyond a reasonable doubt that her death wasn’t gang related.  She is not dating anyone, nor does she have any shadowy figures in her life.  What does that leave?  Now, we know.  Someone in her position probably has a shady character or two tucked away somewhere.  If so, we can’t find that person.  Reluctantly, we have let go of gang-related motives for the time being.”

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Rainbow Connection; chapter five

“Rayne!  The police!”  Paris looks at me with wide eyes even though neither of us is a stranger to the police.  During the last investigation, they talked to one of us at least every other day.

“Sergeant Grimes, Ms. Liang.”  He is over six-feet tall, rangy with a buzz cut and muddy brown eyes.  He is not prepossessing at all, except for the stare which all cops cultivate.  “Detective Brady.”  He nods at a shapely blond with a curvaceous figure not disguised at all by the black pantsuit she chooses to wear.  Her light green eyes are fringed with blond eyelashes—a contrast that should be off-setting, but is seductive instead.  Wire-rimmed glasses cover her eyes.  She is carrying a pad of paper.

“What can I do for you?”  I struggle to keep my voice matter-of-fact so he can’t read the panic on my face.  What can I tell them that won’t make me sound phony, or, worst of all, guilty?

“May we come in?”  The sergeant barges into the room, ignoring the fact that I haven’t answered his question yet.  “We just have a few questions to ask you about the murder of Ashley Stevenson.”  He pauses expectantly, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.  Resigned, I usher him and Detective Brady into the living room.  I gesture for them to sit, but they remain standing.  So do I.  “This won’t last long.  I just have a few questions I have to ask you.”  The sergeant’s voice is genial, as if he’s discussing different flavors of tea.  “Please have your roommate leave.”  Paris exits the room without saying a word.  I know he’s huddled in his bedroom, straining to hear what is being said.  “Ms. Liang, how did you know Ms. Stevenson?”

“We were in a group together,” I say firmly, hoping that will be the end of it.  Of course it isn’t, and they persist in asking me questions.  What kind of group?  Group therapy; therapy group—take your pick.  What was the group specifically for?  For some reason, I am reluctant to answer this question.  “Trauma healing,” I finally mumble, hoping they’ll let it go.  Of course they don’t.  How often does the group meet?  Who is the leader?  Who in the group didn’t like Ashley?  I finally protest as the content of the meetings is confidential.

“Nothing is confidential in a homicide investigation, Ms. Liang,” Sergeant Grimes shoots back as he looms over me.  Neither of us is sitting—he because he refused a seat; I because I won’t put myself at a further disadvantage by sitting down.  The man is over six-feet tall, so he’s already a foot taller than me.  The detective is discreetly scribbling away while the sergeant and I exchange glares.  I wish the cop from the other case, Inspector Robinson, was in charge of this investigation, but I understand that it’s outside of her jurisdiction.

“Sergeant Grimes, why are you asking me about the group?”  I stare at him as haughtily as I can.  “I only went one time.”

“You were involved in another homicide investigation quite recently,” the sergeant explains, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.  “Perhaps you weren’t as innocent in the last case as you make yourself out to be.”

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