Chocolate Girls with Golden Hair (22 page)

She stepped from the shower and stood
at the mirror. She studied her bloodshot eyes, straight black hair
and the somber look on her face. Now would have been a good time to
crawl back to Dr. Kern's office, but she managed to even screw that
up by halting her sessions with him.

After slipping into her fire engine red
bathrobe, she headed for the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the
counter.

She left word with the receptionist
that she would not be in due to personal reasons. She stood
barefoot in front of the refrigerator, embracing the
silence.

If ever a morning existed when she
needed a drink, this was the one. But she forced herself not to. It
was part of her problem. Instead, she made herself some coffee. She
needed to be totally sober and prepared for what was
ahead.

As the coffee brewed, a streak of hope
invaded Bianca's mind. Maybe she wouldn't be questioned at all,
despite what Rollie said. Her momentary flash of hope didn't last
long as she doubted herself. For some strange reason, she wondered
if she was responsible for Bruce's death and blocked it from her
memory.

After all, everything transpired so
fast.

Last night was vivid and a blur at the
same time. She tortured herself with the thought that maybe her
contact with Bruce did not end with her leaving him in the men's
room. Bruce being strangled possessed all the signs of her kinky
tactics. As quickly as she tried to move the disturbing thoughts
from her mind, others crept inside her head.

She needed to control her worries. She
was not the killer of Bruce Colby. And that was that.

But if she didn't kill him, then who
did?

In the front room, Bianca stood at the
window looking out, wondering what to do next. Again she considered
returning to her office. Hiding out at home was not doing her any
good. If anything, hiding out at home made her look even
guiltier.

But she was afraid.

Her being with Bruce last night was
suspicious, no doubt, and the detectives were going to want
answers.

How would she explain making out in the
men's room with Bruce and then later Bruce turning up
dead?

She finally got around to picking up
the lamp from the floor, then returned to the window for deep
thought. She gazed at the bare trees, studying them as she
contemplated what her next move would be.

The loud ring of the phone snapped her
out of her focused zone and into the panic zone. Afraid to answer
the phone, she stood motionless, nibbling at her fingernails, a
habit she had overcome many years ago. It was time to back up off
the imaginary cliff she was standing on and think.

She listened to the phone ring for the
third time. After letting voicemail pickup, she checked the message
and learned that it was Michelle and nervously awaited the
message.

"Bianca, this is Michelle. If you're
there, please call me back. This is important."

Right after the message played, her
phone rang again. The display told her that it was Michelle
again.

"Hello," Bianca said.

"I knew you were there," Michelle
said.

Bianca did not want to sound as
frazzled as she really was so very calmly, she asked. "What's
up?"

"I wanted to make sure you were all
right. You know about what happened, everything that happened last
night, don't you?"

"I heard about it."

"Well, the detectives questioned both
Camina and myself, and I'm sure they're going to want to talk to
you next."

"What kind of questions did they ask
you?"

"About last night mostly."

Bianca didn't have an alibi for last
night. At least not one that would save her hide. She was a dead
woman, and she might just as well go to the grave, jump in the hole
and wait for them to cover her with dirt. With the strong silence
penetrating the room, Bianca drifted off to comatose land. She
couldn't stop thinking about how she would explain her whereabouts
to the police.

"Bianca, are you there? Bianca?"
Michelle called out.

Though Bianca could hear Michelle
calling her name, she seemed too far away to answer.

"Bianca?"

Finally, Bianca returned to her
somewhat sane state. "I'm here."

"I have to tell you. Camina seems to
think that you are responsible for the death of Bruce Colby, but I
don't believe her."

"Thank you for saying that," Bianca
said.

"I know you're not responsible for what
happened to Bruce, so try not to worry too much. Okay?"

After everything that happened,
Michelle still had faith in her. It was faith that she didn't
believe she deserved, and she was so touched. Even Bianca, herself,
wasn't 100 percent certain that she was innocent.

"I planted a bug in their ear,"
Michelle said. "Got them to think that it could have been a man
wearing a wig or something."

"Did they think it was
possible?"

"They think everything is possible, but
it's definitely something they won't pass aside, especially after
they question you."

Was that it? Just answer their
questions and it would be over? That was her window of
hope.

Michelle made it sound so simple and so
much Bianca wanted to believe it was, but she couldn't. She knew
better.

Bianca hung up from Michelle and
decided to do the one thing she thought could help her─pray. Maybe
if she prayed, really prayed, like she never prayed before, she
could somehow dig herself out of this hole she had dug for herself.
Bianca dropped to her knees as she had seen so many others do and
recited a prayer from her heart.

With her hands clasped together, she
lifted her head and prayed.

Dear God. I am in dire need of your
help. I'm terrified of what I have done, and I need your
forgiveness. Please forgive me for all the wrong I have done and
the wrong that I have inflicted onto others and accept me into your
family.

Bianca finished her prayer and eased up
from the floor, and miraculously, she intuitively knew what to do.
It was time to talk to the police.

She couldn't postpone it any longer.
Otherwise, they would come for her. No longer could she wait at
home like this, hoping it would all go away. A man had been
murdered, and things like that didn't conveniently go
away.

A minute later, Bianca stood in the
bathroom mirror. She was about to blow dry her hair when she heard
several sharp knocks at her door. It was an authoritative knock,
the kind that demanded attention. It was the police, no doubt. In a
halted position, her heart pounded a million beats a minute. She
froze, literally froze. Since Lee was so magnificent at reaching
her apartment without calling up first, her first thought was that
it could have been him. But she knew better. Lee would never knock
like that.

She hoped and wished that whoever it
was at the door would go away, but her wishing would do her no
good. She had finally made the decision to stop hiding and talk to
the police, something she should have done sooner, but it was too
late. They were now at her front door, certain to be even more
suspicious of her than they may have been otherwise. Needless to
say, her decision to talk to the police came an hour too
late.

Chapter 15

THE DISTURBING KNOCKS AT HER front door
emanated throughout her apartment.

She entertained the idea of not
answering in the hopes that maybe they would go away, but soon
realized it was a fantasy that would never make its way into
reality. It was a temporary solution that probably wouldn't work
anyway.

Bianca stood immobilized in front of
the bathroom mirror. Not wanting the police to know that she had
recently colored her hair, she grabbed a towel from the shower rod
and wrapped it around her damp hair. She headed towards the front
door, her towel neatly wrapped around her head like a turban.
Suddenly, she remembered the hair color box on her basin and made a
quick U-turn back to the bathroom, and pulled the door
shut.

The authoritative knocks at her door
continued before she could answer. "Who is it?" she
asked.

"Detective Uhler, Chicago
Police."

This was it, the moment she dreaded in
all of its woe.

Upon opening the door, she saw before
her two detectives who she recognized from her office.

Detective Uhler flashed his badge. "I'm
Detective Uhler, and this is my partner, Detective Lane. We're with
the Chicago Police Department. Are you Bianca Bell?"

"I am."

"We'd like to ask you some
questions."

Almost neutralized, Bianca stood at the
door, her eyes fastened on Detective Uhler. She felt the
perspiration about to ooze down her forehead and wasn't sure
whether to invite them in or just run.

"May we come in?" Detective Lane
asked.

"Sure," Bianca said, as she stepped
aside so that they could enter.

After she closed the door, she waited
for the detectives to check out her cluttered apartment. New
clothes with the price tags still attached lay everywhere along
with empty shopping bags, shoeboxes and numerous wine
glasses.

Detective Lane turned to her, removing
his hands from his coat pockets. "Are you alone, Ms.
Bell?"

His question caught her off guard.
"Yes."

Detective Uhler stepped over to the
mantel where she kept her family portrait and framed obituaries,
now placed face down. With his hand on one of the framed
obituaries, Detective Uhler turned to Bianca.

"May I?"

"Sure."

Detective Uhler turned over one framed
obituary, then the other one, and finally the last one. He returned
them to their face down position, all the while standing perfectly
still. The detectives stood there, as if waiting to be asked to sit
down.

Bianca finally caught on. "You can sit
down."

"Thank you," Detective Uhler
said.

In a swift move, Bianca moved the
clothes from the sofa and adjacent chair. She stacked them neatly
in the corner of the sofa, and then eased down in the
chair.

While Detective Uhler sat on the chair
across from the sofa, Detective Lane stood at a distance, as if
observing, like a night watchman. Detective Uhler collected his
tiny note pad from his pocket while Bianca casually wiped the sweat
from her forehead. She hoped not to draw attention to herself or
worse yet, reveal just how frightened she really was.

"Are you aware that Bruce Colby was
murdered last night?" Detective Uhler asked.

Regret gnawed at her as she wished she
never met Bruce Colby, and most of all, that she never did the
things that she did to him. "I heard about it," she
said.

"How did you hear about it?" Detective
Lane asked.

"A coworker told me."

Detective Lane stepped closer to the
sofa. "What coworker is that?"

She was slow to speak, wanting to be as
vague as possible for as long as possible. It was important that
she not incriminate Michelle in anyway, and there was only one
other name that came to mind.

"A secretary at the office," Bianca
said.

"Does this secretary have a name?"
Detective Uhler asked.

"Camina. Camina Givens."

"Is she a friend?" Detective Uhler
asked.

"You can say that."

Detective Lane coughed as if he didn't
believe her, then continued. "Why did you come back home this
morning after you arrived at work?"

"Who told you that?" she asked very
calmly.

Detective Lane inched closer to Bianca.
"Maybe your friend Camina told us."

A faint smile tried to make its way on
Bianca's face, but she stopped it in time.

"Do you have an answer to our
question?" Detective Uhler asked.

She wondered how she could answer that
question without incriminating herself. Then her true instincts
kicked in. She would lie. "I forgot something so I came back home
to get it."

"And what was that?" Detective Lane
asked.

"What did I come back for?" she asked,
trying to come up with a quick lie to his question.

Detective Uhler didn't repeat his
question; instead he just waited for her to answer.

"Female things," she said.

Detective Uhler smiled whilst Detective
Lane unzipped his leather jacket. "So you came home, showered,
washed your hair and put on your bathrobe?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
What he described was exactly what happened.

"You can't answer that can you?"
Detective Lane questioned.

The perspiration crawled down her
forehead, and she could not have been more afraid if she were in a
room alone with Charles Manson, himself.