“Anyway. You at her, or what?”
“No. She's way out of my league.”
“She's just people. And besides, you may not have noticed it yet, but you're a big time lawyer now. Been on TV and shit. Women will be lining up to get next to you. So maybe it's her who's out of your league,” Garrett said. “So what does the late Collins couple have to do with her?”
“The woman was Desireé Ferguson's best friend. Carmen was going over the case file and noticed that the police never talked to her. I'm just looking for any connection.”
“Okay, I'll check on it. But what does it have to do with you? They found Ferguson not guilty.”
“True, but somebody killed her sister. She wants to know who. Police don't seem interested in reopening the case, so she asked me to help her.”
“Marcus, you're not gonna run off on another wild goose chase? Are you?”
“No, Garrett. I'm not gonna try to investigate this on my own. But I coulda used you the last time.”
“Like I told you then, that black bag stuff wasn't nothing either one of us needed to get involved in. All the time and money you put into it, and for what? For somebody to tell you what I told you already. People in that game don't retire, they get retired. Permanently.”
“Lighten up, Garrett, I said I wasn't gonna do anything. And if we get any fresh leads we'll turn them over to the police.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that. You do the lawyer thing, and leave the investigating to me.”
“I did call you and ask you to do just that. Didn't I?”
“Just checking.”
“Don't worry about me, Garrett.”
“I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what I found out,” Garrett said and hung up the phone. After which, Marcus fell asleep thinking about Carmen. Thinking about Desireé Ferguson's brutal murder. And then Randa creeped into his dream.
Marcus picked up the papers off the printer, when he thought he heard a noise. Marcus stood still for a second, but he didn't hear anything. He turned off the computer and headed for the door. He was out the house, and he was just about to close the door, when he heard the noise again. He turned around and walked up the steps straight to the bedroom and opened the door. There was Randa, in bed with another man. Pulling her hair out riding his dick. Marcus stood there, watching. He couldn't move. Then he looked down and realized that he had a golf club in his hand. He gripped the nine iron tighter, and his eyes narrowed as Marcus walked slowly toward the bed, still unnoticed. He raised the club above his head and once again he couldn't move. He started to swing, but he couldn't move.
Randa moaned loudly, “That's the spot!”
Marcus felt the anger well up inside him. He swung the club and hit Randa in the head. Randa's blood squirted across his face. The impact of the blow knocked her off the man on to the bed. Marcus walked slowly around the bed, as the man grabbed his pants and headed for the door. He stood over Randa, she looked at Marcus, trying to speak, but no words came out. He raised the club again. Randa screamed, “I LOVE YOU!”
Marcus sat straight up in the bed, looking around and wondering where he was. The nightmare was over, but his heart was still pounding. He sat there for a moment, breathing hard, covered in sweat, trying to regain his composure. As he began to calm down he tried to come to grips with his nightmare. It seemed pretty obvious. But did he want to kill Randa? His cell phone rang before Marcus could answer his question.
“This is Marcus.”
“Hi, Mr. Douglas, this is Connie Talbert. I'm returning your call.”
“Good morning, Connie. How are you?”
“I'm doing just great, Mr. Douglas. How about yourself?” Connie asked.
“I'm okay,” Marcus lied not wanting to tell Connie he just dreamt of killing his wife. “I was calling to see if Mr. Ferguson had time to see me this afternoon about one?”
“That would be fine. He's in the office this afternoon and he'll look forward to seeing you at one.”
“Excellent. Then I'll see you at one,” Marcus said and hung up the phone.
He gave some thought to whether he was blind-siding Ferguson by not mentioning that he was coming with Carmen. Not that it should matter, he of all people, should want to know who killed his wife. All the same, Marcus was interested to see how he'd react. Because when you get right down to it, he didn't know whether Ferguson killed Desireé or not. He never even asked him. His job was to defend him of the charges and get him off. That was the dilemma Marcus faced as a defense attorney. “Guilty people are entitled to a defense, too,” he'd always say.
The phone rang again. “This is Marcus.”
“Good morning, Marcus,” Janise said. “I hope you don't mind, but Connie Talbert called and said you wanted to see Ferguson this afternoon. Said she tried you at home and didn't get an answer. So I gave her your cell phone number.”
“Yeah, that was fine, Janise. She just called me.”