Damsels in Distress (8 page)

“I was at your every beck and call. How could you do . . .” Tamara choked on her tears.

Richard scooted closer to her bed. “Baby, I can't say I'm sorry enough. I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you, I promise.”

Tamara didn't want Richard in her presence. “Get out of here.”

Richard looked at his wife pleadingly. “Baby, please.”

Tamara gathered what little strength she had and yelled as loud as she could, “Get out!”

Richard stood and walked toward the door with his head hanging low. Before he left his wife's hospital room he turned around. “I love you, Tam.”

Tamara connected her eyes with Richard's. He had just confessed to her that he'd been unfaithful for an entire year. Tamara wondered if Richard even knew what the word “love” meant. Looking at Richard standing and pleading for her forgiveness disgusted her. “You can take that lie to your whore. She just might believe you.”

Richard left Tamara's hospital room hastily. He knew her parents and sisters were on their way to see about Tamara and he didn't want to be hassled by their questions. Besides he had a more pressing issue. Richard had somewhere else to be, someone else to see, and something else to do.

* * *

Richard had been sitting in his car and waiting for Portia to come home for over four hours. He had a lot to think about during that time. Like the countless times that he had come through for Portia when she needed her car note paid. The numerous times she called and cried that her rent was due, Richard was there with cash in his hand. And the biweekly hair appointments and monthly nail appointments that Richard afforded Portia should have been enough. But when Richard thought about it, the money he sacrificed behind his wife's back was never enough for Portia. She always wanted more. Of course Richard knew that withdrawing money from the bank account he shared with Tamara was risky, but the sexcapades that he and Portia shared were worth it.

As he sat in his car outside of Portia's apartment building and waited for her, Richard made a vow to himself that he would never cheat on Tamara again. He realized that not even Portia was worth losing his marriage for.

Portia didn't see him parked across the street from her apartment complex as she drove into her assigned parking spot. Richard sat patiently gripping the steering wheel tightly as he watched Portia exit her car and enter the building. Through the glass doors Richard saw her retrieve her mail from the mailbox in the vestibule. He watched Portia insert her key in the lock of the glass door and proceed to the elevator. Portia disappeared from Richard's view. He waited five more minutes before exiting his car.

In her apartment Portia was just about to make herself some dinner when her doorbell rang. She walked to the intercom next to the front door. “Who is it?” she asked after she pressed the talk button then released it to listen.

“It's me.”

She frowned. “Who is me?”

“It's me, Richard. Buzz me in,” he said as calmly as he could.

Richard never visited Portia unannounced. And even though he tried to sound normal Portia knew exactly why he was down in the lobby of her building. Richard had told Portia that his wife would be home from her weekend trip that afternoon. And since Richard was ringing her doorbell, Portia figured the missus must have found the gifts she had left behind.

“What do you want, Richard?”

In the lobby Richard paced back and forth in front of the small, round speaker mounted on the wall. “I wanna talk to you.”

Portia knew exactly what Richard wanted to talk about but she asked the question anyway. “About what?”

Richard was so hot and bothered, he began to sweat. “I just wanna talk.”

Portia wasn't absolutely sure that Richard's wife had found the gifts she left behind but since Richard was at her apartment and sounding a little too calm, wanting to talk about nothing, Portia wasn't about to take any chances. “This is not a good time, Richard. I'm busy.”

Richard's breathing got heavy. He made two tight fists then released his hands. It took every ounce of self control he had to stay calm. “Please, baby. I had a rough day. Let me in.” He was willing to say whatever was necessary to get Portia to allow him access.

Portia contemplated but her gut instinct overruled. “I said this is not a good time, Richard. And you know better than to come to my apartment without calling first.”

Richard slammed his fist against the speaker. He could no longer restrain himself. “I'm through playing with you, Portia. Buzz this door open. Now!”

His outburst was the confirmation that Portia needed. At that moment Portia knew that Richard was in trouble with his wife and Portia also knew that she was the reason. “You must be crazy if you think I'm gonna let you in here when you're acting a fool. What is wrong with you?”

“What the heck do you think is wro . . .” Richard took a deep breath and calmed down. “You're right, I'm sorry. I just got something on my mind that I gotta talk to you about. Will you please buzz me in?”

“No, Richard. Go home and talk to Tamara.” Portia released the talk button and walked away.

Richard's inner core exploded. His wife's name coming out of Portia's mouth was the match that ignited him. For ten minutes he paced the foyer. But lucky be a man that evening when an elderly woman strolled into the building struggling with three grocery bags. Richard was quickly at her side. “Let me help you with those, ma'am.”

The gray-haired old woman stood no more than four feet tall. She was more than happy to release the load. “Thank you.” She allowed Richard to take her bags and inserted her key into a lock that would give him entry. The old woman escorted Richard to her third-floor apartment. “Just leave the bags right here by the door, sugar. I can get them from here.”

Richard set the bags on the floor outside her door.

The woman opened her purse to give Richard some money. “Here ya go, sugar. I sho 'preciate it.”

“That's okay, ma'am. I don't want your money,” Richard said. He wasn't the least bit interested in the old woman's money. He had to get to Portia.

The woman pressed the money into Richard's hand. “Go on and take this and buy yourself something nice.”

In his hand was a shiny nickel. Richard put it in the right front pocket of the jeans he was wearing. “Thank you, ma'am,” he said and scurried back to the elevator. He got back on and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Moments later he stood outside of Portia's unit and knocked.

Portia had just slipped on her nightgown when she looked through the peephole. “How did you get up here?”

“Don't worry about that. Open the door.”

Portia slid the safety chain into its lock then opened the door. Through a one-inch crack she saw a distraught Richard. There was sweat on his brow and Richard's jaw line was tight. “What do you want?” she asked irritably.

“Take the chain off the door.”

“If you wanna talk then talk from the hallway.”

In a split second the chain on the door snapped and Richard had Portia pinned against the wall, in the foyer, by her neck. Her feet left contact with the floor as he slid her up the wall.

“What is wrong with you? Huh? What the heck is wrong with you, Portia? Why are you playing games with my wife?” As he spoke showers of Richard's saliva landed on Portia's face.

Very little air was getting to her lungs. Portia gasped and coughed. She tried to remove Richard's hand from around her throat. Her legs swung from Richard's knees to the wall behind her as she kicked. The acrylic on Portia's fingernails slashed Richard across his face. Richard yelled out and released her. Portia fell to her knees and tried to crawl away but wasn't fast enough. Richard grabbed Portia by her hair and threw her across her living room. The back of her head met violently with the porcelain end of the cocktail table and she screamed. Portia saw stars. Richard rushed to Portia and kicked the right side of her neck. Again she screamed.

He stooped and punched her in the middle of her chest. “Do you know what you did to my wife? Huh, do you?”

The blow Richard applied to her chest took Portia's breath away but she managed to bellow out another scream. He dragged Portia by her arms, to her bedroom, as she kicked and hollered. Richard possessed the strength of Hercules. He picked Portia up and threw her on the bed. She tried to get up but another blow to her chest sent her flying backward. Richard dove on top of Portia and lifted her gown to her waist. Portia used all of her might to wiggle from under him but couldn't do it. Richard covered Portia's mouth with his left hand to silence her screams. With his right hand he unzipped his pants and forced himself into her. “You screwed with my wife so now I'm screwing you.”

Though Richard had been on top of Portia many times, that time it felt like he'd gained fifty pounds. She could do nothing but lie there and moan.

When Richard had finished doing what he came to do he stood and looked at her. Portia rolled onto her side and cried loudly. Her tears didn't move Richard at all. He wiped sweat from his forehead. He panted as he spoke to Portia. “I'm gonna tell you this one time and one time only. Stay away from Tamara. Don't call her, don't e-mail her, and don't even come within one hundred feet of her. If I even hear of you contacting her . . .” He paused. “I swear I'll kill you.” He zipped his pants and turned to walk away.

“You won't even have a wife when she finds out that I'm pregnant!” Portia spat the words out of her mouth. She wasn't pregnant but she wanted to make Richard angrier than he already was.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. She was just beaten and raped but Portia didn't care. She was determined to have the last say so even it cost her life.

Richard stopped in his tracks, turned back around, and gave Portia a glare that let her know she had just made a mistake, a grave mistake. The glare she saw in Richard's eyes put the fear of God in Portia. It wasn't like all the other times when he had ogled her with lust and pleasure. It was a different look. A look that Portia had seen on victims' faces in Stephen King's horror movies when the music started to play. The kind of music that warned viewers that something tragic was about to happen. Someone was going to die.

Richard rushed toward Portia and leapt on top of her and punched her face over and over and over again. He didn't let up until she stopped moving and lay still.

It was approximately 2:00 a.m. when the loud shrill of the telephone startled Celeste. Whenever the telephone rang in the wee hours of the morning it usually meant that something was wrong.

She nervously answered it on the second ring. “Hello?”

Ginger was hysterical. Screaming and talking fast at the same time. Celeste couldn't make out anything she was saying. “Ginger, calm down. What happened?”

The only words Celeste comprehended were, “Portia,” “hospital,” and “dead.” It was Ginger's last word that made Celeste sit up on the bed and scream to the top of her lungs.

Anthony was sleeping on the living room sofa when he heard Celeste. The sofa had become his place of rest since the evening he overheard Dr. Bindu accidentally reveal Celeste's secret. He jumped up and ran into their bedroom. In the dark Anthony accidentally stubbed his baby toe on the edge of the cocktail table. He cursed out loud. He grabbed his toe and hobbled into the bedroom.

Celeste had dropped the telephone on the floor and was rocking back and forth on the bed crying loudly. “No, Jesus, no. Not Portia. Please, God. Don't take my sister from me.”

Anthony turned on the light in the bedroom and saw Celeste sitting up on the bed. He saw her rocking and moaning. “What happened? Who was that on the phone?”

Celeste threw the covers from her body and hurried to the closet. “That was Ginger. She's at the hospital. She said Portia is dead.”

Anthony's eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Portia is dead!” Celeste yelled. “I gotta get to the hospital.” Crying, she raised her nightgown over her head and slipped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

Anthony couldn't believe what Celeste had just said to him. Her words overruled the pain in his toe. “What do you mean she's dead? What did Ginger say?”

Celeste slipped into a pair of flat mules and ran past Anthony and out of the bedroom. “Come on, Tony. Let's go. Let's go!”

Anthony was dressed in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. His attire would have to do because he didn't have time to change. He slipped into his house slippers and chased Celeste out of the bedroom. He grabbed his keys from the cocktail table. They both hurried out of the front door.

Anthony started the engine. “Put your seat belt on,” he said to Celeste. He fastened his own seat belt and sped away from the curb.

“Oh, my God. Tony, please get there quick.”

“Which hospital?”

“Rush-Presbyterian.”

Anthony sped toward the Eisenhower Expressway. “What did Ginger say?”

Celeste reached into the glove box for a Kleenex tissue and blew her runny nose. “The only thing I heard was that Portia was at the hospital and she was dead. I dropped the phone and started screaming.”

“Ginger didn't say how or why or what happened to Portia?”

Celeste became irritated. Anthony was asking way too many questions. Questions that Celeste didn't have any answers to. “No, Tony. Ginger was hollering on the phone. I could barely understand her at all. The only words I could comprehend were Portia is dead.” Celeste placed her face in her hands and cried openly. “Oh, my God. How could this happen?”

* * *

Ginger was already in the waiting area of the emergency room at Rush-Presbyterian hospital, on the west side of Chicago, when she saw Anthony and Celeste rush in and head straight to the nurses' station.

“Celeste,” Ginger called out and stood from her chair.

Celeste saw Ginger and ran into her arms. They held on to each other and cried. Anthony walked over and put his arms around both of them. “Why don't you two come and sit down?”

Celeste didn't want to sit. She let go of Ginger and looked at her. “What happened?”

Ginger's eyes were puffy and red. Her hands were shaking as she tried her best to answer Celeste. “I got a call from the woman who lives in the unit next to Portia. She said she heard yelling and screaming coming from Portia's apartment and called the police. When the police got there, Portia's front door was ajar and the security chain had been broken. They found her lying unconscious on her bed. She had been beaten.”

Celeste's eyes grew wide. She let out a shrill sound and placed her hand on her heart. “Oh, my God. Who would do such a thing to Portia? Could it have been a robbery gone wrong?”

Ginger shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know. Her neighbor said she didn't see anyone arrive at or leave Portia's apartment.”

“Who is the neighbor and how did she know to contact you?” Anthony asked Ginger.

“Her name is Josephine something. I can't remember what she said her last name was. Anyway, she said since she and Portia were two women living alone, they should give each other the phone numbers of their next of kin just in case something happened to either one of them.” Ginger looked at Celeste. “Portia had given Josephine your telephone number, too. When Josephine contacted me she said that she was going to call you next but I told her that I would call you myself.”

Celeste's mind went back to Ginger's telephone call. “You said that Portia was dead.”

“I said she might be dead. Josephine told me that Portia wasn't breathing when the paramedics carried her out of the apartment. I've asked the nurse at the desk what was going on with Portia and she told me the doctor will come out and speak with me as soon as he can.”

“Ginger, why isn't Ron here with you?” Anthony asked. At a time like that Anthony felt that a man should be with his woman. Ronald knew that Ginger, Celeste, and Portia were best friends. Celeste and Anthony were going through a rough patch but there was no way on God's green earth that he would let Celeste deal with Portia's trauma alone. And furthermore it was the middle of the night. Anthony felt that Ronald should have been by Ginger's side for her safety. Anthony couldn't fathom Celeste leaving the house alone at that hour.

Ginger shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know where that fool is. He wasn't home when I left. I've called his cell phone three times.”

Anthony shook his head from side to side. He and Ronald were not friends. He tolerated Ronald for Ginger's sake. But when Celeste had shared that Ronald had beat Ginger because she let the gas hand fall below the half-full line without filling the tank up, Anthony decided that it would be in Ronald's best interest that they stay as far apart as possible. Anthony did wonder, though, where Ronald could be at that hour. “He should be right here with you, Ginger. What man doesn't return his woman's calls? For all Ron knows, it could be you laying up in the emergency room.”

Ginger was embarrassed that Ronald wasn't there to comfort her the way Anthony was supporting Celeste. She was even more embarrassed that her best friend's husband had noticed and commented on her missing so-called boyfriend.

Celeste was taken aback by Anthony's forwardness about Ronald. She knew that Anthony didn't care for Ronald but Anthony had always encouraged Celeste to stay out of Ginger's relationship. It threw Celeste for a loop when Anthony spoke to Ginger that way. “Okay, Tony, let's all calm down. Now is not the time for this.”

Anthony had said his piece. He was done with the Ronald situation. He just hoped that Ginger would finally see that Ronald was a loser. Anthony wanted Ginger to understand that if her boyfriend couldn't be by her side while her best friend fought for her life, she didn't need him. Anthony went and sat down in a chair.

Ginger looked into Celeste's eyes. She had been missing her and Portia for a month. “I'm sorry for what I said to you and Portia in my living room last month.”

Celeste pulled Ginger into her arms and squeezed tight. “I'm sorry too. We all said things that we shouldn't have.”

“I missed y'all so much,” Ginger wiped the tears that were falling down her face.

“We're together now and that's all that matters. We need to pray for our sister.”

Ginger and Celeste were sitting and holding hands when the doctor came into the waiting room and approached them. “Are you the family of Portia Dunn?”

Anthony, Celeste, and Ginger all stood. “Yes,” Ginger answered nervously.

“Let's sit down,” the doctor said, already making his way toward a chair.

When a doctor tells family members to sit down, it means bad news is coming.
“We don't wanna sit down,” Celeste stated. “Just tell us. How is Portia?”

Anthony saw the expression on the doctor's face. He looked as though he didn't have good news. Anthony came and stood in between Ginger and Celeste. He wrapped his arms around their waists for support.

The doctor looked at all of them. “She's alive.”

The loudest sigh came from Ginger. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”

Celeste fell into Anthony. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“Ms. Dunn was barely conscious when she arrived,” the doctor said. “But we brought her around.”

“Can you tell us what happened to her?” Anthony asked.

The doctor folded his arms across his chest and exhaled. “Well, she was severely beaten. Her right jawbone is fractured. Ms. Dunn's entire face looks as though she was mauled. She was hemorrhaging behind her left eye duct but we managed to get that under control. By the looks of her, whoever did this wanted her dead.”

“Oh, my God,” Celeste cried out.

“I don't understand it,” Ginger said. “Why did this happen to her?”

“Anything else, Doctor?” Anthony asked.

“Yes, there is one more thing I need to make all of you aware of.”

Ginger and Celeste braced themselves.

Celeste wiped her eyes. “What is it?”

“Ms. Dunn was sexually assaulted as well.”

“My Lord,” Anthony said out loud.

Celeste and Ginger grabbed each other and held on for dear life. They sobbed on each other's shoulders.

“Can we see her?” Anthony asked.

“A police officer is interviewing Ms. Dunn now. She's very weak but I'll allow you to spend five minutes with her. She's been sedated but, yes, you can see her.”

Anthony, Celeste, and Ginger thanked the doctor for his report. As soon as the doctor exited the waiting room a Chicago police officer walked in and stood in front of them. “Excuse me, I was told that you were the family of Portia Dunn.”

“Yes, we are,” Celeste said matter-of-factly.

“I'm Officer Dale Caridine. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Ginger put her purse strap on her shoulder. “We were just on our way to see Portia.” She attempted to walk pass the officer.

Officer Caridine stepped in Ginger's path. “It will only take a moment.” He retrieved a small notepad from his uniform shirt front pocket. “I tried speaking with Ms. Dunn but she's still in shock and wasn't very helpful.” He looked at Ginger. “What's your name?”

Ginger rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. She wasn't in the mood to be interrogated. Her best friend needed her. “Ginger Brown.”

He jotted down Ginger's name then looked up at her. “And how are you related to Ms. Dunn?”

“Celeste and I are Portia's best friends.”

Officer Caridine looked from Ginger to Celeste then from Celeste to Ginger. “Best friends? So, you're not related to her?”

“Not by blood, no,” Celeste offered. “Portia, Ginger, and I have been best friends since high school.”

“I see,” Officer Caridine commented then wrote in his notepad. He then looked back up at Celeste. “Are you Celeste?”

She nodded. “Yes. Celeste Harper.”

“What about Ms. Dunn's family?”

“She has no family,” Ginger offered. “We're her only family. Her parents are deceased and she has no siblings.”

“No grandparents, uncles, aunts, or cousins?”

“None that we're aware of,” Celeste stated.

Officer Caridine looked at Anthony standing close to Celeste. “And your name is?”

“Anthony Harper. Celeste is my wife.”

Officer Caridine wrote Anthony's name on his notepad then looked at all three of them. “Do any of you know of any enemies that Ms. Dunn may have? Anyone who may have a reason to want to hurt her?”

Try every married woman in Chicago,
Ginger thought. “No.”

“I can't think of anyone,” Celeste answered.

Officer Caridine looked at Anthony. “How about you?”

“I have absolutely no idea who would want to hurt Portia.” Anthony said.

Officer Caridine jotted down what each of them said. “Please, think hard. Have any of you witnessed her argue with anyone lately? Can you recall a conversation in which Ms. Dunn may have mentioned that someone was out to get her?”

The three of them answered together. “No.”

Officer Caridine didn't have anything else to write into his logbook. He placed it in his coat pocket and gave each of them a business card. “If anything comes to mind that can help me find out who did this to your friend, please call the precinct and ask for me.”

When Officer Caridine left them alone Celeste said, “Let's go see Portia.”

Anthony had to catch Celeste as her knees buckled when they walked into Portia's hospital room. Somewhere behind the black and blue bruises, the swollen eye, blistered lip, and overall disfigured face was the pretty Portia they all knew.

The doctor had told Anthony, Celeste, and Ginger that Portia was sedated but her eyes were open. Tears ran from the creases of her eyes down to her ears. Ginger and Celeste stood on opposite sides of her bed and each of them held Portia's hand.