Secret Indiscretions (26 page)

J
ohnny placed the cold slice of pizza back in the box, unable to eat it. His life was in shambles and he didn't know how to fix it. “I should've requested a late check-out and stayed my ass in bed,” he lamented, thinking about last Saturday morning. Today made a week since the horrific accident at Geneva's salon, and he still couldn't get it out of his mind.

He hadn't meant to hurt Geneva in any way. All he'd wanted to do was tell her that he was sorry, and ask for her forgiveness. But things hadn't played out the way he'd wanted. He had no idea that Vivana would be there posing as a client. Each time he thought about the standing Saturday morning hair appointments she'd kept over the last four months, he had to shake his head. She'd played him in much the same way he'd played women all his life. Lies, secrets, and scandalous behavior weren't new to him, but they took on a different meaning when he was on the receiving end of them.

“This is what it feels like to be shit on,” he said, looking around his empty house. For the first time in years he was all alone. Even though his relationship with Vivana had been dysfunctional, tumultuous, and full of drama, she'd filled the void that Geneva had left, but now, even she was gone.

“I guess I'm getting my payback,” Johnny said as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and reached for a bottle of his favorite imported beer. He leaned against the counter and took a long swallow as his mind went back to Geneva.

When she left him a few months ago, Johnny knew she was hurt and angry, but he thought those feelings would eventually pass, as they always had. He'd fully expected her to come back to him, and that's why he never signed the separation papers. But as time went on, she didn't return, and now he knew why. He hung his head and mouthed words he never thought he'd say. “My wife is in love with another man.”

When Geneva told him that she'd moved on, and that she was actually in love with someone else, a surprising pain had gripped Johnny's chest that he'd never felt before. He wanted her back. He wanted to hold her. So he wrapped his arms around her and set tragedy in motion.

Every time he closed his eyes, the vision of Geneva's body lying limp on the ground plagued him. “I need something stronger than this,” he said as he downed his beer. He walked over to the cabinet. “This is more like it.” He opened the bottle of Ciroc, put a few ice cubes in his glass, and filled it to the rim with the premium vodka. “Ahhh, that's what I needed.” He drank the liquor until his glass was empty, and then filled it again. But no matter how hard he tried to block it out, the vision was still there.

Everything had happened in a flash, but he knew Geneva was hurt the minute they hit the ground because his body had landed on top of hers. She twisted her body as they fell to the ground, and she ended up underneath him, taking the full brunt of his weight. He knew it was bad because she didn't make a sound upon impact. “Geneva!” he screamed frantically. “Geneva, are you okay? . . . Say something!” She didn't move. She was unconscious.

Johnny's heart raced as he watched blood run down the side of her face. He touched her shoulder, which was posed in an awkward position. But before he could further survey the extent of her injuries, Donetta, Shartell, and a small group of women from the salon had descended upon him. A few of them pushed and kicked him but they backed off when they heard a police siren rushing to the scene. Someone had called the cops just that quickly, and because they were in an upscale part of town, the men in blue had come in record time. Moments later an ambulance arrived and he watched as they placed a still unconscious Geneva on a stretcher.

Johnny wished it had been him instead of Donetta who accompanied Geneva in the ambulance en route to the hospital, but the police refused to let him go anywhere until they got to the bottom of what happened. Luckily for him, they determined from his account, and from that of the eyewitnesses at the salon, that his actions had not been malicious in their intent. Geneva's fall was an accident, and he wasn't at fault.

But Johnny knew he was to blame, and that's why he planned to drink until he passed out; that way he wouldn't have to think about the woman he'd ruined or the unborn baby's life he'd taken. Every time he thought about the threatening, profanity laced text that Donetta had sent him the night of the accident, calling him a baby killer, he'd pick up a bottle to drink away the reality of what he'd done. He was well on his way to doing that again tonight, so drunk he was barely able to hold his glass to his mouth, when he heard a knock at his kitchen door.

It was close to midnight, and he wondered who in the hell could be coming to his house this time of night. As it stood, everyone he knew was avoiding him, including his neighbors. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus on the figure he saw through the sheer valance hanging on the door window. When he finally recognized who it was, surprise and caution filled his muddled mind. He wondered why he was being paid a visit, especially after all that had happened, and all that he'd done. No one visited anyone this time of night without a purpose, and he knew this purpose wasn't good. But he was drunk and he didn't care, so he was willing to take his chances.

Johnny stumbled to the door and opened it. “What're you doing here?”

They stared at each other without saying a word, and it quickly became clear to him that his life was getting ready to end. He was calm when his late night visitor pointed the gun, complete with a silencer on the end, directly between his eyes.

Slowly, Johnny eased back into the kitchen. He knew it was no use to put up a fight, and he actually welcomed what was about to come, because he knew that once he was dead it would be the first time he'd truly be at peace since the day he was born.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. He watched as the gun was lowered to his chest, hovering close to his heart. Johnny knew his pistol-wielding visitor was enjoying this, pausing for a moment, no doubt savoring what he imagined was the sweet taste of revenge. Then, when he thought for a brief moment that perhaps his life would be spared, he felt his chest explode. He fell to the floor and he knew it would be over soon.

G
eneva looked out the peephole and was surprised to see two men in suits, flashing their badges, standing on the other side.

“Who is it?” Samuel asked from where he was sitting on the couch.

“I think it's the police,” she answered.

He stood up and came to the door with a worried look on his face. “I wonder what they want.”

Geneva shrugged her shoulders because she didn't have a clue.

“I'll handle this,” Samuel told her.

She looked on as Samuel peered out of the peephole and then slowly opened the door. “How can I help you?”

The detectives introduced themselves, then the shorter, heavy-set one of the two looked past Samuel and directly at Geneva. “We're looking for a Mrs. Geneva Mayfield,” the detective said. “We spoke to several people at Heavenly Hair Salon where she's employed and they said we could find her at this address.”

Geneva stepped forward. “I'm Geneva Mayfield.”

“Are you the wife of Jonathan Nathaniel Mayfield?”

Geneva looked at Samuel and knew there was going to be trouble. “He and I are going through a divorce,” she answered. “What's this about?”

When the detective asked if they could step inside, Geneva instantly knew that something very, very bad had happened, and when he told her that Johnny was dead, her body went numb.

“His body was discovered this morning at his residence,” the officer said. “It appears that he died of a gunshot wound to the chest.”

Geneva clinched Samuel's hand and shook her head from side to side. “Oh my God,” she whispered. She looked at Samuel and the expression on his face put even more worry inside her.

“Mrs. Mayfield, we need to know where you were between the hours of eleven p.m. last night and one a.m. this morning?”

“I was here, asleep. I went to bed early last night and didn't wake up until about six this morning.”

The detectives both looked at Samuel. “Are you Mr. Samuel Owens?” the other detective asked.

Geneva immediately knew where this was going. If the detectives had questioned her whereabouts with people at Heavenly Hair and the answers had led them here, she knew it was a given that they would have information about Samuel as well. Geneva shifted in her seat when she felt Samuel's hand become clammy inside hers.

“Yes, I am,” Samuel answered.

The detective pulled out a notepad and pen and asked Samuel the same question the other officer had just asked Geneva.

“I was here all night. Geneva and I went to bed around the same time and she woke up shortly before I did.”

“Were you here all night?” the detective asked.

Samuel nodded. “Yes, I was.”

Geneva heard a slight hitch in Samuel's voice. She looked at him and it occurred to her that he hadn't acted surprised when the detectives told them that Johnny was dead. Then she thought about last night. Samuel had given her a cup of herbal tea to relax her and Ambien to help her sleep. She'd rested so well that she didn't move a muscle until she awoke this morning.

It was clear to her that the detective's focus had squarely shifted from her to Samuel, and she didn't like where their line of questions was going. She couldn't sit silent and let this continue. “You don't think Samuel or I had anything to do with Johnny's death, do you?”

The shorter detective who'd first questioned her spoke up. “This is a homicide and we're investigating all leads, and any and all persons of interest.”

After more questions about the nature of Geneva's and Samuel's relationships with Johnny, the detectives wrapped things up and told them that they may be called down to the station for further questioning. The detectives left their cards and then walked out the door.

Geneva and Samuel sat on the couch in silence. She wanted him to say something but he remained as quiet as a mouse. She didn't want to think that Samuel had anything to do with Johnny's death. She'd fallen in love with him because he was kind, loyal, and true. He was the most decent man she'd ever known. But she also knew that every person, no matter how decent, had their limit, and once it was tested, anything could happen. Donetta had told her about Samuel's angry outburst in the emergency room, and his threat to kill Johnny.

“Samuel,” she began. “Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with Johnny's death.”

Samuel took a few minutes to answer before he turned and looked into her eyes. “Baby, I won't lie . . . a part of me takes a little relief in the fact that he's dead. But I didn't do it.” He held Geneva close to him. “He got what he deserved, but it wasn't at my hands.”

O
ver the next few weeks Amber was abuzz over the murder of Johnny Mayfield. Little by little the details of his demise were released and more suspects popped up each day.

There were nearly a dozen women whom Johnny had slept with in the last year, and each of them had been wronged by him in some way. Some of them were being blackmailed with compromising pictures that Johnny had taken and threatened to send to their or boyfriends and even their employers, if they didn't pay up. Two of the women had sent him threatening texts, vowing to get even with him. Not a single one of Johnny's conquests had anything good to say about the man. But they had all been one-night stands with airtight alibis, making the hunt for his killer that much tougher.

There were also dozens of people whom Johnny either owed money to, or had been involved in questionable real estate activities with that had gone south, leaving a sour taste in their mouths. But the dollar amount of his offenses had been low. Their weak motives and strong alibis had put them in the clear.

Then there were those who the detectives considered persons of considerable interest. The list consisted of a half dozen people, and they all had clear motives and good reasons for wanting to kill Johnny. Geneva, Samuel, Vivana, and Bernard were at the top of the list. They'd all suffered great pain, either emotional, physical, or financial, from their involvement with Johnny. Unlike the other suspects, their motives were strong but their alibis were weak. Then next in line came Donetta and Candace, whose known hatred of Johnny and public threats made against him put them high on the list of people who wanted to make him push up daisies.

Gossip swirled around them all, and it seemed every person in town had a theory about who killed Johnny.

The investigation dragged on for several months until the day the murder weapon was recovered. When the detectives charged Vivana Owens with the murder of Johnny Mayfield, no one was surprised. No one, that is, except Vivana herself.

Vivana was adamant that she didn't kill Johnny. “I was framed,” she'd said. Vivana refused to take a plea deal, and against the advice of her attorney, she took the stand in her own defense during the trial. She admitted that not only did she want to kill Johnny, she wanted to do away with Geneva as well. But someone got to him before she could, and therefore made her hesitant about carrying out revenge against Geneva.

After the prosecution finished with Vivana, it left very little doubt in anyone's mind that Johnny's ex-lover was guilty of the crime. After only an hour of deliberation, a jury reached a unanimous guilty verdict.

After the trial, as Vivana was transported from the county jail to a state correctional facility, she still maintained her innocence. “I didn't kill that son of a bitch. I was framed!” she was quoted in a jailhouse interview.

What people in Amber didn't know was that as guilty as Vivana appeared to be, there was someone living among them who was even guiltier.

Vivana had been telling the truth all along, and the one person who knew that she was innocent was the same person who murdered Johnny Mayfield in cold blood.

Councilwoman Charlene Harris felt a sense of relief the night she killed Johnny. She'd exacted revenge, not only for herself but for the countless other women whom Johnny had harmed in some way, just as he'd done to her.

After Charlene had separated from her husband she'd come out of her shell and was ready to enjoy life. She'd cut her hair, changed the way she dressed, and transformed herself into a happier version of the woman she used to be. She decided that she needed a fresh start. She wanted to create new memories going forward, and she couldn't do that living in the past. She decided to move out of the large, cold-feeling house she'd shared with her cheating husband, in favor of downsizing to a condo that would fit her newly single lifestyle.

She'd been referred to Johnny Mayfield by a friend who'd raved about his services. Charlene had no idea that Johnny was her hairstylist's husband. Geneva never spoke about her personal life, and when Charlene had met Johnny he hadn't been wearing a wedding band, and he'd even told her that he was single. His subtle seduction excited her, and made her feel more desirable than she had in years.

Before Charlene knew it, she was having passionate, wild sex with Johnny, and she'd enjoyed every hot, unadulterated minute of it. His youthfulness brought out the vixen in her that made her feel sexy and free. But that feeling was short-lived when Johnny's crazy mistress showed up and caused a scene that was reality TV–worthy. After narrowly escaping with her body bruised but intact, Charlene swore to herself that she'd never act impulsively again.

She thought that dark day was behind her until a month later when she received a letter at work from none other than Johnny Mayfield. He'd said he'd fallen on some hard times and he needed money. He gave her a number to call with an area code she didn't recognize, and later found out was a burner phone. When a week went by without her contacting him, he called her job and asked her for money. Charlene had balked. “I don't understand why you're calling me,” she'd told him. “Your financial problems are not my concern.”

“They are very much your concern,” he said in a voice that made it known that he was up to no good.

There had been a video camera set up in the closet of the vacant condo unit where Johnny had taken Charlene for their morning tryst. The camera was positioned directly across from the bed and had captured every illicit act the upstanding councilwoman had performed on him, and had received in return. Johnny threatened to upload the sex tape on porn websites and then mail copies to her children, friends, fellow council members, and, last but not least, the attorney representing her husband in their pending divorce.

Fearful that Johnny would make good on his threat, Charlene paid him hush money—in cash—every month. She hated being held hostage and she felt angrier and angrier each time she had to pay him, wondering when his blackmail scheme would ever end. Then one Saturday morning she got her answer when the house of cards came crashing down.

She'd made a last-minute hair appointment with her stylist on an early Saturday morning, and had been completely mortified when she saw Johnny's mistress approach Geneva's chair, demanding to take the very seat Charlene was sitting in. Even though the woman's hair was shorter and she had a blackened eye, no doubt a result of her own violent temper, Charlene still recognized her. But she was glad that the crazy woman was so preoccupied with Geneva doing her hair that she overlooked Charlene altogether. Charlene quickly ducked away to the waiting area, glad to lay low until the coast was clear. But she got another shock when she saw Johnny Mayfield walk through the door.

A light went off and illuminated what had been going on.

The man who'd been blackmailing her for months was her stylist's husband. Johnny had been so engrossed in the drama involving him, Geneva, and Vivana, that he hadn't noticed Charlene in the seating area when he first came in.

Not to her surprise, a terrible scene ensued. Charlene felt awful about what happened to Geneva, and when she realized that not only had Geneva been badly injured, she'd also lost the baby she was carrying, Charlene had had enough, and flew into a rage. She'd put up with a whoring, cheating, no-good husband for three decades, and she refused to let another woman suffer at the hands of a trifling, no-good man.

Charlene had stayed up late each night for a week, plotting Johnny's demise. On the night that she planned to kill him, she left her Mercedes in her garage and opted to drive the old Camry she used for weekend errands. She parked several blocks away from Johnny's house and walked quickly through the back alleys so she wouldn't be spotted. She walked up to Johnny's kitchen door and knocked. She couldn't believe how easy it had been, or how good it felt to pull the trigger of the pistol and watch her blackmailer fall to the ground.

Charlene thought about how she'd gotten away with murder as she sat behind her desk in her large office in City Hall. She was glad to put the murder of Johnny Mayfield behind her, and with Vivana Owens safely away in prison, she knew she was in the clear. But her eyes got big and her blood ran cold when she looked at the message that appeared from a blocked number on her cell phone.

 

 

Charlene's eyes widened and her mouth went dry. It took a few minutes for her to decide if she was going to respond. Finally she began to type.

 

 

Charlene dropped her phone as if it was wired with explosives. She sat behind her desk and for the first time since Johnny's murder, she no longer felt at peace.