“Or it could.” I shrugged. “He loves black women, but is ashamed of it—”
“Sean is not the Angel Maker.”
I held in my skepticism. “How did you two meet?”
“We went to school together.” Haven looked out the window. “It was a typical nerd meets jock situation. He was a quarterback failing Algebra. The coach was going to hold him back from football games, if he didn’t get his grade up.”
“So, you tutored him?”
“No.” She laughed. “I made him pay me ten dollars to do his math assignments. When we had a test, he sat next to me. The answers were always multiple-choice A to D. I wrote my letters huge so he could see them.”
“How much did that cost him?”
“Twenty dollars every exam.”
“Did he pass?”
“Sean and I were the highest students in the class, and he ended up being the Most Valued Player of the season.” She gazed off in the distance with a silly expression on her face. “During Christmas break, the idiot snuck into my neighborhood, climbed my back fence, and tapped on my window. If my father had caught Sean, he would’ve shot him. It doesn’t matter what race or age he was. According to my father, nobody could get close to me.”
“He sounded like a good father.”
“He was, and very protective.” She sighed. “Either way, Sean brought me a bouquet from the gas station, ice cream, and a calculator. I didn’t need a freaking calculator, but it was the thought that counted. After a while, Sean continued to sneak to my house, and we would just talk at first.”
“And then it became more?”
“Much more.”
I wasn’t a fan of their history. If Sean became a suspect, it would cause conflict with the case. I liked to think that it was the only reason these details annoyed me. However, I didn’t like the idea of a young Sean sneaking into Haven’s room. I didn’t want to say it was jealousy, but I had no other emotion to point to.
I cleared my throat and decided to change the subject, not wanting to hear more of their love affair. “How are his parents? Did you know his father and mother well?”
“His father knew something weird was going on with Sean. Lots of sneaking off in the middle of the night. Reverend Thompson followed Sean to my house one evening. Dad was off at work. Cops do crazy hours. Mom was at church for something. I pretended to be sick. By this time, Sean and I were doing more than eating ice cream and talking.”
“Reverend Thompson got an eyeful?”
“He went crazy and took us down to the police station to give me to my father. The whole town knew by the next day.”
“You two stopped then?”
“Not really. We tried, sneaked back a few times, and then we graduated.”
They have a lot of history. Too much.
I frowned. “Tell me more about his parents.”
“Sean’s father used to be a Reverend of a church, although he still expects to be called Reverend Thompson. No one would ever let him head a church again. They said he stole lots of money and put the past church in a quarter million in debt. They ended up closing the building and selling it.”
“What’s the building used for now?”
“I think it’s a restaurant that plays jazz, but I don’t know if it’s still here. I haven’t been back in years. For the holidays, I’ve been flying my mother to me. She likes getting away from Fullbrooke and shopping in DC. It’s fun for her. Last Christmas I took her to the Bahamas.”
“You’re a good daughter.”
“It’s all guilt for leaving her here by herself, but she refuses to move up to DC and stay with me. Claims she doesn’t want to get in my way.” Haven shook her head. “Regardless, Reverend Thompson has a reputation for being a cheat. Sean used to talk about it sometimes when we were teens. He claimed his father would go over to Colesville and hook up with the Spanish and Black girls on the downlow.”
“Interesting. So, Reverend Thompson isn’t that much of a racist as the town thinks?”
“He’s messed up in the head for sure. Publicly, he is as racist as can be without sounding too politically incorrect. Behind doors, apparently, he’s butt naked and chasing women of color around the bed, trying to give it to them.”
I laughed. “And Sean’s mother?”
“His mother owns Sweet’s Beauty Salon downtown. Her nickname is Sweets by the way.”
“A beauty salon.” I quirked my brows. “Sean could’ve learned about hot combs from there.”
Haven held a smirk. “No black woman or girl has ever stepped into Sweet’s Beauty Salon to get their hair done. If they did, they would get a bunch of eyes cutting their flesh and screwed faces.”
“Black women aren’t allowed in that salon?”
“There’s no sign, but everybody knows.”
“So, his mother is a racist beautician. How was her relationship with Sean?”
“He’s a mama’s boy. Every Sunday, he’s next to her at church. By that evening, he’s at her dinner table smiling and eating her food. He has three other brothers and one sister, but that’s her baby. She keeps him close and doesn’t want him to move out of town. Even if he found a nice white Christian girl to marry, she probably would lose her mind.”
“He’s with her every Sunday?” I stopped us at the red light. “Didn’t Sean come to visit you in Quantico and even during your college years?”
“He did, but he always jumped on the plane by Saturday evening. He couldn’t miss church or Sunday dinner with his mother. When I was younger, I thought it was cute.”
“And now?”
“I think he should just marry his mother.”
“Can’t have sex with his mother.”
“Can’t have sex with me either.”
For a few minutes, I wondered about how sex would be with Haven. It was a very natural thing for a man to do, so I didn’t beat myself up too much. All day I tried my best to see Haven as a fellow colleague in the field. But that perfume and that gorgeous smile kept having my mind stray.
And so, as we drove toward Sean Thompson’s house in silence, I wondered how Haven sounded when she moaned. Did she dominate her lover in bed? Did she take charge as she did in the field? Or did she like her man to be rough and the boss between the sheets?
I licked my lips and pushed those thoughts out of my head.
Tomorrow, she must ride with Stein. I’m not behaving.
I’d gone from wanting her completely off the unit for her safety to now imagining her naked and in my bed. I needed sleep and a fresh perspective.
This case. This town. It is all making me crazy. She can’t ride with me tomorrow.
Chapter 8
Honeybee
Alexander
We arrived at Sean’s house minutes later.
It was a middle-class neighborhood. I figured several families lived here—hardworking parents and no more than three kids. A lot of the houses were two level with small yards in the front. A few girls jumped rope on the sidewalk. A man pulled his car into the driveway. A woman walked her poodle. Everyone was white, and they all glanced our way as we parked the car in front of Sean’s house.