Part 27 (1/2)
Shannon stepped to the microphone.
”I'd like to dedicate this concert to a very special person,” Shannon said. ”Her name is Jesse Barre. She had beauty inside her. And she created beauty in everything she did.”
I stole a glance at Clarence. He was already starting to cry.
”She made this guitar,” Shannon said, and she lifted it off her chest away from her toward the crowd. It truly looked spectacular under the lights. The very embodiment of beauty.
”She also had just begun to write songs, before her life was tragically taken from her.”
Clarence stood, and Shannon looked at him.
”I'm going to record her songs and put out a CD next year,” Shannon said. ”The proceeds of which will go to the Jesse Barre Foundation.”
The crowd applauded and I admired Shannon. She was trying to do the right thing.
”Here's a little something she wrote. I don't know if she had her father in mind when she wrote it, but I had a feeling she did.”
Shannon put the pick to the strings and the song seemed to flow out of her. I thought of all the tragedy, the killing and lives wasted over the music I was hearing now.
I hugged Anna.
I hugged the girls And I even hugged Clarence.
Shannon was right.
Jesse Barre created beauty.
I was seeing it right now.
Forty-eight.
Ellen was in a meeting with a task force from Wayne County formed to track down a prost.i.tution ring that was believed to be bringing in teenage girls against their will from cities like Chicago and Cleveland.
I sat in Ellen's office, listening to the cop chatter in the hallways, the traffic out on Mack Avenue.
For the first time in my life, I felt hope. Hope that one day I might catch the man who killed Benjamin Collins. They say that you never know what life will bring you. That what initially appears to be great misfortune can often turn into great opportunities.
When Teddy Armbruster showed up on my boat, I thought it was all over.
Now, I realized, it was a new beginning.
”Haven't you given me enough paperwork to deal with?” Ellen said, breezing into her office, the leather of her gunbelt creaking like an old saddle.
”Hey, I'm just another taxpayer making sure I get my money's worth. Public servants like you need to be kept to task, my dear,” I said.
”G.o.d you're such an a.s.s,” she said.
”I want the Benjamin Collins file.”
She laughed outright. ”Oh, sure. A private citizen demanding police files open cases at that. What next? You want a shotgun? Borrow a squad car? Take a couple Kevlar vests for the kids?”
”The case is open?” I asked.
”Did I say that?” she said.
”Yeah, you did.”
”Well, I guess it is, then.”
”Had it been moved from the cold case files?”
She didn't answer that right away.
”Come on, Ellen, it's me, John. Your brother.”
This softened her just a bit, although she still didn't say anything.
”Has Teddy started talking?” I asked.
Armbruster was busted in Chicago, trying to go undercover with his Mob friends, but he got caught on a FBI surveillance camera going into a house. He was brought back to Detroit the day before.