Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A Chapter by My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

 

Chapter Twenty-One
 
 
After Fanny had been taken back to her cell Jerry returned to Jacoby’s office. Harold was sitting in a chair outside the closed door. Jacoby was standing at his desk talking on the phone.
 
Harold stood up as soon as he saw Jerry. “How is she? Can I see her now?”
 
“Soon, Harold. My guess is she has suffered some extreme trauma. It doesn’t look like she has any serious physical injury but I want to have her examined by a doctor – and a psychiatrist – as soon as we can arrange it.”
 
“Psychiatrist? Jerry, Fanny is the sanest person I know. You know that as well as I do.”
 
“She’s not herself, Harold. You have to keep that in mind when you see her. She doesn’t know who she is, Harold. She won’t know who you are.”
 
Harold sat back down and tried his best to digest what Jerry was telling him.
 
Jerry could see that Jacoby had finished his call. The detective looked perplexed and annoyed. Jerry knocked on the glass and Jacoby waved him in. “Wait here, Harold. I need to talk to Jacoby for a minute.”
 
He opened the door and immediately unleashed a tirade onto Jacoby. “Has Fanny Britt even been examined by a physician, Jacoby – or a psychiatrist. You’ve seen her. My client has obviously suffered a serious trauma. She doesn’t belong in a cell and you know it. She should be in a hospital.”
 
“Just wait a minute, Benson. Listen. That call I just had – I might as well tell you. It’s going to be all over the news soon.” Jacoby took a gnarled pencil out of the cup on his desk, put it in his mouth and began chewing the end. “That call was from the Sheriff’s office in Calvert County. He wanted to let me know that they’d just discovered the body of another tattoo artist just outside of Prince Frederick. He had been stabbed in both eyes.”
 


© 2008 My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer


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Added on February 7, 2008


Author

My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer
My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

Falls Church, VA



About
My first novel was inspired by my own childhood on Pungo Creek in rural North Carolina where I grew up in a house shared by three generations. It seems it took a lifetime to write but it was actually.. more..

Writing