The Secret Life Of Jeanne Bell

What in the hell is taking him so long? I thought. I looked at my watch to make sure it wasn't wrong; however, the clock on the restaurant wall confirmed that it was working just fine. It was ten minutes after four and Cutlass had not shown up. Cutlass, Willy, or whatever the fuck your name is you have ten more minutes.

I ran my fingers through my newly straightened hair. I decided to come up out of my braids and let it all hang loose. Dorothy, my beautician, hooked up my hair earlier (My salon appointments were scheduled every Friday at 9:00 a.m. I loved being ahead of the rush). She fixed it into a nice ponytail that hung over my left shoulder. I did not realize how long my hair had grown until Dorothy took it down. "Girl, you have some beautiful hair! You need to cut this ponytail and let me have it." She teased.

I was wearing my form fitting, baby blue, Fubu sweat suit, and Nike sneakers. I had on my Versace sunglasses as well. I decided that I would do the hip hop casual thing today.

Earlier that day, I took the Subway to 125th street and immediately found the restaurant, 'Mama's Soul food Shack.' I had heard of the place, but I never ate there. Soul food is way too fattening. If I was going to stay in tip top condition I had to maintain my weight (125 pounds). I am very particular about what goes into my body.

The soul food shack was a quaint, out-of-the way, little spot that locals flocked too on a daily basis. You could never pass by it without seeing a line going out the front door. If there weren't enough seats people were just as happy to order out. On the inside it resembled an old grandma's house. The table cloths looked like elaborately embroidered quilts, and the walls were lined with pictures of great African American leaders: Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Sojourner Truth, and Frederick Douglass (Just to name a few).

Mama's Soul Food Shack gave you the feeling of being at home. It was too bad that the service was no damn good. I swear some people should never take public service positions. The waitresses all had chips on their shoulders the size of Mt. Rushmore. The one who took my order-Patrice-had a permanent scowl on her face (Well, If I had on a wig that looked like a dead rodent I'd be pissed too). "Whatchu want?" She asked. Patrice rolled her eyes so hard that I thought she was going to fall asleep.

I ordered a piece of chicken, candied yams, and green peas. Even though I was pissed with her attitude I decided to be really nice. I did not want cyanide mixed in with my tea.

As I awaited my food I sifted through the stack of print outs that Kenny made for me. I had read through them, over and over again, during the course of the day. I was mortified by what I had uncovered. But, I still felt compelled to read the files again and again, hoping beyond hope that I had been deciphering something wrong, that my eyes had deceived me in some way. I tried telling myself that this was just some elaborate hoax, concocted by someone who hated Jeanne Bell. But I knew that no one would-or could-go that far. Each time I leafed through the mug shots tears fell from my eyes unbidden (I had to reapply my eyeliner three times in one day), even now, after several viewings. Mental Note: Get some waterproof Mascara Nikki, I thought.

No matter how hard I tried I could not process it. It was as if my mind were a broken computer unable to convert the new information. The entire concept of my mother being a career criminal just didn't make any sense.

After I left the beauty Salon I went to the public Library to meet up with Kenny. I told Aunt Dee-Dee that I was going to help him study for his final exams, and afterwards we were just going to hang out all day. Kenny agreed to stay away from home so that the lie would be more believable.

I entered into the library with great trepidation. My soul felt divided. I was still antsy about what had happened between Kenny and I the night before. Nevertheless, my overwhelming sense of foreboding made that moment seem insignificant in comparison.

"Nikki, over here." Kenny whispered. I saw him sitting, in the corner, at a small out of the way table, next to a large book shelf. He had on his Allan Houston Jersey, jeans, and Timberland boots. Kenny's braids were neatly done, and he looked really good.

I quickly tip-toed over to where he sat and placed my brown leather handbag on the table. My heart fluttered as my stomach did summersaults,

"Did you find anything?" I asked.

Kenny smiled, "Girl, you know me. Of course I did." He leaned over and placed his back pack on the table, "Good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"

My entire expression changed. I felt like I was going to be sick, "Good news..." I said.

Kenny gave me a somber look as he reached out and touched my hand. I didn't pull away. "The good news is that I found the information on Willy Hudson and Vernita Green..." He leaned in closer, "I had to do some illegal shit to get it off the net, so you owe me." He furthered.

Now, you might be wondering how Kenny was able to get a hold of that information. Well, I did not call him a computer whiz for nothing. Kenny was a computer hacker extraordinaire. If there was a database-no matter how complicated-he knew how to get into it, and cover his tracks. Kenny was not a malicious hacker (so you don't have to worry about him sending you a Trojan horse if he gets pissed). He was just curious. He stole a lot of information from government files. He left the FBI and CIA alone because as much as he liked to hack he did not want to go to prison. He had a really cute online handle too, SamuraiBlack (He liked to represent his African American/Japanese roots).

I managed a pathetic smile, "Thanks Ken...Now the bad news."

"The bad news is that I don't think you're going to like what I have to show you."

"I'm a big girl, Kenny. I can take it." My voice quivered as I spoke. Imagine the irony.

"Alright, I did an extensive search on Willy Hudson. There are several Willy Hudson's around the country, so I narrowed it down to the ones in our area..."

"And?"

"Willy Hudson died August 1, 1950. I even pulled up his obituary off the internet." He said, as he produced two color photo copies.

I studied both of them. The death certificate and obituary were authentic.

The picture did not look anything like the man I had seen on the subway the other day, "Wait a minute. This isn't him. This isn't Willy Hudson." I said.

"No, this isn't Cutlass. This is Willy Hudson though. I got that out of the funeral home database where he's buried. Before you ask I also checked out the twenty other Willy Hudson's-in the country-and none of them fit the description that you gave me." Kenny then gave me a dozen other files: Birth certificates, death certificates, and even wedding invitations.

I went through the Information like a whirling dervish, "So, do you think he is using a fake name?"

That son of a bitch, I thought.

"Well, yeah? Identity thieves do it all the time. The majority of the time they take the identity of a dead person. Think about it, what is the probability of incident when you're dealing with dead folks? " Kenny said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "And before you ask I did a combination search regarding 'Cutlass' and 'Willy Hudson' and it turned up nothing. Damn Nikki, I am glad you came to me with this. Do you think it's wise to see this dude, by yourself?"

"Well, we're meeting at a public spot. Besides, I can take care of myself. You know that."

"Yeah I do. But you're my girl, and I worry about you sometimes. If you need me to I can tag along..." He suggested.

"What did you find on Vernita Green?" I abruptly changed the subject.

Kenny let loose an audible sigh. He pulled out an even bigger file and plopped it down on the table. He looked at me as my eyes stayed riveted upon the immense stack of papers.

"Nikki, look at me..." He said in a stern voice.

I looked up and into his eyes. The solemn look on his face spoke volumes. Kenny had never looked at me like that before. His expression was almost paternal.

It's not too late to back out of this Nikkia. Quit while you are ahead! I thought.

"I can put all this stuff away. You don't have to see this, unless you are sure this is what you want. Are you sure?" He asked.

"I am." I replied, my voice barely above an audible whisper.

Kenny slid the stack of papers over to me. I noticed his hand shake as he did so.

I took them into my own and proceeded to look at each one, individually.

A spine tingling chill crawled over my spine like a tarantula. The first page was merely a cover sheet,

"Juvenile file for: Green, Vernita. 1984."

When I flipped the page an audible gasped escaped my lips, "Jesus-" I whispered.

I immediately recognized the young, stunningly beautiful, dark countenance of my mother, Jeanne Bell. I knew in my gut it was her. Every subtle flaw, beauty mark, and facial expression was reminiscent of the woman that loved and protected me during my early childhood. Only in these pictures she looked hard, cold, and rugged. There was nothing soft and maternal about her.

Vernita Alexa Green

Sex: Female

Race: Black American

Alias: 'Mean' Vernita Green

D.O.B: 1-1-1970

Height: 5'7

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 120

Hair: curly

Vernita Green was arrested, July 1st 1984, for assault with a deadly weapon, with intent to kill. Intended victim was nearly knifed to death with a switch blade that she carried in her purse. Vernita was sentenced to three months in juvenile detention and one year probation.

As I continued to sift through the files and overwhelming sense of nausea, and grief, began to well up inside me.

Vernita Green had a rap sheet at least fifty miles long: Vandalism, armed robbery, assault, breaking and entering, disturbing the peace, shop lifting, grand larceny, and god knew what else. In the span of a few minutes I had gone through my mother's entire criminal history.

"Wait, I have some more..." Kenny said.

"Excuse me Kenny." I said, as I leapt out of my chair and ran to the nearest bathroom. I entered a stall and collapsed to the ground like a sack of stones. I broke down and bawled like a newborn infant. I could not stop weeping, no matter how hard I tried. It felt like my mother had died all over again. The person I knew and loved was not the woman I had seen in those mug shots. I refused to accept it, but nevertheless I believed it. I had too. The proof was there as bold as daylight.

I heard a knock at the bathroom door.

"Nikki, you okay in there?" asked Kenny.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in just a second." I said, my voice trembling. I heard Kenny walk away from the door. I finally composed myself enough to go to the bathroom sink. I removed my contact lenses and proceeded to douse my skin with cold water. I kept hoping that I was stuck inside a nightmare, and that cold water would help me wake up. No such luck. I looked at my, now, bare face in the mirror and zoned out.

Suddenly, something weird happened. It was downright scary. The mirror clouded up with steam (where it came from I don't know). I wiped my hand across it. I no longer saw my own reflection. I saw her staring back at me, my mother, Vernita. I don't know if I was hallucinating or what, but I swear she was looking at me. She wore black lipstick, eye shadow, and a golden stud in her nose. Her hair was plaited to her scalp, and the look on her face was one of arrogance and bravado. This woman looked like she could have stepped into the ring with Mike Tyson and kicked his ass.

I blinked my eyes several times, and when I reopened them only my image remained. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I reapplied my make up and went back into the library. All of the patrons were staring at me like I was crazy. Well, after my outburst I would have questioned my sanity as well.

Kenny had a very concerned look on his face, "Look Nikki, we can stop right here. I know this has to be hard-"

"Kenny, I would not have asked you to do this if I didn't want to know." I said, as I settled back into my chair, "I can handle this. If I can make it after witnessing my mother get killed, then I think I can handle everything else."

Kenny removed another file and passed it over to me.

It was a wanted poster, circa 1990.

WANTED: Vernita Green

CHARGE: Four counts of Murder In The First Degree

Sex: Female

Race: Black American

Alias: 'Mean' Vernita Green

D.O.B: 1-1-1970

Height: 5'7

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 120

Hair: curly

Vernita Green is wanted for the Murders of: Antonio Lucano, Edward Filano, Mason Grey, Charleston Baltimore, and Lucinda Caldwell. These three individuals were all knifed to death with a large machete, after being shot in the knee caps at close range. Vernita Green was tied to the murders after leaving a fingerprint at the scene of The Lucano crime scene.

This suspect is considered armed and extremely dangerous.

I looked up at Kenny who had an uneasy look on his face. I had seen everything else, so it did not surprise me that she had murder on her resume, "What is it?" I asked, "Is there anything else?"

"I found this..." He replied as he passed me another file.

My face contorted into a mask of horror, "What in the hell is this?"

Kenny had just handed me the death certificate and autopsy report of Vernita Green.

I skimmed through all of the particulars and focused on the more important details: D.O.B: 1-1-1970/ D.O.D: 7-25-1990.

"Wanted murder suspect, Vernita Green, was found dead in the driver's seat of her car after a bomb went off. Suspect was wanted for several murders that had gone unsolved throughout the New York City Tri-state area." I silently mouthed. A sudden sigh of relief came over me,

"So this has to mean that Vernita and mother couldn't be the same person, right?" I lied to myself. I knew Kenny would have told me if that were the case.

Kenny nodded his head no, "I took the liberty of uncovering an updated autopsy report. DNA evidence is used quite frequently now, especially in unsolved cases."

"Unsolved, what do you mean?"

"The NYPD crime lab did a DNA follow up. They tried to match genetic material from your mother to that of the body in the car. The updated test results were not a match. The body in that car was not Vernita Green's."

"Then whose was it? Why didn't they say anything?"

My anxiety kicked in again. I knew it was too good to be true.

"It was a Jane Doe. They said she was probably a ho or a crack fiend. Someone put her in there to make it look like Vernita died. As far as your second question goes common sense should tell you that. When crimes are left unresolved for so long they call them cold cases. As long as Vernita Green was 'dead' and nowhere near New York then it's all gravy for them. Look at it like this, a hooker and a felon. As long as they're both off the streets do you really think the cops are going to give a damn? To let news like this out would make the NYPD seem totally incompetent."

Kenny, like always, had a point. He was very analytical and I knew when he searched he was going to go all out,

"So are you saying that she could have faked her death?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

I stood up from my chair and looked at my watch. It was three O'clock.

"I'm going to meet him, Ken. I have to put this together. He has the answers. I know he does." I said.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Kenny said, as he took my hand into his.

"I'm sure. He probably won't talk to me if you tag along." I picked up my bag and reached for the files, "Can I have these?"

"Yeah, just don't show them to anyone. And don't tell who got em for you either."

"I won't." I smiled as I started to walk away. For the first time in along time I felt genuinely insecure. I felt just like Sarah when she entered the Labyrinth. I was going way over my head, but I had to take the plunge.

"Nikki..."

I turned around and saw Kenny sidle up alongside me,

"I wanted to talk about last night..." He whispered.

"Sure." I said, unable to find any other words at that particular moment.

"I know you and I are friends but what happened last night meant a lot to me." He put his hands in his pockets and started fidgeting around, "Look, I don't know how to say it so I'll just say it. I got mad love for you. I can't even lie about it anymore, and I know you are feelin me too."

I looked up at him and smiled. That was the sweetest thing any guy had ever said to me. My lips started to tremble as I forced a smile. I was feeling so many things at that moment. My mind was racing, but in that instant all I focused on was Kenny, "I love you too Ken, but..." I paused, "Now is not the best time for me to pursue a relationship. Right now I need you to just be my friend." I said.

He looked disappointed, "You have that, always." He said.

We embraced in a hug before I finally left.

I fiddled around with the food on my plate as I awaited Cutlass's arrival. Just thinking about what I now knew caused me to lose my appetite. I checked my watch again.

Suck it up girl. He'll be here.