Time of death?
May 23, 2011 § 8 Comments
“You wouldn’t think to look at her, but Angela was a drifter. A hardened, highly conditioned drifter with streets-smarts. There wasn’t much you could get past her but she wasn’t well educated and she could hardly read.
Angela had been moving from town to town since she was a little girl, in fact she was 10 years old when she ran away from home. Apparently, it was after a disagreement with her . . er . . stepfather . . . or something or other . . . anyway . . . she packed a small ruck-sack and hadn’t been seen since, by her family.
Angela had lived in over 50 different towns across all states, from Nevada to D.C. She seemed to be enjoying the lifestyle and the people she had met along the way. She was on her way back home when it happened.
It was the 4th April 1968 – I believe. It just happened to be Angela’s 16th birthday. She had travelled from Jackson, down highway 40 towards Memphis, accompanied by a man by the name of Martin King. Who was a travelling preacher of some kind. He had no previous, so we had no reason to detain him, for any length of time.
They travelled for a day or two ’till they arrived in Memphis. He mentioned that she had asked where a motel was, just somewhere she could stay for a night. He told her there was a lovely motel called the Lorraine Motel on Mulberry Street. He was going to stay there until Angela had mentioned the local flood warnings he decided to continue to the next town.
King dropped Angela off at the motel, he wished her well and went on his way. We caught up with him two days later in Madison. He was extremely cooperative when questioned. He did mention one thing which the other officers felt was a little odd. Apparently, she had a clock in her hands and didn’t put it down – at all. His description of the alarm clock was even odder – it constantly showed the wrong time, it beeped at 6.01pm on both days, had a large orange and green lettering on the top, which read – “Time to Die”.
King had asked her whether she knew what it read and she told him that she thought it said, “Time Today”, cos that’s what her stepfather had told her. He mentioned to her that it was an unorthodox alarm clock and she replied with, ‘it was the only thing her stepfather had given her. It showed the time and date of the last time she had seen him’. He also mentioned that Angela started to cry, so asked her if she wanted a paper towel. She quizzingly replied with, “paper towns?, that made him laugh out loud, which made her laugh. He said she was fine for a time afterwards. It’s all in the report, you can read it yourself – honestly, I don’t know why you are asking me again.
Mr King had asked about her reasons for leaving, all he could say was, something along the lines of – ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time and she had to get away from that bastard . . ‘. He was shocked at her outburst, she looked so sweet and innocent, not the type to cuss.
All I can tell you is; She entered room 306 at 5:45pm, it was in the left hand corner, on the top floor of the motel, at 6.01pm shots were heard coming from her room and she was found dead soon after. Witnesses have stated that there had been a visitor to her room 5 minutes after she had arrived but he was never identified, there wasn’t any evidence, but you know that.
I’m sorry – I have said enough, we must conclude. ”
“Mr Ray, is it?. I didn’t know that actually – thank you, interesting. More importantly, how is it that you know all of this? If Angela hadn’t been seen since she ran away from home, how could you have known where she had been and what she had done? It just doesn’t add up.” questioned Gez. Gerry Posner was a reporter from the Memphis Flyer. He was currently writing a novel on the mysterious death of Angela Davis.
“I never said I’d spoken to her.” replied Commissioner James Ray – the officer in charge of the investigation at the time.
Sharply, Ray stood from his chair, leant forward to where Posner was sitting and pointed towards to the door. “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
“But, you said she wasn’t . . . . educated, how did you know?. . . you said —”
“THANK YOU, whatever-your-name-is . . . “. Ray rudely interrupted. “That’s all the time I have.”
“It’s not all the time you gave Angela is it Commissioner Ray? You’re her . . . . . . . ”
This piece was inspired by the remaining prompts on the bekindrewrite site from their InMon XII page. I have just started writing. I am using my blog to experiment and find my natural style, so this won’t be the best story you have ever read. This is the first time I have written in this way and have found it an interesting challenge. I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!