The morning at the Puit house began as usual
The morning at the Puit house began as usual.
Leticia slipped out from under the covers first, trying not to wake her snoring husband.
Ebenezer worked the second shift as a security guard at the Richmond Plaza Shopping Center and could afford to sleep in.
She went quietly into the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her face.
The wrinkles around her eyes were becoming more noticeable with each passing year.
44 wasn’t a lot, but the hard life and constant tension had left their marks.
Leticia pulled a small cosmetic bag of hormones out of the cabinet under the sink.
20 years of taking them, and not once had Ebenezer asked about the pills she took everyday, women’s vitamins, she called them when it came to medication.
Her husband was never interested in the details.
She swallowed the pill with tap water and began the morning ritual of transformation.
By the time Ebenezer woke up, the sleepy and tired Leticia would be gone, replaced by a well-groomed woman with perfect makeup and styled hair.
Even at home, even for her husband, with whom she had lived for 15 years, she could not afford to look as good as she looked.
Leticia went into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast, scrambled eggs with bacon, strong coffee, everything as Ebenezer liked.
During 15 years of marriage, she had learned his habits and preferences by heart.
Their relationship could not be called passionate, but it was stable, and that was the most important thing for Leticia.
Stability was a luxury she had never had in her childhood and adolescence.
“Good morning, baby,” her husband’s voice rumbled, and his heavy footsteps were heard on the stairs.
Ebenezer Puit was a large man with broad shoulders and an impressive belly.
Despite his age, 47, he was still physically strong, which helped him in his job as a security guard.
His dark skin glistened after a shower, and his short hair was still damp.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Leticia smiled, strained, trying to hide the discomfort she’d been feeling for the past few days.
“Breakfast is almost ready”.
“You look pale today,” Eenezer remarked, sitting down at the table.
“Are you sore again?” Leticia nodded without elaborating.
For the past month, she’d been bothered by strange pains in her lower abdomen.
At first, she dismissed them as age and stress, but they’d gotten worse.
“I made an appointment with doctor.
Thanks for today,” she said, setting her breakfast plate in front of her husband.
“4:00”.
“Good,” Ebenezer grumbled, pouring himself a second helping.
“It’s about time.
Just don’t forget to go grocery shopping after the doctor”.
The refrigerator was almost empty.
Leticia nodded and sat down across from him with a cup of coffee.
She barely touched her portion.
There was no appetite.
Chantel called yesterday, she said, changing the subject.
Asked if we could come to her birthday party next Saturday.
Ebenezer frowned.
It’s Chantel again.
She’s always organizing things.
Who’s going to be there? Her weird friends again.
Ordinary people.
Ebenezer.
Leticia sighed.
I’ve known her for a long time.
She’s my best friend.
She knows too much about you,” her husband grumbled.
“Sometimes I think you tell her more than you tell me”.
Leticia remained silent.
Chantel really did know more about her than anyone else, including her husband.
She was the only one Leticia had told about her past, about who she had been before the transition.
And only Shantel had supported her all these years, helping her keep the secret from Ebenezer.
I have to go to work.
Leticia got up from the table, gathering the dishes.
Lots of customers today.
The Crown of Beauty Hair Salon, where Leticia worked, was a 20-minute walk from their home.
The small salon catered mostly to local women.
And in the 6 years she’d worked there, Leticia had earned a reputation as a master who could be trusted with the most complicated hairstyles.
“Don’t forget the doctor’s appointment,” Ebenezer reminded, finishing his coffee.
“And call me afterward to tell me what she said”.
Leticia nodded and started to get ready.
When she was already at the door, Ebenezer called out to her.
Hey, baby.
I love you.
You know that, right? I know.
Leticia replied quietly.
I love you, too.
The workday flew by.
The constant flow of clients, gossip, the sound of the haird dryer, and the clicking of scissors.
The usual atmosphere of the salon usually calmed Leticia.
But today, she felt a growing anxiety.
The visit to the gynecologist caused her mixed feelings.
On the one hand, she wanted to know the cause of the pain.
On the other hand, she was afraid that questions about her past might arise.
Dr. Nefertiti Banks had been her gynecologist for several years, but Leticia had never told her about her transgender transition.
Her last routine checkups had been quick without in-depth exams, and she’d managed to avoid uncomfortable questions.
But now that the pain had set in, it was becoming more dangerous to hide the truth.
At 15:30, Leticia finished with her last client and began to pack for the clinic.
She’d chosen this private practice because of the good reviews and relative anonymity.
There was less chance of meeting people she knew from the neighborhood.
Dr. Banks’s clinic was located in a modern building in downtown Richmond.
The air conditioned air and dim lighting created an atmosphere of calm, but Leticia’s heart beat faster and faster as she called her name to the receptionist.
Mrs. Puit, Dr. Banks will see you in 10 minutes”.
The young girl behind the counter smiled.
“Please fill out this form”.
Leticia sat down in the far corner of the waiting room and began filling out the medical form.
When she reached the section on surgeries undergone, her hand trembled.
After a moment’s hesitation, she left the box blank.
At exactly 16:00, a nurse called her into the office.
Dr. Dr. Nefertiti Banks, an elegant woman with short dreadlocks, greeted her with a professional smile.
Mrs. Puit, it’s good to see you.
What’s troubling you? Leticia described her symptoms.
Dull pain in her lower abdomen, sometimes radiating to her back, intermittent dizziness.
She spoke carefully, choosing her words so as not to reveal her secret.
“Okay, let’s do an exam,” Dr. Banks said.
“Get changed, and I’ll be back in 5 minutes”.
Left alone, Leticia felt panic come over her in a wave.
She slowly changed into her hospital shirt.
Mentally preparing herself for the inevitable questions.
The examination began with the usual procedures, taking her blood pressure, checking her lymph nodes.
But when it came to the gynecological exam, Dr. Banks froze, then slowly raised her eyes to Leticia.
Mrs. Puit, her voice became noticeably colder.
You didn’t indicate on the form that you had undergone gender reassignment surgery.
Leticia felt the blood rush from her face.
I didn’t think it was relevant to your current symptoms.
It has everything to do with your health, Dr. Banks said sternly.
How long ago was the surgery performed? 20 years ago, Leticia answered quietly.
In another state.
Dr. Banks nodded and continued her examination, asking more specific questions about the post-operative period and hormone therapy.
Leticia answered quietly, waiting with growing fear for the diagnosis.
The pain you’re experiencing could be related to complications from the surgery, Dr. Banks finally said, finishing her examination.
We’ll need to do more tests.
I’ll schedule an ultrasound and labs.
At that moment, the office door opened without a knock, and the massive figure of Ebenezer appeared in the doorway.
Leticia, he looked worried.
I finished my shift early and thought I’d pick you up.
The receptionist said you were here.
Leticia froze with her mouth open, unable to utter a word.
Dr. Banks, not understanding the situation, continued in a professional tone.
Ah, Mr. Puit, we’re just discussing the necessary tests with your wife.
Given the post-operative features and the duration of hormone therapy, we need to rule out what postoperative features.
Ebenezer frowned, shifting his gaze from the doctor to his wife.
What are you talking about? There was a long pause.
Dr. Banks slowly shifted her gaze to Leticia, who sat pale as a sheet.
He doesn’t know, she asked quietly.
Leticia shook her head slowly, unable to look at her husband.
Don’t know what? Ebenezer’s voice grew louder.
Leticia, what’s going on? Dr. Banks tried to smooth things over.
Perhaps we should continue this conversation when Mrs. Puit is ready to discuss.
No.
Ebenezer interrupted her sharply.
I want to know now.
What are you keeping from me? Leticia finally looked up at her husband.
Ebenezer, please.
Let’s talk at home.
This is private.
Private from me? I’m your husband.
Damn it.
He turned to the doctor.
Tell me what’s going on.
Dr. Banks found herself in a difficult ethical situation.
She looked at Leticia seeking her permission, but saw only fear and despair in her patients eyes.
“Minus Mr. Puit, I can’t discuss medical details without the patients consent,” she finally said.
“But perhaps you and your wife should talk about her medical history”.
“What history?” Ebenezer stepped closer to Leticia.
“Are you sick? Do you have cancer? What have you been hiding from me all these years?” Leticia felt panic rise to her throat.
15 years of marriage, 15 years of dreading this moment.
She knew Ebenezer was conservative, knew of his prejudices, and feared his reaction more than anything.
“Yeah,” she stammered, trying to find the words.
“I’m not quite who you thought I was, Ebenezer”.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounded threatened.
“20 years ago, I had gender reassignment surgery”.
The words came out in one breath.
“I was born a man”.
The silence that followed those words was deafening.
Ebenezer froze, his face expressionless.
Dr. Banks backed cautiously toward the door, realizing she was witnessing an extremely private moment.
You what? Ebenezer finally spoke, his voice unnaturally calm.
“I’m a transgender woman,” Leticia said quietly but firmly.
“I’ve always felt like a woman, even when I was outwardly a man.
I had surgery before we met.
Ebenezer’s face began to change, the calmness replaced by a grimace of disgust and rage.
Are you a man? His voice rose to a shout.
I’ve been living with a man for 15 years.
No, Ebenezer, I am a woman.
Leticia stood up, trying to maintain her dignity.
I’ve always been a woman on the inside.
The surgery only made my body fit.
Shut up.
Ebenezer slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.
You’ve been lying to me all these years, you you monster.
Minus Mr. Puit, please calm down.
Doctor Banks intervened, pressing the security call button under the desk.
This kind of reaction is not going to help solve you.
Stay out of this, Ebenezer shouted, turning to the doctor.
This is between me and this this cheater.
Leticia used the moment to grab her bag and clothes.
I have to go, she said, heading for the door.
We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.
Stop.
Ebenezer rushed after her, but Dr. Banks got in his way.
Minus Mr. Puit, I’ve called security.
If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to.
Ebenezer pushed her away and ran out into the hallway.
Leticia was already down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
She heard her husband’s heavy footsteps behind her and his shouts.
Come back here.
You won’t just leave.
15 years.
15 years you’ve been deceiving me.
Leticia ran out of the clinic into the street, looking around for a cab or bus.
The sun was already setting.
The streets of downtown Richmond were filled with evening passers by.
She darted toward the intersection, hoping to get lost in the crowd.
Ebenezer sprinted out of the clinic building, his eyes searching the street wildly.
Spotting Leticia, he shouted, “Stop, you pervert!” and rushed after her.
Leticia turned down a side street leading to less busy neighborhoods.
Panic was giving her strength, but she knew she couldn’t run from her husband for long.
She needed to find a safe place, perhaps get to Chantel.
Ebenezer’s footsteps sounded closer and closer.
His heavy breathing seemed to burn her neck.
“You will pay for this,” he growled.
“No one would abuse Ebenezer Puit like that”.
Leticia turned down a narrow alley between two buildings, hoping to gain a few seconds head start.
Her heart was pounding in her chest like crazy, her eyes black with fear and fatigue.
“Please,” she mentally pleaded.
“Let someone help.
Please, dot dot dot”.
The dawn in Richmond was dank and gray.
Drizzling rain mixed with the morning fog, covering the streets with a damp shroud.
Patrol Officer Kindred was making his usual morning rounds when he noticed an unnaturally twisted arm sticking out from behind a dumpster in the alley behind the medical center.
Dispatch, this is Officer Kindred.
A body has been discovered in the alley at 7th and Maine.
Female African-Amean, believed to be 35 to 45 years old.
Signs of violent death.
forensics team required.
The crime scene quickly filled with police officers, yellow tape fenced off the narrow alleyway, and curious passers by were already gathered in small groups around the perimeter, whispering and filming the scene on their phones.
Detective Obadiah Willis arrived 20 minutes after the call.
His tattered gray sedan pulled up at the strip, and a tall, thin man with sage brush in his short hair got out leisurely.
age had long since passed the half ccentury mark, but his eyes remained sharp and alert.
He put on latex gloves before he even approached the body.
“What do we got?” he asked the medical examiner, who was already on the scene.
“Female, 40 to 45 years old,” Dr. Rimes replied, keeping her eyes on the body.
“Multiple injuries to the head and upper body.
Preliminary cause of death is head trauma.
The weapon of choice is a presumably heavy blunt object.
probably this.
She pointed to a bloody piece of rebar lying a few feet from the body.
Willis squatted down next to the victim.
The woman was lying on her back, her head turned sideways, revealing deep wounds on her face and head.
Her clothes were torn and covered in blood with skin showing under her fingernails.
A clear sign that the victim had struggled with her attacker.
“We got an ID”.
They found a driver’s license in her purse.
One of the officers handed him a plastic bag of documents.
Leticia Puit, age 44, resides at 27 Jefferson Street.
Willis scrutinized the photo on the license, then shifted his gaze to the victim’s mutilated face.
Time of death.
Tentatively, between 17 and 19:00 yesterday afternoon, Dr. Rimes replied, “I’ll be more specific”.
After the autopsy, the detective walked slowly around the crime scene, scrutinizing every detail.
Blood spatter on the wall showed that the first blow was struck when the victim was standing up.
The signs of a struggle, the torn purse with its contents strewn across the alley, all pointed to a spontaneous violent act of violence, not a planned murder.
“Who found her?” “Hless guy,” patrolman Kindred answered.
Said he slept in the driveway across the street, but swears he didn’t see or hear anything.
“Went to check the bins this morning and found the body”.
Check his history”.
Willis nodded and canvas all the employees of the surrounding establishments.
Someone might have seen something.
He walked around the body once more, then looked up and noticed a security camera mounted on the corner of the building.
Check the footage from the cameras.
That one was sure to capture something.
While the forensics team continued their work, Willis went back to his car and opened his laptop.
He entered the victim’s name into the database and reviewed the results.
Leticia Puit, 44 years old, no priors.
Married to Ebenezer Puit, 47 years old.
Minor offenses in her youth.
Nothing serious in the last 15 years.
Works as a hairdresser at the Crown Beauty Salon.
Husband’s a security guard at Richmond Plaza Shopping Center.
Call the husband in for a lineup, Willis ordered, turning to young detective Parker, a recent transfer to their department.
And check to see where he was last night.
Already tried.
Parker replied.
No answer at home.
Cell phones off.
Work said he didn’t show up for his shift this morning.
Willis frowned.
Put out a B and send a patrol car to their house.
The next point of investigation was the medical center near where the body had been found.
Willis showed his badge to the receptionist and asked if a patient named Leticia Puit had been in yesterday.
Yes, she had an appointment with Dr. Banks at 16:00.
the woman behind the counter replied, checking the records.
But there was an incident.
Security was called to Dr. Banks office at about 4:30.
I need to speak to Dr. Banks and the security staff who worked yesterday, Willis said.
Dr. Nefertiti Banks looked tired and anxious when Willis entered her office.
Her elegant dreadlocked hair was gathered into a careless bun, and shadows lingered under her eyes.
Tact Banks, I’m Detective Obadiah Willis.
I’m investigating the murder of Leticia Puit.
Dr. Banks turned pale.
Murder? Oh my god.
I knew something terrible had happened yesterday, but I didn’t think.
Tell me about what happened yesterday during your appointment.
Dr. Banks took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.
Mrs. Puit came in complaining of lower abdominal pain.
On examination, I found.
She hesitated for words.
I discovered that the patient had undergone sex reassignment surgery.
She didn’t indicate that on the form.
Willis kept an impassive expression on his face, though the information was unexpected.
Go on.
We were discussing her condition when suddenly a man entered the office.
He introduced himself as her husband, Ebenezer Puit.
Yeah.
I didn’t realize he was unaware of her past.
I’m afraid I inadvertently disclosed that information.
How did Mr. Puit react? He was furious.
Dr. Her banks rubbed her temples, screaming, slamming his fist into the wall.
I called security, but Mrs. Puit ran away before they arrived.
Mr. Puit chased after her.
Security arrived a few minutes later, but they had already left the building.
Did you hear any threats from Mr. Puit? He was very aggressive, the doctor replied cautiously.
Called her a liar.
Said things like, “You’re going to pay for this”.
But I didn’t hear any direct death threats.
Willis made notes in his notebook.
How long was Mrs. Puit a patient of yours? About 3 years.
But I never knew about her past until yesterday.
Did she have any other health problems that you know of? Nothing serious.
Routine checkups, the occasional cold.
Willis next interviewed the security guard on duty at the clinic yesterday.
A sturdy young man named Jaden confirmed that he had received a call from Doctor Banks.
But when he arrived at the office, no one was there.
I saw them run out of the building, he added.
First a woman, then a man.
He was yelling something after her.
I wanted to follow them, but there was another situation at the main entrance.
An elderly patient collapsed and I had to help.
Willis continued to question the clinic staff.
The receptionist remembered that Ebenezer had asked about his wife and she directed him to Dr. Banks’s office.
A nurse confirmed that she heard screaming coming from the office.
By noon, Willis received the first results from the surveillance cameras.
The footage clearly shows Leticia running out of the clinic, followed seconds later by a large man matching Ebenezer’s description.
They head towards the alley where the body was later found.
Trace his route through the city cameras, Willis ordered.
I need to know where he went after the alley.
Meanwhile, news came in from the patrolman sent to the Puit house.
No one was in the house, but the officers noticed signs of hasty packing, drawers pulled out, clothes strewn about.
In the bedroom, they found an empty gun box on the floor.
“Does Puit have a gun permit?” Willis asked the officer who reported the information.
“Yes, sir.
Registered 38 caliber revolver.
Obtained the permit 5 years ago in connection with his work as a security guard.
Declare him armed and dangerous,” Willis ordered.
and check every possible place he could be hiding.
Relatives, friends, co-workers.
The next step was to visit the hair salon where Leticia worked.
Beauty Crown was located in a small shopping center in a workingclass neighborhood in Richmond.
When Willis entered, there were two female hairdressers working in the salon and several female customers sitting in the waiting area.
Detective Obadia Willis, he introduced himself, showing his badge.
I need to speak to the owner.
The owner of the salon, a full-figured middle-aged woman named Kesha, looked shocked to learn of Leticia’s death.
I can’t believe it.
She was here yesterday, worked until lunchtime, then left for her doctor’s appointment.
Such a nice woman.
Always calm, polite.
Did you know her well? She worked for me for 6 years.
Top-of-the-line customers loved her.
Did you know about her past that she was? Willis hesitated for words.
that she was a transgender woman.
Kesha finished for him.
Yeah, she told me when she applied for the job.
Said it was better to be honest from the start, but we never discussed it with others.
