Page 124 of Precise Justice

“Excuse me,” Carvelli said to her. He opened his ID case and showed her his license then said, “You look exactly as Robbie described you, Joan.”

A tad startled, Joan took a moment then said, “You’re here for Robbie?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m a private investigator. I’m working for the lawyer who represents her. If you’d like to call Robbie yourself to verify it, please do. I have her number.”

“Um, okay, let’s go somewhere and talk. There’s a place down on Sherman Avenue. But I will call Robbie,” Joan said.

They got an almost private booth in the restaurant. While Joan made the call to Robbie, Carvelli looked at a menu.

“Okay, yeah, he’s right here,” Carvelli heard Joan say then hand him her phone.

“Found her,” Carvelli said. “She seems like a nice lady.”

“She’ll talk to you now. Thanks, Tony,” Robbie said.

Carvelli gave Joan her phone back and waited for her to say something.

“Do you know, Mr. Carvelli…”

“Tony, please.”

“Okay, Tony. Do you know I’m working on a PhD in psychology? That I want to specialize in trans kids and adults who are considering it?”

“No, I didn’t know that. You hungry? I’ll buy,” Carvelli said.

“Do you like meatloaf?”

“I, ah, normally stay away from restaurant meatloaf. You never know what you’re gonna get.”

“Me too,” Joan laughed. “Except here. It’s really good.”

When the waitress left, a pretty college girl, they went back to their conversation.

“You want to know if I think Robbie could have done these killings, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Carvelli said. The way she said it made him leery of the answer.

“Yes, absolutely no doubt she is capable of this. And, I know that’s not the answer you wanted. But then, anyone who was treated the way she was is capable of it. I’m surprised there hasn’t been an epidemic of these types of murders. There has been an awful lot of kids pushed into this who were merely confused teens. Or, like Robbie, for lack of a better way of putting it, socially impaired. Children who have trouble making friends. Fitting in with other kids their age. Maybe bullied or, like Robbie, have adominant mother who wanted a daughter. Robbie told me that one.”

“Then the question becomes, do you think he did it?” Carvelli asked.

“I’ve thought about that, we get the news about this at the same time you do. I have to admit, I’m biased. I like Robbie. Before all this I bet he was a sweet young boy. A likeable, shy kid who did well in school, but not in sports. I’m sure you know how important that is, especially to young boys.

“It is,” Carvelli agreed.

“Do I think he did it? I’d say no, but I’m biased.”

“Would you be willing to come back to Minnesota and meet with his lawyer, Marc Kadella? Maybe testify?”

“Yes, but I can do you one better. I’ve talked to my PhD mentor, Professor Camille Bethany. She said she would volunteer if Kadella can cover her expenses.”

Their meals came and Carvelli, having not eaten since breakfast, almost made sparks fly wolfing it down. At one point Joan had to stifle a laugh watching him.

“I told you the meatloaf was good,” she said.

“Was it? I was so hungry I’m not sure I noticed.”

Joan took out her phone and dialed a number.

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