Page 78 of A Week Away
I opened the bag and held it out so she could look into it. “You know what that is, don’t you? Someone put it into the back of Cass’s Car.”
“Someone’s trying to blame Cass? But… he was with you, wasn’t he? He picked up Chinese food… there will be a credit card receipt, won’t there?”
“Yes. But, Cass and his mom had a habit of buying things with other people’s cards. So he really can’t prove he was there.”
“He wasn’t at Top Dog though. They can’t prove he was.”
“You were there though, weren’t you?”
“What? No. I wasn’t. Of course, I wasn’t.”
“I watched the security video. A Plymouth Voyager pulled into the parking lot at around forty-thirty and left shortly after Joanne was gunned down. It had a Clinton/Gore sticker on the back.”
Okay, so I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure of the make of the van or what the bumper sticker said—but her face told me I was right.
A determined look came over her face. “I play softball. In the spring and summer. I have four bats—well, five actually. I put one in the van and I went there. I was going to… I know she killed my brother, her and her cousin. She didn’t have to do that. She could have divorced him and the dope would have paid her child support.”
“You sat and watched while she got shot?”
“I didn’t know that was going to happen. I was going to go over and beat her to death. I had the courage to do it. I did. But then I thought about Cass and… I couldn’t do it to him.”
“But it happened anyway.” I said.
“Did you see who did it?”
“He kept his head down. I don’t think even Joanne got a good look at him.
“Did you see anything? What kind of jeans he was wearing? Sneakers? His hands? Anything he had around his neck?”
She thought for a moment before she said, “He wasn’t wearing jeans. Just dark slacks. And shoes. Not sneakers.”
Okay, that meant something. It could have been any man in the building. “Did he seem at all interested in the car?”
“No. I don’t know why they’re saying things about a car-jacking. He just grabbed her purse and ran back into the building.”
And then ran to the second floor bathroom and put Joanne’s purse in the ceiling, but kept the hoodie and the gun. Finally, I shut the trunk of the rental.
“Whoever put that bag in the back of Cass’s car has probably already tipped off the police. They’re probably getting a warrant right now. Stay here with Cass so he’s not alone?—”
“I’ll bring him to my house.”
“No. Someone should be here for the search. Otherwise they’ll break the door down. You also want to make sure they only search what’s listed on the warrant.”
Then she went pale. “Are they going to figure out I was in that parking lot?”
“I haven’t seen the footage they have, what I saw came from the building next door. But from what I saw, they couldn’t read your license plate. They’re also not looking for you. They’ve got their hearts set on a Black teenager.”
She visibly relaxed. Then she said, “Thank you. I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but thank you.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
September 18, 1996
Wednesday morning
Islept badly. Actually, it’s an overstatement to say I slept at all. I flipped and flopped, struggling to get comfortable on the over-used mattress. I took Tylenol, more than directed, and then watched the clock to see when I could take it again. The pain in my shoulder wasn’t the problem though. Joanne’s murder was.
It had to be Luca or Cray who killed her. I just knew it. But I couldn’t figure out how either of them could have done it. Did Luca get away from the Feds? Did Cray have enough time to do it?
