Page 40 of And Still Her Voice
“And you, Honey Moon, what’s your real name?” he asked without looking up.
I clenched my teeth from chattering, but didn’t hesitate to answer with false confidence, “Susan Glass.”
The officer gazed at me and I prayed he wouldn’t ask for my ID. All I had was a Glendale library card with my name Phoebe Anna LeMar. But instead, he turned back to River as if he’d already found his man, convicted him, and sent him to the gas chamber. I panicked, ready to turn myself in. “Calm down,” Grandma shouted.
Taller cop cut a glance at me. “Do you know anyone named DeeDee?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
He then addressed River. “Levi Smith, where were you Tuesday night?”
“I was here,” River answered.
“I can vouch for him,” Mary said.
I wanted to take the attention off of River. “I was out partying on the street and then crashed over in Panhandle Park.”
“Not that he asked you,” shorter cop said. “Out past curfew? So, you were loitering?”
“You can’t prove it,” Grandma said, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. I must have looked scared.
Taller cop said to me, “I’m going to need to see your ID, too.” I froze.
“On what grounds?” Mary asked.
Tall cop stared at her and then jotted down some more notes in his pad, peering at River and me. I wondered what DeeDee might have told them.
“What’s this all about?” Mary asked.
“Mr. Moss was found dead. Almost looks like a suicide, except for the fire and the busted open safe in his office.” I could understand a fire, but I knew nothing about a busted open safe. I wondered about DeeDee.
Fire? River watched as I reached into my pocket to feel for the pack of matches. He scrunched his face and subtly shook his head.
And then the officer asked, “Do either of you own a knife?” All my blood drained to my feet. How could I have left it behind?
“I thought you said it was a gun,” Mary said, whipping out her knife, and the cops slapped their hands on their holsters faster than a speeding bullet. She laughed. “Are you kidding? Everyone around here owns one.”
Tall cop’s nostrils flared big as tunnels as if he knew he’d come to a dead end.
“And what about the fire?” Mary asked.
“It was contained.” He closed his notepad. “If you hear anything, here’s my number. “And if you come across any Black female singers—” He handed Mary a card.
She locked the door behind them and then turned toward us. “Honey Moon, you’re white as flour.”
I saw chartreuse. “I’m not feeling good,” I said, taking the stairs up two at a time.
After puking in the bathroom, I splashed my face and stared in the mirror. What am I going to do?
“Go home,” Grandma said, and I hurried to the bedroom to gather my belongings. Sure enough, I couldn’t find my knife, the knife with so many bad memories.
River walked in as I packed up my things. “What are you doing?”
“I gotta split.”
He took my hands. “Look at me, Honey. What’s the matter? You can tell me.”
Hot tears sizzled down my cheeks. “I feel like I’m naked and being chased by sharks, and all my teeth are falling out,” I blubbered, pulling my hands away to swipe my runny nose with the back of my sleeve. “I want to swim away.”
