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9
“I’ll represent you, on two conditions.” Be
“That should be easy,” Co
“Which brings me to condition number two. The only way I can represent you is if we keep the case, and only the case, in focus.” Be
“Does this mean the photos convinced you?”
“It means it doesn’t matter to the court case. Now, sit down and let’s get the facts.” Be
“It matters to me,” she said. “I still want to meet my mother. My real mother.”
“Look, if we take time talking about personal issues, you won’t be alive to meet anybody. You answer my questions and we’ll do fine. It’s Tuesday already. We have less than a week until trial unless I can get a continuance. I have a hundred things to do on this case, in addition to my other cases.”
“Just tell me one thing. What is our-my-our-mother like?”
Be
“No.”
“Any prior convictions, or been arrested or questioned for any reason?”
“No.”
“You were raised where?”
“New Jersey. Vineland.”
Be
“Yes.”
“Quick rundown of your childhood.”
Co
Be
“That’s it, basically. I wasn’t that close to my parents, and my mother, not my real mother, was sick a lot. She had multiple sclerosis. They both died in a car crash when I was nineteen. I was about to start college, at Rutgers, on full scholarship.”
Be
“Basketball.”
“Athletic?” Be
“Lousy. I blew out my knee. Never lived up to potential, that was what the coach said. I dropped out when the scholarship wasn’t renewed. I was an English major.”
So had Be
“No.”
“Ever lived with anybody?”
“Not before Anthony.”
Be
“In a laundromat in town, when I first came to Philly. He was washing towels, tons of towels, and drinking coffee. I’m a coffee freak, so we started talking.”
Be
“We dated for about a half year before I moved in. I had been living with him for about a year when he was killed.”
Be
“Great. We were happy. He was a great guy.”
“No fights?”
“No more than normal. We were happy. Really.”
“Ever talk marriage?”
“A little, but nothing definite,” Co
“Okay, what happened the night Anthony was killed?”
“I came home from the library and he was lying there, dead. There was so much blood.” Co
“What time did you come in?”
“About eight at night. I’d been at the Free Library all day. I always used to leave at six-thirty and it takes an hour or so to walk home.”
“Did you work at the library?”
“No. I wrote there, on the computer, because it was quieter than the apartment, with the construction going on across the street. And the room in the library was real pretty, with ironwork all around.”
“What were you writing?”
“A novel. I was almost finished with the first draft. It was sort of literary fiction, I guess you’d call it.”
“Where’s the book now? Do the police have it?”
“I think they took the disk, but the book was protected with a password. If they insert the disk and use the wrong password, it’ll erase.”
“Your whole book will erase? All your work, wasted? You don’t have a hard copy?”
“I wasn’t far enough along. It wasn’t much good anyway, and I have bigger worries right now, like proving I’m i
It seemed strange. Be
“He was lying on his back, facing up, and there was the most awful expression on his face.” Co
“How did you know that?”
“You could tell. God. There was a hole right in his forehead, like someone had… drilled it.” Co
Be
“Not a smart move, I know.” Co
“What did you do when you ran out?”
“I ran down the street. Then I saw a cop car coming around the corner and I freaked out. I ran into the alley at the end of the street and out the other side.”
“You ran from the cops? Why?”
“I was afraid of them. I didn’t know what had happened to Anthony. I knew it would look like I killed him and I had no good alibi.”
A human reaction, but the wrong one. If it was true. “What was the patrol car doing there, if you didn’t call for it?”
“Maybe somebody else did, I don’t know. Going down to set me up, probably.”
Be
“I don’t know. We were sorta close to the Roundhouse, that’s why Anthony kept the apartment. He used to stop home to get his stuff before he went to the gym.”
Be