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“It was McShea and Reston. They threw me down onto the ground, cuffed me behind my back, then took me in the patrol car down to the Roundhouse.”
“Who’re McShea and Reston? You know them?”
“I met them once or twice, and they testified at the preliminary hearing. Anthony used to be friendly with them, at least Reston. The two of them were both in the Eleventh until Anthony got promoted to detective. They had some kind of falling out but Anthony never wanted to talk about it. It was in the past, I thought. Until they framed me.”
Be
“They took me down for questioning. I was the only suspect, right off. They didn’t look for the real killer. I was charged and put in jail that day. I’ve been rotting here, since there’s no bail for murder in Philly. Assholes.”
“Did you answer their questions?”
“No. I asked for a lawyer and they set me up with this kid who got court-appointed.”
“The same night?” Be
“My lawyer’s worse than a public defender. His name is Warren Miller, in town. He’s an insurance lawyer, real corporate.”
“Can’t be. Not in a homicide case.”
“I’m telling you, it’s all part of the setup.” Co
“Judge Harrison Guthrie? Not likely,” Be
“No.”
“Figures.” The cops could question somebody for hours but unless the suspect made a full confession there would be no statement. It was only the first step in ignoring evidence that pointed away from a suspect’s guilt, all in a process intended to do justice. Be
“I don’t know either. I wish I did. Whatever happened in the past, they killed Anthony for it and framed me. You see what I mean?”
“No.” Be
“No.”
“Was the door locked?”
“Yes. I used my key to get in, even downstairs.”
Be
“Not that I knew of.”
“Was there music on, anything like that? Drinks around?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice. I just saw the body. I don’t remember anything but that.”
Be
“It was my sweatshirt, but I wasn’t wearing it that day. I had on a workshirt. That’s what they picked me up in and it was clean. If I was going to kill Anthony, you think I’d put bloody clothes in a Dumpster next to the apartment? How dumb do you think I am?”
“Did anybody see you at the library wearing a workshirt that day?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Be
“I met them at a cop thing, a barbecue, but I didn’t really know them. Like I said, they were old friends of Anthony’s from when he was a uniform. He used to hang with them, used to go out at nights. They called them board meetings because they were all bored at home.”
Be
“Of course not.” Co
“Star’s the boxer Anthony managed, right? I’d like to talk to him.”
Co
“Why?”
“I’d hang at the gym with the boxer’s wives. I got to know them, became friends. Star didn’t like me around the gym. Thought I distracted Anthony.”
“Did you discuss this with Anthony?”
“No. Anthony had his work and his boxer. He did his business, I did my book. We understood each other.” Co
“I have a boyfriend, but we’re not discussing me.”
“Ever been married?”
“None of your business.”
“Me neither, like I said. I didn’t get along with my father, my adopted father. They give us workshops here, on relationships. They’re mostly bullshit, but they say you can’t have good relationships with men if you don’t have a good relationship with your father.”
“That what they say?” Be
“Who?”
“My father. Bill.”
Co
“No? Did he ever say how he got here, to visit?”
Co
Be
“Okay, sure. I’ll see you when?”
“Soon as I need you. Stay tuned.” Be
“Could I see the visitors’ log book?” Be
10
Alice entered the prison law library, a large gray room carpeted with a thin gray rug, and handed her pass to the guard at the door. She would have only fifteen minutes of unrestricted time here. It would be enough. She spotted Valencia’s mass of oiled curls bent over a law book at the bank of gray metal carrels in the center of the room. The girl was always trying to get her conviction reversed, complaining in letters to Congress, the President, and for some reason, Katie Couric. Valencia’s argument was that mandatory sentencing for coke possession was unfair, mainly because she’d been convicted for it.
Alice laughed to herself. Valencia had known what she was getting into when she took the job. She carried the powder for money and used it to buy Santo the frilliest baby clothes ever made for a boy. Plus a stroller with a plastic cover like an oxygen tent. Not real useful, in Alice’s view, but neither was Valencia, any longer. Alice crossed the room, lined with secondhand case reporters and maroon statute books, and slid into the neighboring carrel. “Hey,” she said, and when Valencia looked up from the law book, her cherry-red mouth broke into a sticky smile.