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“Oh, yeah?” Morales blinked perspiration from his eyes, revealing a prominent brow that crumpled with the force of his anger. “Buy a book.”
“Da
Morales gri
“She a boxer to me, tha’s all,” Mr. Gaines said. “You should rightly be sayin’ welcome to her. He’p bring her along.”
Judy felt a guilty pang. Mr. Gaines was standing up for her, and she had lied to him. “That’s all right, Coach.”
“No, Da
Morales relaxed, apparently soothed by his credentials, and nodded at Judy. “Da
“Thank you, Da
“Ro
Judy took a step closer. “What are you making?”
“A scarf, for Da
Morales almost smiled. “Like I didn’t know. She knit me two scarves and a sweater already.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Judy said, and the conversation stalled. She couldn’t talk to Ro
“It’s around the back. You have to use the janitor’s closet.”
“I didn’t see it. Is it hard to find?”
“Kind of. You want me to show it to you?” Ro
“Sure,” Judy said, as casually as possible. “Lead on.”
37
Be
She sat down in her padded desk chair, and the sun streamed through the window behind her, reminding her like a tap on the shoulder that the day was almost over. She went through her papers to find the police chronology. It was the weakest part of the prosecution’s case, and she intended to weaken it to the breaking point.
“Incident Report,” read the slip of white paper. These were the papers that Carrier had applied to the court for and which had been released, albeit in severely redacted form. The documents looked as insignificant as newsstand receipts, but were among the most critical documents in a criminal case. Usually they constituted a chronological recounting of the police activity at the crime scene, but in this case they didn’t explain how the hell Reston and McShea got to the scene so fast. There was only one set of documents left to consult, the transcripts of the telephone calls that came into 911.
Be
Be
“The doctor’s been trying to reach you all morning, Miss Rosato,” said the receptionist.
Be
38
Judy had discovered that a janitor’s closet was really an open toilet near a string mop. The walls were streaked with grime and a gritty Rubbermaid bucket sat under a streaked washbasin. The toilet paper holder was empty and two half rolls of toilet paper were lined up on the tank next to an old copy of Sports Illustrated. Judy washed her hands in the basin. “So,” she asked, “is knitting hard? It looks hard.”
“No, it’s easy.” Ro
“Thanks,” Judy said, surprised at the offer. It struck her that Ro
“No problem.” Ro
“So you enjoy it.”
“No, I hate it,” Ro
“Why do you do it, then?” Judy’s hands dripped while she looked around for paper towels.
“For something to do. There’s no TV here. I read the new magazines as soon as they come out, then I got nothing to do when Da
“Do you watch him train every day?” Judy gave up her search and wiped her hands on her sweatpants.
“I have to.” Ro
“He needs luck with a speedbag?”
Ro
“Don’t you get bored, though? I mean, even if I loved someone, I might get bored watching him all day.”
“Sure I get bored. That’s why I knit.” Her mouth pursed slightly, wrinkling an upper lip like a Cupid’s bow. “Da
“Then why does he bring you to the gym? There’s nothing but men here.”
“He likes to know where I am. Not that I ever cheated on him or nothin’. Not ever. I never would. I mean, never.” Ro
“Uh, yeah,” Judy said, catching up with the abrupt change of subject.
“Not many women in the gym, that’s why we don’t have no ladies’ room. Only women here usually are the other wives. Even they don’t come in much anymore.”