“You don’t understand, I want to meet someone. Not everyone feels the way you do.”
Sandy could see it now; she had underestimated Linda’s loneliness. Here was distress beyond what she had imagined. Linda would be willing to change her name and move a thousand miles, a thousand times, if she thought it would bring her the person she wanted. “Miss Right is out there, Linda, and could show up tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Linda gave her a tolerant look. “Let’s get off it.”
“And you made up what you told me about your past; the part about a girlfriend, her boyfriend, a dead dog and a fire?”
“No.” She laughed. “That was real, except it happened in Tampa not Georgia. I was a mechanic for Uncle Luis. Who else is going to hire a teenage girl as a mechanic?”
Sandy still wondered about La Familia. “So, the Tampa-Georgia location thing was your only lie to me about your background?”
“Yes, sorry, but remember I didn’t know you back then. You know, you’re right Sandy, everyone underestimates you.”
Sandy was afraid of setting her off again, but she had to ask, “Linda, what about La Familia?”
“Everyone knows it means family. What about it?”
That sounded innocent. Anyway, was it crucial? Was it actually important? Maybe she didn’t want to hear anything that involved Linda in any plot. Maybe Sandy had enough, she didn’t have to solve Towson’s murder, she just has to get Raymond out of it, and go on living. His transfer to county jail was about to happen, no point in holding any info back now.
“Linda, I’ve got a whole lot of things to tell you.”
Linda was excited. “I’ve things to tell you also, better get comfortable.”
They huddled over notes for two hours and ordered pizza and Coke for lunch. After an additional hour, Sandy hurried out of the Park Beach newspaper building. She had just enough time to get to the jail before the end of visiting hours.
***
Sandy was waiting in the visiting room when they brought him in. “Raymond, I’ve been in a huddle with Linda at the newspaper office. We leveled and told each other all that we knew.”
“Why don’t you just go back to Philly?”
“Not yet, listen up Raymond. She said the police knew all along that Barner was alive because he serviced Towson’s apartment after you left. They found insecticide on a piece of that cup you broke. And that was one day after Loraine said she shot him. So they knew she was lying, not you.”
“Slow down, what are you talking about? We knew Barner was an exterminator.”
“Yes, but we didn’t know he had serviced Towson’s apartment the afternoon of the shooting. Someone connected with the investigation told Linda that CSI found a shard from a broken cup on the floor. It was out of sight on the kitchen floor, covered with insecticide. Apparently, Barner didn’t notice it and sprayed right over it that afternoon. That’s the cup you broke when you were there earlier!”
“So what?” Then he caught the significance. “You mean it was on the floor unnoticed all afternoon. That proves Barner was there after me.”
“Yes. At that time both Barner and Towson were alive. One reason they denied bail was Moran told the judge you were the last person to see the victim alive. No way they could have been certain about that. They discovered that Barner saw him alive much later. And they have no evidence that you went back up there. Bastards should have bonded you out immediately when they found a major piece of their evidence discredited. By now they have their lab reports back finding no blood splatter on your clothes, so all of their circumstantial bullshit is falling apart. I haven’t been so angry since I dropped my cellphone in a restaurant toilet.”
“I’ll ask Kagan. Maybe he can inform the judge about this.”
“Ask hell! You don’t understand, there’s more. I dropped a bombshell. I was so mad I told Linda everything—plus a bunch of speculation. When she told me about Barner and the insecticide, I had a meltdown. The paper has it all now: Loraine, Tammy, Norma, and Barner. All the names, the alleged rape, the phony Sonny Barner shooting, everything you said in your statement, and anything we discussed since. Essentially, I discussed the contents of that signed statement you gave Moran. That statement was an official document of the prosecution. I could go to jail for disclosing it. Linda called the editor back in from home. They have their heads together right now deciding how much they can print.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Jerry Kagan. Moran might be willing to talk bail when he learns a big headline is on its way.”
Chapter 29
Sunday morning Moran carried the thick newspaper out to his apartment balcony to relax with his coffee. Later he’d watch the game on TV and pop a couple of beers. Then he saw the editorial caption, Murder Investigation Broadens.
He studied the editorial. The mood had changed. The editorial page that previously had beaten the drum for a speedy trial had now taken an explicit step toward criticizing the conduct of the investigation, …the authorities must now assure us that the killer of our beloved senator doesn’t escape prosecution because of an inadequate investigation.
The paper insinuated that the investigation was off track, and even went so far as to suggest that the police might not have the actual killer in custody. The paper intended to dig into it. The newspaper has something new, Moran thought. In less than an hour, he was dressed and having a rare Sunday meeting at police headquarters with the chief and Goddard.
“To start with,” Moran explained. “Kagan phoned me Friday and told me to give Reid bail or else. Said he was going back before the judge with new information. I blew him off. Then the newspaper runs this editorial—something has definitely changed. Do you have Linda Call’s home number, Chief? Let’s find out what the paper is going to print.”
The chief spun his Rolodex, dialed, and handed the phone to Moran. “Larry Moran here. Yes, just fine. Can you give me Monday morning’s headline?”
Linda replied, “I know what you’re getting at Mr. Moran. You’re not on the front page tomorrow, but your investigation is the subject of a new series of articles. We’re putting them together right now with all the names. I’m afraid you won’t be pleased.”
“How did you find out the names of the subjects you believe to be part of the investigation?”
“Now you know my sources are confidential, but believe me we’ve got it all. We’ll be sending it on to the AP wire for national distribution and TV will pick it up from there. Why don’t you give me a statement now giving us your side? You’re going to have to sooner or later, you know.”
“No, and tell your editor I said the paper better be damn careful about printing a bunch of guesses.” His throat was now so tight he could barely force out a polite goodbye. He slammed the phone down. “Damn. How’d they get those names?”
“My guess is the paper has heard all the names from Sandy Reid,” Goddard said. “She might even have talked to TV people.”
“She runs around and somehow everyone is willing to talk and help her,” the chief said.
“She broke the law if she showed Reid’s statement to the press.” Moran frowned. “What in hell is happening? I never had problems like this before with my cases. The sister, the sister, the little bitch is making my life miserable. Go lean on her, Goddard, and lean hard.”
“I didn’t become a cop to lean on people who aren’t breaking the law.”
“Well, then go make her break some law and then lean on her. You cops know how to do that stuff. Do you think you can handle that? You’ve done worse, like breaking and entering.”