Part 17 (1/2)
”And you helped send an innocent man to jail,” Bash said.
”Uh-huh,” she said.
I opened my eyes. Now it all made sense. Big Al's questions about me leaving town, the crazy scene outside.
”Are you still there, Melinda?” Bash asked.
”Yeah,” she said.
”Tell me why you did it.”
Again, she didn't answer.
”Did you love him? I'm talking about Jack Carpenter.”
”No,” she said.
”But you had an affair with him.”
”I found out he was cheating on me.”
”He was seeing another woman?”
”Yes. Her name is Joy Chambers.”
”Is she a dancer?”
”She's a prost.i.tute,” Melinda said.
”If you don't love Jack Carpenter, then why did you do it?”
Another pause.
”He threatened me. Said he'd make my life living h.e.l.l if I didn't play along. He had all these cases of missing girls that he couldn't solve, and he saw Simon as the perfect suspect, if I'd just play ball.”
”So you went along with him.”
”That's right.”
”Can I ask you one more question, Melinda?”
”Okay.”
”Do you feel ashamed by what you did?”
There was a short silence, followed by a dial tone. Bash took a commercial break, and Russo turned off the ca.s.sette player while looking at me as if I were some piece of trash in a holding cell. I wanted to defend myself but didn't know where to start. I thought back to last night's conversation with Melinda. What had I said to cause her to turn on me this way?
Russo cleared his throat. He had lifted his arm and was pointing at the door. I pulled three hundred dollars out of my wallet and tossed it on the table.
”Fix your car,” I said.
I left the War Room as fast as my legs would carry me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
I decided to get drunk. Whatever was left of my reputation had gone up in flames, and Big Al's suggestion that I move out of the state suddenly seemed a good idea. decided to get drunk. Whatever was left of my reputation had gone up in flames, and Big Al's suggestion that I move out of the state suddenly seemed a good idea.
But before I got drunk. I wanted to look Melinda in the eye and ask her why she'd done this to me. It seemed cruel that she'd accuse me of sleeping with her when I'd spent so much energy fighting off her advances. It was also an accusation that I'd never live down. When a woman says you slept with her, there's no denying it.
I pointed the Legend toward her apartment complex. Buster had picked up on my sorry state and tried to crawl into my lap.
He wanted to comfort me, but I wasn't in the mood and made him stay on the pa.s.senger seat.
I parked a few units down from her place. At her door I knocked loudly. When she didn't answer, I pounded. Then I started to kick.
”Open up. It's Jack Carpenter.”
Sticking my face to the front window, I peered inside. Through a slit in the drapes I saw a floor plan like a cheap motel room. Everything looked in its place. A black kitty jumped at the gla.s.s, scratching at my face.
I knocked on her neighbors' doors. Melinda spent her days watching soap operas and reading romance novels. That doesn't sound like much of a life, but it was a far cry from living on the street and not knowing where her next meal was coming from.
An elderly neighbor wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers and a muumuu agreed to talk to me.
”I saw Melinda this morning,” the neighbor said, her face shrouded by a cigarette's fog. ”Lent her some Sweet'N Low. You a cop?”
”A friend.”
”Boyfriend?”
”No, just a friend.”
”You look like a cop,” the neighbor said. ”Act like one, too.”
”I used to be. How was Melinda's demeanor?”
”Her what?”
”Her att.i.tude. How was she acting? Was she happy or sad? That sort of thing.”
The neighbor thought about it. ”p.i.s.sed off was how I'd describe her.”
”About what?”
”Her cable TV was on the blink.”