Part 20 (1/2)
I nodded.
”She wasn't as nice as everyone is saying she was.”
”I didn't really know her well.” I looked at Crawford.
”She didn't want Vince with anyone else. She was really mad that he took up with her roommate, of all people. She was like that. Jealous.”
Crawford waited a minute before asking, ”How did she die?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair, taking a deep breath. ”We were in a bar on Broadway when she found us. Vince left like the big chicken that he is . . . was,” she said, ”and it was just the two of us. I knew that she was sleeping with Ray, and I told her that, but she was still p.i.s.sed off that I had hooked up with Vince. She said it wasn't right. We left the bar and started walking home.”
”Along Broadway?” Crawford asked.
”Yeah.” She shot a look at him, but he didn't respond in any way. ”We went through the woods between the apartment buildings and our dorm, and that's when she told me that Vince was only using me to get back at her.” Tears started falling down her face. ”That just wasn't true,” she protested.
”I'm sure it wasn't true,” I said, thinking that that was what I was supposed to say.
”Right!” she said, agreeing with me. She cried for a few more minutes. ”Vince always told me he loved me. And he gave me this,” she said, rolling the diamond necklace between her fingers. ”He was really hurt when she broke up with him.”
”The breakup wasn't his idea?” I asked.
She shook her head. ”No. It was all her idea.” She looked down. She looked like she had something else to say, but she kept silent. Something unspoken hung in the air.
Crawford looked over at me questioningly.
”What else, Fiona?” I prodded her.
She wouldn't look at me.
”Fiona, if there's more, we have to know. Anything you tell us could help you,” Crawford lied.
”Did you know that Vince is dead?” she asked, changing the subject.
I nodded. I heard Crawford take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I didn't feel the need to go into any more detail.
”And Johnny's in jail.”
I was surprised that she knew that. ”How did you know that?”
”He's my cousin. My mother's sister's son. They called my dad to get him out.” She fiddled with the edge of her skirt. ”But he couldn't.”
Her parents apparently hadn't told her the whole story. Crawford led her along with her story. ”So, what happened in the woods?”
”I pushed her,” she said, matter-of-factly. ”And she fell backwards and gashed her head open on a stump sticking out of the ground. I think she died then.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ”There was a lot of blood.”
”How did you get the body to my car?” I asked.
”Kathy told me that Ray let her drive his car every once in a while and that he kept a spare set of keys in his desk drawer in his office. I went into his office and took them. I knew he had a BMW, but there was an old Volvo key on the key ring, marked 'Al.' I figured that was your car key. I also figured you wouldn't miss that junker too much, so I asked Vince and Johnny to help me get the body and dump it.” She paused for a minute. ”I wasn't trying to frame you. I thought you'd be happy to be rid of that wreck. I told Vince and Johnny to take the car and get rid of it. I didn't think that they'd only go a few miles. How stupid was that?”
I didn't say anything. Vince and John were certainly not criminal masterminds, that was for sure.
I tried to keep her talking. ”Why did you break into my office?” I asked. ”Were you just trying to get the paper back?”
She looked at me quizzically and then a mental light went on in her head. ”Oh, that was Vince. I told him that I thought I might have given away something in the paper, and he freaked out.” She smiled slightly. ”How weird was it that we were doing Macbeth?”
”Yeah, weird,” I agreed. ”When did Vince give you the necklace?” I asked.
She touched it to make sure that it was still there. ”A few weeks ago.”
”What does the X mean?” I asked.
”It's my birthday. October tenth. The tenth day of the tenth month.”
”And X is ten in Roman numerals,” I said. ”Clever.”
”Well, it's a heck of a lot nicer than wearing a ten around your neck. That would look cheesy.” She s.h.i.+fted again. We sat in silence, looking at each other for what seemed like hours, but what was really only a few minutes.
”So, what do you think I should do?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.
”I think you should give yourself up,” I said.
”What's going to happen to me?” she asked.
I looked at Crawford to provide some kind of explanation. ”If you explain everything to the judge just like you explained it to us, I'm sure you'll be able to work things out,” he said. I knew that he was lying, but looking at her, I could tell that she was buying whatever he was selling.
She stood up and smoothed her skirt down and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ”Well, that's good. I feel much better.”
Crawford stood as well. ”So, let's take a ride to the precinct, and we can get everything down in writing and on video.”
She looked at him in shock. ”I've got an awards ceremony tonight.”
”I'm afraid you're going to have to miss it, Fiona,” he said gently, taking her arm. It was the first time I had seen him use the sad face with anyone but me.
Fiona shook loose from his grasp and lunged across the table, grabbing the large pair of scissors that I had used on her paper. She turned and stabbed him once in the shoulder, and another time right above his heart, stunning herself and the two of us. She looked at me, dropped the scissors and ran for the door.
Crawford put his hand over the shoulder wound and doubled over at the same time. Blood seeped between his fingers, and his white s.h.i.+rt bloomed crimson in seconds. He grabbed the gun from his ankle and pointed it at her back. ”Fiona! Stop or I'll shoot you dead,” he said, loudly but calmly.
She skidded to a stop, inches from the door to the stairway. She slowly put her hands up over her head, but kept her back to us. Crawford got up, holding the wound closest to his heart closed with his left hand, aiming the gun with his right. I watched as he walked over to her, grabbed her roughly by the collar of her silk blouse, and dragged her back to the table. He threw her into the same chair in which she had been sitting during our conversation. The chair moved back several inches when her body hit it, and she let out a yelp. She rubbed her left elbow with the palm of her right hand.
”Alison, call nine-one-one,” he said, pressing on his shoulder with the palm of his hand. ”Tell them it's a ten-thirteen. My badge number is one-seven-four-three-oh.”
Wyatt told me later that a 10-13 meant ”officer needs a.s.sistance,” and that it would bring every available squad car in a twenty-mile radius to the scene. He held the gun on Fiona, inches from her face. She stared into the barrel, perhaps finally understanding the severity of the situation.
Crawford cursed under his breath, and winced. He was furious with her, and I think it took every ounce of control for him not to blow her head off. The blood was pooling on the floor around him, and I watched him as I made the call. The color was draining from his face, and he was getting weak. After I hung up, I ran back to where they were sitting and stripped off my half slip.
I bent to pick up the scissors. ”Leave them. They're evidence,” he commanded, but his voice was small.
I ripped the black nylon slip in two and wrapped it around his shoulder and tried to stop the bleeding. It was only minutes later that I heard the wail of several police cars and the steady bleat of an ambulance siren. I stood behind him and put my arms under his armpits as he slid down in the chair, losing consciousness. His head fell straight back and I could see the thick layer of sweat covering his face. The gun slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor, dropping beside him but inching closer to Fiona.
Fiona and I looked at it. I had Crawford and her chair in my path. She reached down and grabbed the gun.