“Describe him.”
“Here we go again.”
Boone moved closer to her, invading her personal space. “Describe him,” he said to her with a look so hard she almost buckled.
But she didn’t. That look might work on the locals, she couldn’t let it work on her or he’d lose all respect for her too. “I’ve got to get back to the office, Chief,” she said.
Boone stared at her. They were so close she could smell his cologne and he could smell her sweet perfume. A smell, he knew, that would remain with him. “You don’t snitch, and that’s good,” he said. “But not when it comes to me.”
He was too close to her. But oddly enough, she didn’t feel trapped. She felt warmed by his nearness, as if he was a blanket to the coldness of the town around her. And she needed that comfort. “I don’t know his name,” she said again, “but he was one of the young people inside.”
“The one with dreadlocks?” Boone asked.
Charly was surprised he got it right off the bat. “Yes,” she said.
Boone nodded with a look of satisfaction on his face. She was willing to help him. That’s my girl, he inwardly found himself saying again. And then admonished himself again.
“You know him?” Charly asked him.
“I know him. He told me something to that effect earlier in the week.”
“Oh. So you already knew about the Dalbert Lee’s connection?”
Boone nodded. “Don’t know if I believe it, but yes, I know about it.”
“Is the guy with the dreads related to the Brown family?”
“Malcolm is his name, and no. He’s a friend of Rita Mae’s.”
“Oh, okay. That would explain it then.”
“Explain what?”
“Why he would point the police away from Amos and toward a drug dealer when, if Amos is found to be the perp, the family could stand to make a lot of money from Saint Chris.”
Boone nodded. “Good point,” he said. “I thought about that too.”
“He must have been more than just a friend to her, though.”
Boone nodded. “He was.”
“That would explain it then. When you care about somebody, you shouldn’t care about the money. You should care about them. Maybe he just wants justice for Rita Mae.”
Her words cut Boone short, and he found himself staring at her again. Her saying that a person shouldn’t care about money when you care about somebody, echoed in his mind. Because every woman he’d ever dated cared deeply about the money. His money. But this dean was different.
Or was she?
He wanted to ask her out again, to test the theory. But he was worried that he could fall hard for her. That she could break his heart. He decided against going there.
“I’d better let you get back to your office,” he said. “And thanks for telling me,” he said to her. “The sooner you realize I’m not the boogey man, the better.”
Charly smiled. She was already beginning to realize that.
Boone stood back and she opened her car door.
“And Charly,” he said just as he was about to head to his own car.
Charly looked at him. “Yes?”
“The next time I say you aren’t going to answer a question, you’d better not answer it.”
Charly couldn’t believe he’d just said that to her.
Until he said this: “They’re going to use your answer against the school you work for in a court of law. You will be called to testify against the school, I guarantee it.”
Charly was shocked. “To testify?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Charly had to testify against her deceased husband’s killer. It was a horrible experience. She never wanted to see the inside of a witness stand ever again. “But I didn’t say anything amazing,” she said. “What I said was obvious. It was common sense.”
“You said they will have a good case because of Amos’s arrest.”
“That’s not what I said. I said if he was found to be guilty, they had a good case.”
“All that matters,” Boone said, “is that you said they have a good case. That’s all the plaintiff’s attorneys in the civil suit to come wants the jury to hear. And they’re skilled enough to make it happen.” Boone gave her a hard look. “I know what I’m doing, Charly,” he said. “For your own good, you need to start realizing it.”
Then he left her side, walked over to that Ferrari, got in, and then sped away.
Charly got into her own car. But she sat behind the wheel. She was upset with herself. Because the chief was right. She should not have given any opinion whatsoever about that situation. But her big mouth couldn’t shut up. She wanted to be honest with the grieving mother. Now that same grieving mother, she knew, was going to turn her words against her.
Great, she thought. Another reason for them to get rid of her. It was just a matter of time before her black behind was in the unemployment line once again.
She cranked up, disgusted with herself, and was about to shift her gear to Drive, until there was a knock on her window.
Startled, she turned quickly. Another young person from inside of the house, this time a young lady, was standing at her car door.
She rolled down her window (they were not electric), but not enough for somebody to get a fist inside of that window and harm her. “Yes?” she asked her.
“You need to check out Dalbert,” the young lady said.
Charly felt as if she had missed half of the conversation. “Excuse me?”
“If you wanna know who killed Rita Mae,” she said, “check out Dalbert.” Then the young lady left, too, and went the same way Dreadlocks had gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pauley Manchin looked at his watch again and then shook his head. “What’s taking so long?” he asked Bellows. They were seated in Bellows car, just outside of the correctional institution, waiting patiently for the inmate release. “They said be here at nine am. We got here before nine am. Now it’s damn near eleven and he’s still not out yet.”
“They’re never on time,” Bellows said. “And they do it on purpose, too. They never wanna give these cons a break even when they’re getting out.”
“But it’s been two hours. Two hours! This is ridiculous!”
“Like I said, they’re never on time,” his partner said again. He was about to say more, but then the gate opened and the man they both had been waiting for began heading their way.
Pauley smiled. “There’s the man of the hour.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and began getting out of the car. “There’s my boy!” When he stepped out of the car, he lifted both hands with his arms open wide. “What’s up, Tabloski?”
Romney Tabloski grinned and ran across the busy street with his pants sagging the way they had when he first walked into that joint, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from there. When he made it to the car, he and Pauley embraced.
“You took your sweet time,” Pauley said.
“Yeah, right,” Tabloski said. “Like my release was up to me. Get out of here!”
Pauley laughed as Tabloski got in the front seat while Pauley got in the back. Tabloski and Bellows gave a handshake/hug combo.