Chapter Thirty-Six

Cameron sat opposite her, Goldie on one side of him, and Stevenson on the other. The record button on the camera tucked in the corner was blinking like mad, but Raven was sure that the chief was watching from behind the two-way. He’d want to see what the camera’s eye might miss.

“We have a problem, Cameron,” Goldie was saying. “You don’t have an alibi. None. And you weren’t straight with us.”

“What do you mean he wasn’t straight with you?” Raven challenged.

Stevenson gave her a look, not an unfriendly look, and held up a finger. She sat back. He was right. She shouldn’t start this interview by launching an immediate defense.

“I told you that I had a date on Thursday,” Cameron said. “That I went to work on Friday.”

“I know what you told me,” Goldie said. “And if I remember correctly, I almost had to pull it out of you. But I’m not talking about your date or your workday on Friday. I’m talking about late Friday, early Saturday when Clyde was most likely killed.”

Cameron sighed, a big sigh as if this was the most annoying thing he had ever encountered in his life. “I told you. I played video games, watched some TV and fell asleep. Check my computer.”

“We have it, and you can best believe that we’ll check it,” Goldie said.

“What?” Raven said.

“Search warrant. Served it last night,” Goldie said.

“But I’m sure you could rig your computer up to make it look like you were playing. You had plenty of time to set up an alibi,” Stevenson said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Cameron said.

“Okay,” Goldie said, and shuffled around the papers he had in front of him. “Tell me about the insurance policies again. The trust fund.”

“What?” Cameron said. “We already covered this. Georgia and her lawyer set up an insurance policy on Noe in case something happened to him.”

“And how much was that for?” Goldie asked.

“I told you when we first talked. A few thousand. Maybe ten. Enough for a funeral.”

“Come on, Cameron,” Stevenson said. “We aren’t as stupid as we look.”

Raven raised both eyebrows. He ignored her. “We did some checking, and we found an insurance policy for a hundred thousand on Noe. That’s way more than a few thousand.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cameron waved his hand at Stevenson. “I may not be a cop, but I know how this stuff works. Y’all will lie like crazy to scare up some shit.”

Goldie pushed a paper toward Raven. She looked down at it. It was what they said, a State Farm insurance policy on Noe with Cameron listed as the beneficiary. Twenty bucks a month and a dead kid would get him one hundred thousand. Raven slid the policy over to Cameron.

“Found it in a shoebox marked with Noe’s name in the bottom of your closet next to a pair of Air Jordans,” Goldie said.

“So what? I got the number wrong. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“How could you get the number wrong?” Raven asked, already knowing the answer, her heart sinking. He didn’t read the papers before signing, not the man who rarely opened his snail mail.

“There were a lot of papers, Sis,” he said.

“I bet you’re also going to tell us that you didn’t call the insurance company to make the claim after Noe went missing?” Goldie said.

“That’s bullshit!” Now Cameron was standing. “I didn’t make any phone calls.”

“That’s funny.” Goldie offered another piece of paper, this time to Cameron. “The call came from your cell phone, and they had all the information needed to make the claim.”

“What number?” Cameron asked. “I have a couple of cell phones, one I lent to an old girlfriend and don’t have back yet. One of the reasons I let her go was she was too far up in my business. Maybe she knew about the insurance and made the claim to get back at me.”

“You let your old girlfriend keep your cell phone?” Stevenson asked.

“She was hurting for money. We made a deal that she would get it back to me once she was working again. I’d already hurt her enough. I figured that was the least I could do.”

“How princely of you,” Goldie said. “This the same woman you called a skank in our first interview? Benita Jeffers? The one who said Noe was cramping your style?”

“Yes, her. The only reason I called her a skank was because she was trying to set me up.”

“Was that voice on the call to State Farm male or female?” Raven asked.

Goldie didn’t answer the question. Raven stared at Goldie’s grim face. She could tell that he didn’t like what he was doing, but she couldn’t tell if he believed that Cameron was a serious suspect. She looked at the two-way. She could feel the chief behind the glass, watching.

“Another thing we are looking at is the trust fund,” Stevenson said.

Raven whipped her head around to face Stevenson. “Cameron told you about the trust fund. That shouldn’t be a surprise.” She looked back at her brother, who was nodding. He was as confused as she was.

“The insurance policy wasn’t the only thing we found in that shoebox,” Goldie said. “We also found papers that laid out the details of Noe’s trust fund. Cameron gets a little bit of money out of it monthly to take care of Noe like he said, but Noe gets the rest after he turns twenty-five. There’s a half-million dollars in it.”

“And if Noe dies,” Stevenson said, “Cameron gets that money.”

“You forgot to tell us that, Sport,” Goldie said.

“Fucking don’t call me Sport.”

“Well, what can I call you? You won’t let me call you son?”

“How about my fucking name?” Cameron said. “Put a mister in front of it while you’re at it, motherfucker.

“Your son is worth over a half-million dollars dead,” Goldie continued. “Plus, with him gone you could get on with living your player lifestyle.”

“I don’t have a player lifestyle,” Cameron said. “You think I paid any attention to that shit when I was trying to get my son? I was worried about having furniture, and a place for him to sleep. I was too busy trying to show everybody that I could be a good father to worry about this bullshit.”

“Speaking of a place to sleep, we also found the blankets in your closet,” Stevenson said.

Cameron opened his mouth to say something else, but Raven had had enough. She put her hand over his mouth like she used to do when they were kids and he tried to sing. “Don’t say another word,” she said. “It’s time to rethink that lawyer.”

He twisted his head away from beneath her hand. “Fuck that. I didn’t do anything to my son. Why don’t you believe me?”

Goldie picked up the iPad sitting beside him. He scrolled through the pictures so both Cameron and Raven could see. “These look familiar to you, Detective Burns?”

They did indeed look familiar, baby blue with white, fluffy clouds, the same blankets the serial killer used to shroud his victims.

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” Raven said before Cameron could respond. “Those blankets are common as dirt. It’s a coincidence.”

“I thought you said you hated coincidences?” Stevenson said.

“And we found a receipt still stuck to the unopened blanket,” Goldie continued. “You bought two. What happened to the other blanket, Mr. Armand?”

Cameron’s laugh was edged with bitterness. “First time someone calls me Mister, they’re accusing me of murder.”

“Don’t talk, Cameron,” Raven warned again, giving both Goldie and Stevenson a dangerous look. “It means nothing.”

“Where is Noe?” Stevenson said, his voice soft. “You know, I get it. The boys were supposed to spend the weekend with you, and Noe got mouthy. I know how teenagers can be. Maybe you were doing something, had a hammer, lost your temper. Clyde tried to defend him and things just got a little complicated. Nobody believes that you meant to kill him, man.”

“That didn’t happen,” Cameron said, his hands covering his face.

“You may not have had a choice with Clyde,” Goldie said. “But there was Noe hollering at you, and you realized that if you didn’t take care of him your life would be over, so you did him, too. Just an accident.”

“No,” Cameron said.

“What were the dates on those receipts?” Raven asked. “I bet my paycheck that you won’t find any transfer evidence from Cameron’s closet on the blanket Clyde was wrapped in.”

Both Goldie and Stevenson acted as if they hadn’t heard her question.

“And you know, you’re a young man, didn’t want to go to prison for the rest of your life for an accident, so you copied the Sleeping Boy killer,” Stevenson said. “I mean, come on, why would a man buy two of the same kind of blanket?”

“I bought two because Noe…” Cameron said, his voice muffled. Then he stopped, brought his hands down from his face. “I can’t tell you, man. All I can say is that I bought two in case one got so dirty I’d have to throw it out.”

Suddenly Raven understood. Noe had lost his mother, and his life had changed drastically. He was going through some things that were so traumatizing that they probably sent him back to his six-year-old self. Knowing Cameron, he would rather throw the blankets away rather than wash them.

“I bet you also found two of the same sheet sets as well, right? You can’t send a man to jail because he bought two of the same blanket,” Raven said. “Tell them, Cam.”

“Leave it alone, Raven,” Cameron said. “I don’t want Noe’s business out in the streets. They won’t believe anything I say anyway. It’d be a waste of time.”

Cameron’s eyes were teary, but he wasn’t crying. He had spent his entire life battling demons, and he was suddenly very tired. He tried to send a smile Raven’s way, but failed miserably. He sank back in his chair before putting his face back into his hands. “Okay, you got me,” he said.

Goldie nodded sadly. “You ready to make a statement, son?”

“Hell no, you don’t got him, and he’s not making any statement,” Raven said, knocking the iPad out of Goldie’s hand. “He wants a flocking lawyer, Goldie! Chief, give me more time,” she said, striding over to the two-way and pounding it with her fist. “You owe him that. You at least owe me that.”