THE NICE DETECTIVE, THE big one, said to call him Mike. He said he knew how hard this was for me and not to worry because he’d be with me every step of the way. He had a daughter about my age, he said. He knew what it was like, trusting somebody so much you get led down the wrong path. When you’re young and impressionable it can happen real easy, he said. The main thing was now I’d come to them. I was doing the right thing.
I didn’t even know what the right thing was anymore. All I knew was I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit in my house anymore going crazy. At least this way I’d have something to do. Somebody’d be talking to me besides my mom, that never leaves me alone.
So they hooked me up with this tape recorder I put on under my clothes. There’s a little microphone, but it’s so small you can’t hardly tell it’s there. Plus it’s not like I’d be wearing some skintight midriff top. I always wear these baggy tops anyways.
Then I called up Suzanne, like they told me. At first she just says she doesn’t have anything to say to me anymore, and would I please just leave her alone. But then I say no, I got to talk to her. I’ve been wondering if maybe I should talk to the cops. I hated saying that—lying, when really I already talked plenty to the cops. But Mike explained to me that sometimes it’s like a white lie you got to tell, so in the end the real truth gets told. I was like an operative of the police department. Like a spy. Only I was working for the good side.
I knew when I said that about talking to the police that she’d have to get together with me. “All right,” she says. “We’ll meet at the mall. Just don’t call the police or anything dumb like that.” I figure she picked the mall to remind me about all the fun times we had there. Maybe she was even planning on buying me some more underwear. But there wasn’t anything I wanted anymore. I don’t even wear my sneakers, if you want to know how bad I feel.
She was already waiting when I got there. Mike would’ve given me a ride only that would’ve tipped her off. So I got this friend of my aunt’s that works at the Wendy’s right near there to drop me off. It was a hot day, and I’ll tell you, I was sweating so much you had to wonder if maybe it was going to short-circuit the tape recorder.
She was carrying a bag. It was these little gold earrings just like she wears. “I wanted you to have these,” she said. “Fourteen-karat gold always has a different look from the fake stuff. It’s the little things people notice.”
I would’ve given them back only then she’d just wonder what was up, so I said thanks. I put them in my bag but I knew I wouldn’t ever wear them.
“So,” she said. “What’s this crazy business about talking to the police?”
“Well I was just wondering,” I said. “Now that they’ve arrested the boys and they know about you and Jimmy and everything. You know Russell’s going to tell about you putting him up to it, if they haven’t guessed it all already. Maybe the best would be to tell them everything and then they wouldn’t be so mad, knowing we told the truth.”
“Are you nuts?” she said. “It’s not like we’re talking about shoplifting a pack of gum or anything. You know what the penalty would be for murder?”
“It was only an idea,” I said. “I was just wondering.”
“Look,” she said, “it’s important not to panic now. Just because they picked up Jimmy and Russell is no reason for you and I to Worry. Everybody knows those two are troublemakers. Nobody’s going to believe them. The main thing is the police don’t have any evidence against us. No fingerprints. No weapon. Nothing.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But you can’t very well let Jimmy and Russell take all the blame when it wasn’t just their fault. The whole thing being your idea and everything. You can’t just leave them to rot in jail.”
“Look,” she said. “They wouldn’t even be in this mess if they’d kept quiet. I had everything planned perfectly, if they’d just followed directions and not gone blabbing about it. They fucked up is all. It’s not my fault they can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let them drag you and me down.”
“I can’t sleep at night sometimes,” I told her. “Sometimes I just lay there, thinking about him. Larry I mean. I wonder if he’s up there someplace, hating us. I know this sounds crazy, but I even wonder about God. If he knows. And sometimes I think somebody’s going to come get me. Punish me, like in that movie Carrie.”
“The only ones you should be scared of are the cops, Liddy,” she told me. “Don’t you know you’re the one that would get in the biggest trouble of all if they found out?”
“What do you mean?” I said. “I wasn’t even there that night. In the end I even tried to stop you.”
“That’s not the way I remember it,” she said. “The way I remember it is you planned the whole thing. If you hadn’t gone and got that gun, Larry would be alive today.”
“But you asked me to get the gun,” I said. “You asked Jimmy to do it. You were the one that offered Russ the money.”
“What money?” she said. “Did Russell receive any money from me? The way it looks to me is Jimmy had a crazy adolescent obsession with me, and he had built up this bizarre idea that if he killed Larry, he could have me. Russell’s such an animal he figured he’d come along for the thrill of it. And you were so hung up on Jimmy you’d do anything just to be near him. Knowing you couldn’t have him yourself. Seems to me like you were getting your kicks off of thinking about Jimmy and me. Sexually frustrated people do things like that. If they know nobody’s ever going to be interested in them, for their own self. And let’s face it, Jimmy barely knew you existed, before.”
I was feeling dizzy. I wished I had a piece of chocolate to put in my mouth, just to calm my nerves. I remember staring down at those earrings she gave me, kind of like I used to stare at this picture of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn that we used to have on our wall. When Chester was touching me. Just think about the kitten, I’d tell myself. Keep thinking about the kitten.
“I thought we were friends,” I said. And the truth is, even then, even sitting there with this tape recorder strapped to my bra, I was wishing we could just be friends and feeling bad I was doing this to her. Only now it was hitting me, whatever I’d do to her, that was nothing compared to what she’d do to me.
“I was at a job interview the night of the murder,” she said. “It seems to me all the evidence points to you.”
“You were the best friend I ever had,” I told her. “The only friend.” I’m crying now. That part wasn’t some act for the cops either. I couldn’t help that part.
“Yeah, well then,” she said to me, “take a little advice from a friend, why don’t you? Just keep your fucking mouth shut. It’s just their word against mine. And who are they? A bunch of sixteen-year-old losers who grew up in shacks, and their parents sit around drinking and screwing their cousins? I’m a professional person, for goodness sake. I come from a good home. Who do you think a jury would believe?”