| |
“Rochelle, listen,” I said, as calmly as I could under the circumstances. “All I want is to help Tina.”
“She was wit’ me all night, okay?” she said, waving the razor in my line of sight. I kept it in view, prepared to duck if she lashed out. “Don’t matter ’zactly where or what we was doing. She was wit’ me.”
I tried to swallow and could not. While my mouth was bone dry, my armpits were soaked. “I want to believe that, Rochelle. But the cops may think you’re lying to protect her.”
“I tole’ you, I don’t wanna be draggin’ Greg into this.”
“It’s too late,” I said. “I already spoke to Mr. Thompson about him.”
“Sheee-it.” She stopped waving the razor, but kept it raised. “Now I’ma have to deal with Mr. Tom, too? Thanks, bitch. You a real help.”
“What Greg was doing is wrong. And it’s illegal. Do you have any idea how serious it is?”
Rochelle looked at me like I was crazy. “So what about it?” She waved the razor, as she spoke. Every move sent shivers up my spine. “Ain’t no thing. We had a sweet deal going wit’ Greg. We was paid to do that shit.”
So some of the embezzled money had trickled down to Rochelle and the gang. And I bet it was a trickle by the time it reached them.
“I’m sorry, Rochelle, but someone had to shut him down.”
She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Fine. I guess we’ll go back to selling drugs and stolen credit cards for money. It’s riskier an’ more work, but at leas’ we won’t be havin’ sex,” she said with mock horror.
Telling Rochelle that the gig was up seemed to defuse her anger. Maybe enough that she would answer some questions. “If you really want to help Tina,” I said, “I could use some information. There was a tall, skinny kid here, around eight o’clock the night Tina’s mother was killed. The neighbor thought it was Tina, but she was with you at the time. It might have been a boy. Or even a short adult. If it was a kid, I don’t know what he or she was doing here.” I paused. “This person could have killed Shanae. Or maybe came to see Tina and stumbled across Shanae’s body.” I stopped to catch my breath. “Is there anyone else you know who looks like Tina?”
Rochelle lowered the razor but kept a wary eye on me. “I dunno. Tina taller than mosta the girls, so she kinda stand out, you know?”
“What about a boy?”
“She don’t have no boyfriend I know about.”
“Do you remember if Greg stayed at the party the entire time you were there?”
“Yeah.” She looked unsure for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, he did.”
Maybe it was true. Maybe she was lying to protect Beaufort. If only we all had foolproof bullshit meters.
“Rochelle, you and Tina and the others got a ride that night. I understand you left the party a little before nine. Is that so?”
Rochelle nodded.
“If the driver could tell the police what time you were picked up, it would provide Tina with an alibi.”
“She can’t.”
“Why not?”
“She don’t have no license. Jus’ a car she borrowed.”
Borrowed or stole, I thought. Scratch another alibi.
“In that case, Greg or someone else who was present will have to make a statement about the time you left Greg’s place. I assume you were at Greg’s.”
“Yep.”
“Whoever gives that statement will have to tell the cops all the details. That means, even if I didn’t tell them, everything would still come out.”
“Anyone can make a statement. They don’t have to say what we was doin’.”
“Rochelle, the DVD is evidence in another case. Apart from what these men did to you, I have to give it to the cops.”
Rochelle gave me a blank stare. “DVD? Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout?”
“Greg didn’t tell you?” I paused to gather my thoughts. She looked at me like I was speaking Sanskrit. “Those parties were recorded. That’s how I learned about this. And the recording provides airtight evidence that Tina was someplace other than at home, at least part of the night her mother was murdered. Getting someone to say exactly when she left is crucial.”
Rochelle’s eyes narrowed. A collective murmur rose from the gang.
“How much are they paying you to do it? The parties?” I asked.
Rochelle snapped the razor shut and slipped it into her bra. She turned to address her posse. “Y’all can go, okay.” They dispersed. When they were outside of earshot, she spoke. “We need to talk bid’ness.”
We both fell silent. The Branch Avenue traffic was a distant hum.
Rochelle fixed me in her gaze. “A hundred dollah a session. For me. The others get fitty. Way I see it, I set ’dis thing up, I should get more o’ the cheese.”
I shook my head. “Someone is paying thousands of dollars for these. They’re doing something with those images, and they’ll probably make much more than they’re spending. And they’re paying you shit.” I paused for effect. “You’re the talent. And they’re screwing you in more ways than one.”
Rochelle may not have given a rat’s ass about statutory rape or child porn, but she sure understood money. She scowled, her eyes reduced to lizard-like slits. “Mutherfuckers. I din’t know they was takin’ pitchers.”
* * * * *
I got Rochelle’s cell number and said I’d call her as soon as I was ready to go to the cops. Without pressure from me, she told me she’d heard from Tina but hadn’t seen her since before her arrest. I told her she had to let me know if she heard from Tina. If we all went to the cops together, I hoped we could straighten things out.
I dismissed the thought of stopping at Russell’s to see what was in the FedEx package before going to the police. I was too anxious to get the DVD into police hands, so I went straight to CID and asked for Detective Willard. A uniformed officer escorted me to Willard’s desk.
“I wanted to give this to you,” I said, handing him the disc. “I believe it’s behind Sondra Jones’s murder.” I told him all about the DVD and the game developers who’d bought it from Narsh. I ran through my theory about the two of them stealing from Kozmik by hacking into the computer system to create the phony vendor account. I filled him in on my surprise visit from Diesel plus my hunch that Cooper had been involved and had been silenced permanently because he knew too much. I told him that evidence I expected to receive later in the day might support the scenario.
Willard listened patiently, nodding and taking notes. He looked up. “Could you stop pacing, please? I’m getting motion sickness.”
“Sorry.” I didn’t even know I was doing it.
“No problem. Go ahead and e-mail me the men’s photos and names. I’ll make sure someone looks into this as a separate matter, too.” He waved the disc.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’d like a copy to go to the detective on the Shanae Jackson murder. It shows my client was . . . otherwise occupied when the murder was committed.”
He nodded. “I’ll see that Detective Harris gets a copy.”
Leaving the office, I felt great relief. I’d have good news for Walt. I hoped I could do the same for Tina.
As I walked out to my car, my cell phone rang. The number had been blocked, but I answered anyway.
“Ms. McRae? . . . Sam?” The voice faltered, but it was Tina’s.