Ear-Witness Page 11

  “My wife,” Dad said. “And her son, from her first marriage.”

  lust to be polite, I had another look. The kid looked like trouble.

  There was one file folder, a bright red one, lying on the desk. Dad picked it up and settled in his chair. “How about we talk business first,” he said. “Then after that, we’ll talk about ourselves. Maybe get some lunch. Deal?”

  I squeezed my hands together. “Deal,” I said.

  I spent about an hour with Raffi yesterday. And after that I spoke to the Crown Attorney. She has a file like this with all the police evidence in it, and she’s the one who’ll be against us in court.”

  He sighed, and looked across at me. His face was sort of sad. “I hope you aren’t expecting miracles,” he said. “I can’t wave a magic wand and get him released.”

  He was watching me, which was something he’d been doing a lot of ever since I got there. Finally I said, “You think he did it, don’t you?”

  He hesitated. “That’s an impossible question to answer right now.”

  “You think he did it, and you don’t want to tell me.” I said. “Because you know I’ll be really upset.”

  “What’s important Jess, is what the police and the Crown Attorney think. Let me tell you about the evidence against him. Perhaps between us we can find some flaws in it.”

  “OK” I wiped a tear away with my thumb. He saw that too.

  “First, there are the two eyewitnesses,” he said. “People who independently saw someone leave your building that night.”

  “Mr. Orellana is one,” I said. “But he only said it was someone big.”

  “Here we are. Statement of Roberto Orellana. I’ll read it. The person I saw was big like the black man who visits Mrs. March. He came from around the side of the building. It was three o’clock in the morning. The other person,” Dad said, turning over some more pages, “— where is that statement? — the other witness wasn’t able to pinpoint the time, but he saw a man leave the building through the front door some time during the night...”

  “Through the front? And the other guy said from the side?”

  “Yes. I pointed out that discrepancy to the Crown Attorney, but if she thought it was important, she didn’t let on. Anyway, this second witness later identified Raphael Morgan, Raffi, as the person he saw that night. He picked him out of a line-up.”

  “Who was it who saw him?” I said.

  Dad had his finger holding a place in the file, and he turned back to it. “Here we are,” he said. The second witness. Ronald Roach. That name sounds familiar.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Are you OK, Jess? Is this stuff getting to be too much for you?”

  “Ronald Roach is too much for me,” I said. “Ronald Roach is ...” For a moment I didn’t know where to start. I just sat there flapping my hands around. Then I remembered. Dad was there at the beginning.

  “You know him,” I said. “He cut Natalie’s hair off. In front of my school.”

  “Him!” Dad said. “He’s still in the area?”

  “He was away for a while but he came back. He’s in one of my classes.”

  Dad frowned. “He was in detention. Then he was supposed to live with some relative up north, if I remember correctly.”

  “Well, now he’s living with his father just down the street from us and he’s been giving me a really hard time. He just hates me. I had to report him to the principal because he was harassing me, and since then ...” I did a few more hand flaps, and shook my head. The truth is I was totally flipped out, but in a kind of good way, because I was beginning to smell what the Roach had done.

  “Start at the beginning,” Dad said. “What was he harassing you about?”

  So that’s what I did. I told him the whole story about that: the fat-girl words, even the worst ones; the hate stare in the hall when I was with Kelly; the trouble the Roach was in at school; how Raffi talked to him; the whole thing. The more I said, the madder Dad got.

  “I’d like to punch that little jerk’s lights out,” Dad said. “I will, too, but I’ll do it legally. From what you’ve said it seems like this is all verifiable, through the principal? How you’ve felt personally threatened? The whole thing?” he asked.

  “Yes, and through Sheena, the cop. I never told her the Roach’s name, but she knows I’ve been harassed.”

  Dad was looking at the notes he’d taken when I was talking, and bobbing his head up and down. “There are possibilities here, Jess. Of discrediting this miserable little... Roach as a witness. Which would certainly be very helpful for Raffi. Let me tell you about the other evidence though, before we get too excited here.”

  I groaned. “The fingerprints?” I said.

  “The fingerprints. A lot of unidentified prints were picked up in the Birds’ apartment. Yours are certainly among them. But Raffi’s were too.”

  “I can’t believe that,” I said. “I just can’t.”

  “Fingerprints don’t lie, Jess.”

  “I know. They weren’t just on the door frame or something were they? I mean, if he stopped to talk to Tammi...?”

  “They were in two different places. Only two. Which is somewhat unusual. The police theory is that he wiped the others away, and just missed these.” Dad shrugged.

  I sighed. “Where were they?” I didn’t know why I was asking that, but it was something to say.

  “On an empty soft drink can, which was on the floor in the living area, and on a magazine. Inside the magazine as well as on the cover, as if he’d looked all through it. Which is a rather strange thing for a murderer to do, but I suppose he could have been waiting for Mr. Bird to come home.”

  Sometimes when I’ve forgotten something, but I’m almost remembering it, I have this weird feeling. Mom says it’s because the forgotten thing is on the tip of my tongue, but that isn’t quite right. It’s more like it’s on the tip of my brain, outside it, just teasing me. I had that feeling then, but that’s all it was. A feeling that I should remember something. It didn’t go anywhere.

  “The police theory,” Dad said, “is that Bird and Raffi were involved in some crime together. That’s because of Bird’s criminal record. He robbed a bank twelve years ago. Did you know about that?”

  “Ray was a bank robber?” I said. “That’s really creepy.”

  Dad was looking at the file again. “Um hum,” he said. “His fingerprints showed up on the police computer as those of Al Green, so he’d been living under an assumed name. He was in jail for eight years.”

  “Ray and Al Green were the same person?” I groaned.

  “According to this. Let’s just check the description.” He turned a few pages over. “Was Bird a big heavy guy?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Hair brown, eyes brown, no distinguishing marks?”

  “No!” I said. “He had red hair.”

  When Dad looked up, he was frowning. “How red?” he said. “Dark or bright?”

  “Dark, I guess.”

  “Funny. Could be some cop is colour-blind,” he said. “Hang on a minute.” He flipped through some more pages. “Here,” he said. “Identification of body: Mrs. Tammi Bird and Mrs. Theresa Goodwin. Do you know this Goodwin woman?”

  “Tammi’s friend,” I said.

  “Mmmm.” He wrote something down. “Has there been a funeral yet?”

  “Last week,” I said. “We didn’t know about it until it was all over. It was private.”

  “One last thing. Then we’ll go for lunch and a chat. “If the police want to interview you again, I want to know about it.”

  I nodded. “OK.”

  “You’re in a bit of a bind. They’ll be wanting information from you, and if you give them any, they’ll use it against Raffi.”

  “Against Raffi?”

  “I’m afraid so. If you’re contacted again, don’t even tell them the time of day. Just call me.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “You’re looking pretty flat,
Jess. The giant sit on you again?”

  “Yeah,” I said. It was an old joke between us, but that’s exactly how I felt. The giant sat on me.

  CHAPTER 23

  After I left my dad, I felt great about him, but terrible about Raffi. It was like I was split into two pieces. When I got home, I knew Mom wouldn’t be back from work yet, so I knocked at the Orellanas’ door, hoping Flavia would be there, but nobody answered.

  Upstairs, when I turned the key in the lock like I usually do, the same key I’ve been using since I was seven, nothing happened. I had to turn it again before the door would open. I stood out in the hall a moment, thinking about that. Obviously the door hadn’t been locked at all. I frowned. Mom left before I did, so I couldn’t blame it on her, and Raffi was in jail, so it wasn’t him either. Had I done that?

  There was another puzzle inside the apartment. A bag of oatmeal cookies, surrounded by crumbs, sat on the table beside an open cartor of milk and a used glass. Either we’d had a hungry burglar or someone who knew where we kept the extra key had come by for a snack. I looked around the room. Nothing was missing, and nothing was out of place. It hadn’t been a burglar. I thought about the hidden key, and the only other person who knew where we kept it. Then I laughed.

  The door to my room was shut. I pushed it open, slowly, shoving aside a dusty green backpack and a pair of wet-looking running shoes. A large lump was huddled under the covers of my bed. The lump had light blonde hair.

  I backed carefully out the door, then tiptoed down the hall to the living room and telephoned the lump’s mother.

  The Pain answered. She was chewing something that snapped. From the sound effects it had to be gum, a big wad of it. Bubble gum.

  “This is Jess,” I said. “Is your mom there?”

  “What do you want her for?”

  I groaned. “I need to speak to her,” I said. “You shouldn’t talk on the phone and blow bubbles at the same time.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s rude, you clown.”

  “I mean why do you want to talk to her, dummy.”

  “It’s important! Just get her, will you. Please?”

  “Not until you tell me why you want her, I won’t.”

  I sighed. “If I had a sister like you,” I said, “I’d seriously consider running away from home.”

  “Oink,” she said.

  I sighed again. “I know where Kelly is,” I said.

  The phone clattered when she dropped it, and I could hear her screeching. “Mom! Mom! Mom! Guess what? Jess found Kelly!”

  Mrs. Curran had a carrying sort of a voice too. “Oh, my goodness! Oh, my dear! Oh, heavens!” I heard. When she picked up the receiver she was doing that laughing-crying thing mothers do when they’re really happy. “Jess, dear, is it really true? You got a letter, didn’t you? Is she all right? You have absolutely no idea how worried I’ve been. She did go out west, didn’t she? Or was it the States?”

  “She’s in my bed,” I said. “Why don’t you come right over?”

  After I hung up I went back down the hall to my room, only this time I didn’t bother being quiet. I shoved Kelly’s things into a corner, pulled the chair away from my desk, and sat down, facing her.

  “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed,” I said, in a great big Daddy Bear voice. My Momma Bear voice was smooth and refined. Baby Bear squeaked. I was just finishing up with his “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed, and here she is!” when the lump heaved and one bleary blue eye peered out at me.

  “Very funny,” Kelly mumbled.

  “I thought so,” I said. “I see you remembered about the key in the flower-pot.”

  “Um.” She pulled herself up on one elbow, and flashed me her kindergarten grin.

  “You feel like talking?” I asked.

  She combed her hair with her fingers while she thought about that. Then she shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “I got hungry. Joey and I fought. His feet stink.”

  “I called your mom,” I said. “She’ll be here in about two minutes.”

  Kelly looked right at me then. “You didn’t.”

  “I did,” I said. Then I flashed my kindergarten grin

  “She’ll kill me!”

  “Nah,” I said. “Maybe later, but not in front of me.”

  Kelly’s reunion with her mother was tense. After they left, I changed into shorts and a tank top and headed out to our back deck to work on my tan. I had just finished oiling my legs when I heard noises below me. Somebody was on Tammi’s deck too.

  I tiptoed across to the stairs, carefully lowered myself onto my stomach and inched my head over the edge. The back part of each step is open, perfect for spying.

  It was Tammi. She was all dolled up in hot-pink tights and a matching halter that was barely decent. When she unfolded the stroller and manoeuvred it from the deck into the apartment, I figured that if she was going to walk somewhere, I might learn something if I went too.

  As soon as the lock clicked on her back door, I whipped inside, changed into a T-shirt, ran a comb through my hair and grabbed my knapsack. Then I took up a surveillance position at our front window.

  Tammi moves fast, even in the killer heels she wears, and it didn’t take her long to get Brianna and herself out the front door. When she turned the corner and was out of my view, I ran down the stairs and followed, keeping at least a half block behind her until she turned onto Queen. It’s one of the busiest streets in Parkdale, and there are a lot of pedestrians to hide behind, so I moved up a little closer. A few blocks later she turned into a store. I hung back at first, waiting for her to come out, then I jay-walked across the street to get a better view. When I saw the sign I grinned all over my face. Trevor’s Travel, it said. See the World. Best Prices in Toronto.

  Whatever Tammi did in there took about fifteen minutes. When she came out, she tucked an envelope into the carrying bag behind the stroller and turned back the way she came.

  Waiting had given me time to work out a plan. I cut across the street again, opened the door and went inside.

  Two guys about my age were slouched down in webbed plastic garden chairs, reading travel magazines. When I breezed in they checked me out in that sleazy way some guys do — eyes boring through my clothes from head to toe, with several stops in between. I ignored them. I was on a mission.

  A counter ran across the back of the store, and the man behind it had deep lines between his nose and his mouth, and several more creasing his forehead. A forest of curly chest hair peeked out through the open neck of his shirt.

  “What can I do for the pretty girl today?” he said. His smile was friendly, but he had wandering eyes too. The creeps out front were probably his kids.

  I took a deep breath. Act, I told myself. Act your little heart out. “I was hoping you could help me,” I said, flashing my best smile. “If you wouldn’t mind answering some questions?”

  A bead curtain hanging behind the counter flipped open and a tiny, very old woman bustled out. Her thin grey hair was pulled back into a knot and her jaw sunk into her neck as if she didn’t have a tooth in her head. She was too old to be Trevor’s wife, so she had to be his mother.

  There was something tough about her, tough in a good way. She didn’t say a word but she folded her skinny arms across her high little pot belly and glared at the two guys behind me, at Trevor, and at me.

  “You from the government?” Trevor said.

  “No, no. It’s a project for my school. I have some questions about the travel business.” I fished my history notebook out of my knapsack and opened it to a page with writing on it. Then I grabbed a pen. “Like, um, what country do most of your clients travel to?”

  Trevor grinned. “That is easy question,” he said. “They go home. To Philippines, to Somalia, to Croatia, to Serbia, to Vietnam. Where home is, they go.”

  I scribbled a few words in the margin of my book while I was planning the next question. “Are your clients mostly men or women?”

  “Men,�
�� he said. “Few women also.”

  “And the men, do they buy tickets just for themselves, or do they take their families with them,” I said.

  “For self mostly. Sometimes for family,” he said. “Sometimes is nice to escape wife.” He smiled slyly.

  The woman didn’t like that at all. She flicked her eyes towards mine. Her words, in her own language, were as sharp as a cut across the mouth.

  “There was a woman who left just before I got here,” I said. “A woman with a baby. Did she buy a ticket just for herself, or what?” I tried out a sly sort of smile myself.

  Trevor winked. “Pretty lady,” he said. “She buys for self, for baby, for man. Maybe he is husband, maybe somebody else.”

  The old lady laughed at that, and just to be friendly, so did I.

  “Well, I hope she’s going somewhere nice,” I said. “Someplace glamorous, like Paris or Venice or ...”

  Trevor shrugged. “United States,” he said. “Then maybe South America.” He wiggled his hands up and down in front of him. “Maybe not.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Flavia and Jon already knew that Raffi had been arrested, and that my dad was involved, but they didn’t know about the new evidence. We met at my place and the three of us lounged around in our big front room while I brought them up to date. I told them about Tammi’s planned trip with her boyfriend, about Al Green and Ray being the same person, about Ronny Roach being the second witness, and about Raffi’s fingerprints being in Tammi’s apartment.

  “My dad said he’d talk to the police about the Roach,” I said. “But we can’t expect much to happen until Raffi’s trial.”

  “You mean,” Jon said, “that even though you can prove the Roach hates you, and probably lied about seeing Raffi just to get even with you, you can’t do anything about it?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Not until the Roach gives his story in court. Then, when the jury hears my side, hopefully they won’t believe a word he says.”

  “Mr. Raffi must stay in jail?” Flavia asked.

  I nodded. “Unless we can produce a miracle.”