Chapter Twenty-eight
Sandy hated the situation. She had to know if Linda was with her or against her. She needed Linda on her side. Having the situation in doubt was impossible. Twenty-four hours were left before Raymond would go from bad to worse.
She needed a shrewd angle fast. Perhaps she could persuade Linda to get some sort of controversial editorial printed that would upset things and delay the transfer. Maybe Linda wouldn't cooperate. Maybe she had something else in mind.
When Sandy entered the newsroom of the Park Beach newspaper Linda gave her a happy wave. "Hi Sugar, look at this." She pointed to her monitor. "My interview with old Mrs. Crawford."
"Anything good?"
"She saw a woman leaving the building a little after five that day but not up close. Crawford was down the block walking her dog."
"She recognize the woman?"
"She assumed it was 'that Spanish lady' because she recognized the scarf. They had met weeks earlier in the elevator, and they had talked about the scarf. Mrs. Crawford remembered the scarf because it had red and blue triangles, just like the pattern on a tablecloth she received as a wedding present sixty years ago."
Sandy smiled. "Let me guess. And she knew it was five, because she always walks the dog after her favorite TV show is over. Also, she didn't hear any shots because she's deaf."
"Corny but correct. If the world was inhabited with little old ladies, we'd all have an easier time of it."
"Was the woman wearing the scarf on her head?"
"You mean like hiding her face, I just assumed that. Also, she doesn't remember what else the woman was wearing. You look different, Sandy. What's wrong, this whole business getting to you?"
"Linda, you acted surprised when I mentioned Mrs. Crawford to you the other day, yet you must have been aware of her. There are only two apartments on that floor. You've been to Towson's apartment several times."
"You're right, a cop at the scene said there was a witness who described the scarf. I didn't think about Mrs. Crawford. But yes, I knew Towson from over the years. Sandy, you're using an accusatory tone and I think I know why. I must confess I did something very dumb."
"I don't want to hear this."
"No, not that bad. Goddard hauled me in because they found my prints on a wine glass found on Towson's nightstand."
"Geez, how does one explain one's prints at a murder scene?"
"In the middle of the afternoon that day, I went up there and interviewed Towson. I had a glass of wine with him in the study. After we talked, I picked up the glasses and put them in the kitchen by the sink. I left and forgot all about it."
Clever, very clever, Sandy thought. However, why try to hide it, if that's what actually happened? "So, how did the glasses find their way onto the nightstands?"
Linda shrugged, she didn't know.
"You didn't think having wine with him was important enough to tell the police?"
"No, I didn't. Why would I think it was significant to have a glass of wine with him in the study? Why on earth would I think someone would move my dirty glass from the kitchen to the bedroom?"
"Actually, the fact you put your dirty glass in the kitchen proves my theory of the bedroom scene being staged. The clever killer saw the dirty glasses and realized that someone's prints must be on them and placed them in the bedroom."
"This is all news to me. I didn't even know about wine glasses being found on the nightstands."
Here goes, showdown time. Was she with Sandy or against her? "Linda, have you been following me?"
"No, just that one night when Huress was stalking you. What makes you say that?"
"I have trouble believing you parked outside my apartment for two hours for investigative reporting reasons. Was that the truth?"
Linda waited some time before answering, "God, I feel like I'm back in high school right now. The truth is I kind of got fixated on you."
"Fixated?"
"Oh, God this is terrible. Sandy, the truth is you've just blown me away." She barely got the words out. She turned and took a deep breath. Her eyes were glistening when she looked back.
Sandy said nothing.
"So now you know. I couldn't believe it when you first walked in here. You have that big-city look and style. This is a small seaside town, there's nothing like you between Atlanta and Palm Beach." She straightened and made an embarrassed laugh. "I must stop telling you this stuff because, if I go on, I'll scare the hell out of you. You'll run out of here screaming."
"This is upsetting, Linda."
"The reason I parked outside your apartment for two hours is simple, I did it so I could be close to you. I sat staring up at your window imagining what you were doing. Wondering what you had on. And what I could do to impress you." She had to pause. "I never expected to have a chance-."
Linda was trembling. Sandy reached over and patted her arm. "It's okay you don't have to go on. Let's leave it right there."
"I'm over it now-all better." Linda laughed.
Sandy could see that she wasn't. Was her emotional outburst award-winning or sincere? Sandy wanted to think sincere, but she'd been wrong before. Perhaps, this was the time to get things straight. "Linda, you told me you were from Georgia."
Linda's head snapped up. She stared hard at Sandy.
"Please tell me it's not important, Linda. Tell me you're not hiding anything. Tell me you decided to anglicize your name and lie about Georgia just for the hell of it."
"I just told you how strongly I feel about you, Sandy. I thought we were friends. What's with the third degree? You're looking at me suspiciously. What are you accusing me of? You think I'm in some Cuban gang or something? I can't handle all this!" She got up and walked to the window.
Sandy followed her. "I just mentioned Georgia. I didn't say anything about Cubans. Boy, you're really touchy about something. Calm down Linda. You know you did tell me you were from Georgia."
Linda was steamed. Her voice shook, "My father's from Georgia, he's up there now, okay? Mom's Cuban and lives in Tampa. So, I'm half Cuban, okay?" Then angrily, "Does that bother you, Sugar?"
Sandy jerked backward and her mouth dropped open. "Linda! You just spat out 'Sugar' like it was the ugliest word in the world." She put her hands to her face, turned and hurried toward the stairway.
Linda hesitated for only a moment and then ran after her. "I'm sorry!" She caught her at the top of the stairs and turned her around. "I'm sorry, Sandy. We're still getting to know each other." She reached out and took Sandy's hands.
"Be fair, Linda, you put yourself in the middle of all this. I didn't accuse you of anything. We all know Tampa Cuban-Americans are involved in this. Perhaps innocently, yet the questions are there whether we like it or not."
"I know. I'm hyper about it. Let's go back to my desk and talk."
"Half of Florida is Cuban-American. You can't be hypersensitive about that."
"I just thought it would be nice to be a Georgia peach, but that's not going to happen either."
"You're lovely, just the way you are."
"You don't understand. I want to meet someone. Not everyone feels the way you do."
"Tampa has a great history with Cuban-Americans," Sandy said. "You mean you felt prejudice over there?"
"Not until after I came out. In a club one night, someone said to my date, 'Hey, Sister, looks like you're going to get some of that Cube stuff tonight.' They were joking and didn't mean to hurt, yet it was said."
"A crude remark, but I don't see 'Cube' as a slur. Still, I'm from up north and not in your shoes, so possibly it is. You know, sometimes a thoughtless remark is just a thoughtless remark."
"I know, and they didn't say it to be mean. They were just dumb to say it that way. Yet there it was. If you asked me if I was proud to be part Cuban, I'd say sure. But I was a bit different, and I didn't want to be any different. Consequently, I changed the spelling of my name and moved to Park Beach."
"But down here you hear jokes about Georgia rednecks, never any about Cuban-Americans."
"But down here I'm like every other Georgian who's called a redneck, not something different."
"You'll find someone."
"You don't just go into a bar and walk out with Miss America."
"You are special. Your Latin blood gives you an attractive, exotic look. I wish I had your flashing dark eyes."
Sandy could see it now; she had underestimated Linda's loneliness. Here was distress beyond what she had imagined. Linda would be willing to change her name and move a thousand miles, a thousand times, if she thought it would bring her the person she wanted. "Miss Right is out there, Linda, and could show up tomorrow."
"Sure." Linda gave her a tolerant look. "Let's get off it."
"And you made up what you told me about your past, the part about a girlfriend, her boyfriend, a dead dog and a fire?"
"No." She laughed. "That was real, except it happened in Tampa not Georgia. I was a mechanic for Uncle Luis. Who else is going to hire a teenage girl as a mechanic?"
Sandy still wondered about La Familia. "So, the Tampa-Georgia location thing was your only lie to me about your background?"
"Yes, sorry. Remember, I didn't know you back then. You know, you're right Sandy, everyone underestimates you."
Sandy was afraid of setting her off again, yet she had to ask, "Linda, what about La Familia?"
"Everyone knows it means family. What about it?"
That sounded innocent. Anyway, was it crucial? Was it actually important? Maybe she didn't want to hear anything that involved Linda in any plot. Maybe Sandy had enough, she didn't have to solve Towson's murder. She just has to get Raymond out of it and go on living. His transfer to the county jail was about to happen, no point in holding any info back now.
"Linda, I've got a whole lot of things to tell you."
Linda was excited. "I've things to tell you also, better get comfortable."
They huddled over notes for two hours and ordered pizza and Coke for lunch. After an additional hour, Sandy hurried out of the Park Beach newspaper building. She had just enough time to get to the jail before the end of visiting hours.
Sandy was waiting in the visiting room when they brought him in. "Raymond, I've been in a huddle with Linda at the newspaper office. We leveled and told each other all that we knew."
"Why don't you just go back to Philly?"
"Not yet, listen up Raymond. She said the police knew all along that Barner was alive, because he serviced Towson's apartment after you left. They found insecticide on a piece of that cup you broke. That was one day after Loraine said she shot him. So they knew she was lying, not you."
"Slow down, what are you talking about? We knew Barner was an exterminator."
"Yes, but we didn't know he had serviced Towson's apartment the afternoon of the shooting. Someone connected with the investigation told Linda that CSI found a shard from a broken cup on the floor. Out of sight on the kitchen floor, covered with insecticide. Apparently, Barner didn't notice it and sprayed right over it that afternoon. That's the cup you broke when you were there earlier!"
"So what?" Then he caught the significance. "You mean it was on the floor unnoticed all afternoon. That proves Barner was there after me."
"Yes. At that time both Barner and Towson were alive. One reason they denied bail was Moran told the judge you were the last person to see the victim alive. No way they could have been certain about that. They learned that Barner saw him alive much later. And they have no evidence that you went back up there. Bastards should have bonded you out immediately, when they found a major piece of their evidence discredited. By now, they have their lab reports back finding no blood spatter on your clothes, so all of their circumstantial bullshit is falling apart. I haven't been so angry since I dropped my phone in a restaurant toilet."
"I'll ask Kagan. Maybe he can inform the judge about this."
"Ask hell! You don't understand, there's more. I dropped a bombshell. I was so mad I told Linda everything... plus a bunch of speculation. When she told me about Barner and the insecticide, I had a meltdown. The paper has it all now: Loraine, Tammy, Norma and Barner. All the names, the alleged rape, the phony Sonny Barner shooting, everything you said in your statement and anything we discussed since. Essentially, I discussed the contents of that signed statement you gave Moran. That statement was an official document of the prosecution. I could go to jail for disclosing it. Linda called the editor back in from home. They have their heads together right now deciding how much they can print."
"Okay. I'll tell Jerry Kagan. Moran might be willing to talk bail when he learns a big headline is on its way."