Valentine's Day Is Killing Me by Mary Janice Davidson, Susanna Carr, Leslie Esdaile Page A

like a squirrel, there was something so innocent about this chick that was making him process everything she had to say twice. He watched her chest rise and fall in shudders, like that of a frightened bird. Her red silk robe was stained…little mesh slippers scuffed and dirty…pretty feet must be cold, gooseflesh sitting up on her arms.
    Ray nodded to the glass. “I’ll get you another blanket and a cup of coffee—then we can talk, all right? Tell me where you met these people and under what circumstances, and maybe we can shorten your evening in here?”
    She nodded, but didn’t look at him. More tears slipped down her cheeks beneath her forearm.
     
     
     
    It was the most convoluted story he’d ever heard. His partner stood behind the glass, scratching his head.
    “Brother, either this chick is on a bad acid trip, or she’s the most bold-faced liar I have ever seen. How is a gorgeous chick like that gonna make anybody believe she hasn’t had a boyfriend, in what, three years? Nah, wrong answer! Save it for the jury.”
    “I know,” Ray said, studying Jocelyn Jefferson through the glass as she meekly sipped her coffee with a blanket clutched around her. He touched the two-way mirror with one finger. “She doesn’t come up on radar as a working girl, though. That’s the thing. Everything we’ve asked her checks out, down to no driving violations. I see what I see through this glass, know what Murph and the fellas brought in, but this chick’s alibis are airtight. She’s offering everything without a struggle—DNA, urine, fingerprints, birth certificates, phone numbers, addresses to all her hangouts—it’s crazy. She’s even told us to come to her house and dust every surface, to even check out the sheets, and keeps claiming not to know Phat and Smooth. So, either she’s the best liar we’ve run across, or…” He snatched his hand away from the glass and made a fist. “I hate not being a hundred percent in my gut.”
    “I know. We called that professor she said to call, and sure enough, dude was home, he comes up as legit faculty on the university Web site. Chances are, this chick is registered there as a student—easy enough to determine. But it ain’t like we haven’t had grad students that work a neat circuit before.”
    “Yeah, but not like this one,” Ray said, beginning to pace. “Something ain’t right. It sticks in my craw. If what she says happened the way it did, I’d hate to ruin this chick’s life. By the same token, though, she’s fine enough to be Phat’s woman, or a top-rung pick—know what I mean?”
    “I feel you,” Raul said, his eyes never leaving the two-way mirror. “Besides, you think women get all that upset about a stupid holiday? I mean, to…you know…throw a party for their girlfriends, and then other people start filling in the gaps, and whatever? I mean, Ray, man, you see the evidence bags?” Raul shook his head. “Some of that equipment was scary…I mean, size-wise, just saying.”
    Ray smiled. “We talking about the case or the fact that you forgot to buy roses again this year?”
    Raul chuckled. “I’m so far in the doghouse, brother, you might as well throw away my leash. Won’t need it. Tomorrow morning I’ll be at the pound.”
    “You just answered your own question, and maybe a few of mine…but, I just don’t know. Loud music, a joint on the back deck, and some exotic products is no reason to completely ruin a woman’s life. However, I’m not about to let crocodile tears, a long, crazy story, and a pretty face be the reason I missed a key informant or witness.”
    “That ain’t the kinda crap to lose a badge or shield for, man.” Raul pounded Ray’s fist. “Whatchu wanna do? Your call.”
    Ray let his breath out hard, thinking out loud as he spoke. “I’ma call my boy, Marcus. Ask him to do me a favor, since he owes me one, and have him give girlfriend some legal advice, since she’s a most likely broke coed, then let her go