noticed Officer Stone hadn’t written anything. “The one you stepped on.”
He frowned, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if trying to communicate with someone who barely understood English. “I mean … when … did … you … last … see … Ms. Small … alive?”
“About a year ago, I guess. Before she got into drugs. She’s just been going through the motions for quite a while now.”
Stone jammed his pen back into his pocket. “Detective, we’re obviously not going to get anything from this witness.” He dropped his notebook on the dashboard. “I think we should take her in.”
The detective expelled a deep breath, then reached out and pulled his seat belt into place. “Okay, I’ll question her at the station. Wine and dine her on pizza and Pepsi”—he caught Helen’s eye in the mirror and winked again—“and she’ll crack like an egg.”
Watch this guy, Bobby warned. He’s definitely putting the moves on you. He leaned back and propped his legs on the back of the driver’s seat. At least we get to take a road trip.
“Better roll down your window,” Stone suggested. “God knows what she’s got living in her hair.”
The detective gave the man a frown, then glanced over his shoulder. “How you doin’ back there? Remember anything you might want to tell me?”
“I’m not stupid,” Helen answered. “I remember things, but sometimes I don’t remember what I remember.”
Chapter Two
By the time the patrol car pulled into the parking lot of the Clark County Detention Center, Helen was almost crazy from itches hopping around her body. She rubbed her cheek across the headrest as Stone turned into the sally port and stopped next to a gray door. “I’m gonna have to sanitize this whole goddamned car.” He still sounded cranky. Perhaps, Helen thought, he needed to sit quietly and think about his day.
Detective Madison came around to unbuckle Helen’s seat belt and remove the cuffs, before guiding her into a room marked PROCESSING, a government-gray cave tiled with industrial-grade linoleum. The room reverberated with noise: phones beeping, footsteps rushing, and doors crashing. People hurried past, men explaining, women whining, and an unhappy child wailing. The detective took Helen’s hand, placed it on his arm, and escorted her to a gray Formica table, its surface scratched and inked with names and graffiti. Helen examined the scrawls. No message there.
A woman wearing a khaki uniform and Rockport shoes stepped forward. “Oh boy.” She scrutinized Helen for a moment, then her voice softened to a tone of jaded amusement. “Where did you find this one?”
“This is Helen Taylor,” Madison answered. “She’s a possible witness in the dismemberment case, and we’re having a problem getting a coherent statement.” He gave Helen’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Helen, this is Officer Maria Fine.”
Officer Maria pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.”
“Why?” Helen asked, not wanting to commit herself to a chair in this unfamiliar place. She examined the table, which held a computer, a slightly darker shade of gray than the surroundings.
“Officer Fine needs to get your personal information,” Madison explained. “For our files.” He glanced at his watch, a water-resistant Timex Indiglo that went for no more than fifteen dollars at the swap meet. “I need to start the paperwork. You know how fritzy the lieutenant gets if every ‘I’ isn’t dotted.”
“I’ll process her as a material witness,” Officer Maria said, gesturing toward the chair. “Make yourself comfortable, Helen.”
Detective Madison gave Helen’s shoulder a pat, then was gone. Officer Maria offered a professional smile. “What’s your full name?”
Bobby sauntered around behind the desk. And how does that differ from your empty name?
Helen suppressed a laugh. “Helen Eileen Taylor.”
“Date of birth?”
“August 11, 1965.”
“Address?”
Bobby leaned over the woman’s shoulder, reading the screen. What’s this? Their personal version of Trivial Pursuit?
“5573 Tsunami Avenue,” Helen answered. The streets in her neighborhood were all named after natural disasters, events that seldom took place in that part of town. Hurricane and Tornado were the cross streets. Why they weren’t called Tow-Away and Drive-By she couldn’t imagine.
“Occupation?”
“Vendor.”
“Business address?”
“Broadacres outdoor swap meet.”
“Education?”
“Yes.”
Officer Maria sent an admonishing look back across the table. “I meant what level of education. Did you graduate high school?”
Bobby hopped onto the table and crossed his legs, assuming a haughty pose. Graduate! We taught high school.
“My husband and I taught at Western High.”
Officer Maria nodded. “So you graduated from college?”
“I have an Ed. E in educational psychology from Berkeley.”
“An Eddy? What’s that?”
“A doctorate in education.” Helen traced the initials on the table with her index finger. “An Ed E”
The questions kept coming and Helen answered them to the best of her ability, but she could feel time slipping away. The gates to the swap meet opened at seven o’clock sharp every Saturday morning, and at the rate the interview was proceeding she wouldn’t have enough time to pack her truck. “I need to go home.” She shot a pleading glance at the officer, hoping for an understanding nod. “I have to load my truck.”
Officer Maria flicked her eyes away from the screen for a moment. “We’ll see.” She spoke as if she were the mother and Helen the child. “Detective Madison still has a few questions. Lucky for us we have your finger prints from your background check when you were teaching.” the officer explained. She turned toward Helen. “Please take off your shoes.”
“My shoes?”
“We don’t allow laces or sharp objects in the waiting area.”
Helen hesitated.
Might as well go along, Bobby said. She seems determined.
Since Bobby had no problem with it, Helen decided to humor the woman. As the officer held out a plastic bag, Helen pried off her high-tops, a fabulous find from a dumpster behind Smith’s grocery. Booth value, five dollars; cost, nothing. The woman dropped the shoes in the bag, printed out a label, slapped it onto the plastic, and dropped the bag into a wire basket behind her chair. Then, taking Helen’s arm, she led the way down a hallway to a caged room. Inside, three women sat hunched forward
