Ear-Witness (18 page)

We were waiting behind a pillar, exactly where Dad said we should be, by five to eight. He arrived at eight-twenty. He wasn't wearing his ordinary clothes either, at least not his lawyer clothes, which were all I'd seen him in for as long as I could remember. His
jeans looked clean but old, his runners were that dingy grey colour white turns into, and his jean jacket had a torn cuff. He grinned when he saw me staring. “The real me,” he said. Then he turned to Jon. “You must be Jess's friend. I'm Gordon March.”

Jon, who had already jumped to his feet, introduced himself. Dad motioned him down again, then crouched in front of us. “Any sign of them?” he said.

I shook my head.

“What worries me is that our suspects will take one look at us and make a run for it. And then we're left with nothing. Nothing but Raffi in jail and a whole lot of egg on our faces.”

There was something else to worry about too, but I didn't like to mention it. I was worried about being wrong. What if the man I'd heard on the phone wasn't Ray at all? I'd been pretty sure of myself at home. You could even say I was very sure of myself. Now that the cops were involved and they were depending on me being right, I wasn't sure about anything.

Dad looked at his watch. “Here's the plan,” he said. “Two uniformed police officers are waiting in the first class lounge, which is just off the area by the gates. One of them is Sheena Bowes. She can identify Tammi Bird, so she'll already be watching her and anyone else with her. Does that sound OK so far?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.

“There are also two plainclothes cops somewhere in the vicinity. I'm not sure exactly where, but they know me, and they'll be following us or watching us the whole time. What we're going to do, the three of us, is walk past the people waiting to board the Chicago train. When we come to Mrs. Bird, and hopefully we will, I want you, Jess, to nudge me with your elbow, because otherwise I won't know we're close. OK?”

“Sure,” I said.

“What you have to do then is get a good look at the guy with her. Good enough to identify him. You also have to let me know he's the right person, so I can then signal the cops. They won't move until I do that.”

“I should say his name, or something?”

“His name would be great.”

“What happens then?” Jon said.

“The cops will arrest him.” Dad looked at his watch again. “Time to go. People will be boarding the train soon,” he said. “We want to catch them before that.”

“What if...?” I said.

Dad raised his eyebrows. “What if what?” he said.

“What if I can't identify him?”

“We all go home,” he said. “And some of us feel stupider than others. Don't worry about it.”

“Sure,” I said. Then I stood, and winced.

“What's the matter?” Dad said. “Nerves?”

“A blister. It's nothing.” Two lies, one after the other. My nerves were dancing, and the blister was agony. I shifted the toilet paper around in my shoe, but it didn't help. Dad looking at his watch again didn't help either. My whole leg felt like it was seeping out that one burning little hole, but I did what I had to do. I told myself how tough I was, and ignored it.

Dad took my arm on one side, and Jon walked beside me on the other, sort of brushing his hand against mine, like he was reminding me he was there. We passed through the main lobby where people get their tickets, and went down the ramp into the huge hall where they line up to board.

The departure gate for the Chicago train was at the far end, a city block away, a long block. The line-up straggled for half that distance. Suitcases and backpacks littered the floor on either side of it. The people were a real mixture; old people, middle-aged people, students. Some were really dressed up, others totally casual. Most of them were standing. A few sat on their luggage. One guy was reading a book, with one foot resting on his briefcase. There were kids all over the place. Kids in baby carriers, kids in strollers, kids pulling at their parents and squirming, kids whining. Everybody was waiting, and everybody was facing away from us.

As we reached the end of the line-up, I noticed that people were still joining it. I turned to Dad. “What if they come behind us?”

“When we get to the front we'll turn around and walk back,” he said. “It would be best if you just looked for them, Jess. Fretting won't help.” He sounded grumpy. He probably thought I was going to mess up and embarrass him.

Fretting might not help, but I was doing it anyway, because I didn't know which Tammi to look for. Would she be the old Tammi with the miniskirt and hair all over the place, or the new Tammi with the widow clothes and hair like Mom's? Every time I saw somebody the right size, who had a baby, I had to look at her really carefully.

Lots of women have that hair-all-over-the-place look. A couple even had dark roots and orange ends, just like Tammi. The first woman I picked out was too short; the second was pregnant.

As we got closer and closer to the front of the line, I started to panic. I had to find them. If I didn't, Raffi was going to stay in jail, my father was going to be embarrassed, Sheena was going to think I was playing games again, and my left foot was going to be mutilated for nothing.

I knew her immediately, even from behind. Part of her hair was pulled back with a big pink barrette, but the rest hung loose. She was wearing her purple miniskirt, a tight purple ribbed sweater, and high heels. Brianna, all in pink, was sleeping in the stroller. There was a man standing beside them. A tall, large man. I jerked my elbow into Dad.

The man was wearing a peaked baseball cap, and sunglasses. His hair was dark brown, not red, and for one awful minute I was convinced I'd been wrong. Then I moved up beside Tammi, and looked past her, right into Ray's face. “Hi,” I said.

“Jess!” My name hissed out from between his teeth, just like it did that night in Brianna's room. I'd surprised him again. This time he wasn't laughing.

I knew the police were there, and my father was there, and Jon too, but I never felt so alone in all my life. My voice shook a little, but it was good and loud. “This man is Ray Bird,” I said. “His hair is brown now, but that's just dye.”

Dad's arm shot up into the air, like he was putting his hand up in school. At the same time, he was pushing me behind him. Then Sheena was there, and some other cops I didn't know, and Ray was running, running like a wild man towards the gate and the stairs to the train platform. The chain to keep the passengers back didn't stop him at all. He vaulted over it and passed the guard, who stepped backwards and flattened himself against the wall to get out of the way. All around me people were grabbing their kids and diving for cover. Sheena moved like the wind. When Ray was halfway up the stairs she was right there, at the bottom.

“Stop or I'll shoot,” she yelled. Then she braced her feet and pointed her gun.

Ray kept going. When the single shot rang out, he staggered to the side of the stairs, balanced himself with one hand on the wall and raised the other above his head. A dark red stain seeped through his jeans, high on the outside of his thigh.

“She shot him!” Jon said. “He's bleeding! She didn't have to do that!”

“Yes, she did,” I snapped. “She had to stop him.”

Dad gave us both a hug. “Let's be calm here,” he said. “It doesn't appear to be too serious, since he's still standing. It's probably just a flesh wound. Sensitive place, though,” he added.

“A bummer,” I said. “Has anybody seen Tammi?”

The pay phone I was using was on the lower level of the station. I stood on one leg in front of it, pushing the buttons for Mom's work number, and admiring the mess that was my left heel. I'd called her from home, to tell her where I was going and what I was trying to do, but that was hours ago. By now she'd be having a haemorrhage.

She must have been sitting on the phone. “What happened?” she said.

“It
was
Ray. And they caught him.”

“So he did it? He killed that other guy?” Then she started to cry. “And Raffi..., Raffi had nothing to do with it?”

“Raffi's innocent, Mom. The cops will have to let him go now, because the man he was supposed to have killed isn't dead — he's alive and
he's
the murderer. Anyhow all the evidence against Raffi was garbage. That's what Dad said.”

“When? When can he come home? He doesn't even know all this has happened! He still thinks he's the major suspect! He's so depressed...”

“Tomorrow, probably. Dad said something about paperwork and the Crown Attorney and a judge. He told Sheena that Raffi shouldn't ever have been arrested because, get this, a kid could figure out what happened.” I laughed. “So he thinks she'll hurry things up. Anyhow, he's going to see Raffi tonight, to tell him the good news.”

Mom didn't say anything for a bit, but I could almost hear her thinking. “You did it, Jess. Didn't you? Ray would have got away if it wasn't for you.”

“I guess,” I said. “And Dad.”

“Tell him thanks,” she said. “From me.”

“Mom says thanks,” I said. “She was really happy.”

“Nice to have something work out so well,” Dad said. He and Jon and I were sitting in the back part of the Station Restaurant, shoving the food in like we hadn't eaten in a week. Burgers, fries, rings and shakes. A fat fix.

“I've asked Sheena to join us,” Dad said. “We need to clear up some details.”

There were a lot of cops around now. Two of them even checked out the restaurant while we were sitting there. They were looking for Tammi, asking every woman with a baby to show identification.

I watched them. “They're not going to find her,” I said.

Dad reached across me for the vinegar. “It would be good if they do. That was quite a story she told, pretending the dead man, Al Green, was her husband.”

“You think she could go to jail for that?” Jon said.

Dad moved his hand palm up, palm down a couple of times. “If they don't find her, she'll be a running for the rest of her life, waiting to be arrested. If they find her now, everything will be dealt with, and it will be all over. She'd probably just get a slap on the wrist.”

“Why?” Jon said. “She caused a heap of trouble.”

Dad finished his fries and started stealing mine. “Ah, her husband made her do it,” he said. “That's pretty obvious from what Jess said. Remember, Jess? You said Tammi cried for hours the night of the murder.”

“I thought she cried because Ray was dead, but I guess not,” I said. “You think he made her do that? Say the body was him?”

“Don't you?” Dad asked.

Sheena set her tray in the empty space beside Jon, and sat down. “It really busts me up to have to shoot somebody. And the more bust up I get, the hungrier I am,” she said. Her tray was loaded.

“Good shot,” Dad said.

“Yeah, it was, wasn't it?” She unwrapped her first hamburger, lifted the top piece of bun, and held it in the air. “Tricky when he was hoofing it up the stairs like that.” She winked. “Gave him a little something to remember me by, didn't I? A little dimple in his right cheek. Can somebody pass the ketchup?”

“No sign of Mrs. Bird?” Dad asked.

Sheena's hamburger hovered near her mouth. “She must have cut out during all the excitement. We shoulda had somebody watching
her, but to tell the truth...” She looked at me, and shook her head. “We thought Jess was just being creative again.”

Dad looked puzzled. “Again?”

“It's a long story,” I said.

Sheena's mouth was full, so we watched her until she finished chewing. “You did good work, Jess. What really burns me is that none of us clued in about the corpse not being Bird.”

Dad offered me the last of my fries. I took it. “Everybody makes mistakes,” he said.

“Shouldn't have happened.” Sheena shook her head in disgust. “Sure we had the grieving widow, but when we printed the body and found out he was really Al Green, we should of figured it out.”

“Any idea what the connection was between Bird and this Green fellow?” Dad said.

“Well, Green robbed a bank, we know that. We also know he had a partner who never got caught, a partner who took off with the money. Green got a jail term, and I guess Bird, the partner, got the loot. That's the way I figure it anyway,” Sheena said.

“So when Green was released, he came looking for his old buddy,” Dad said. “I guess it wasn't a terrific reunion.”

“I've got a question,” Jon said. “What's going to happen to Ronny Roach?”

“What do you mean?” Sheena said. “Why should something happen to him? You think he got a little creative too?”

I sighed. I just wanted the Roach to go away. Far away.

“Don't tell me we messed that up too,” she said.