Stephanie nodded.
"Just to be certain," he said, "you are Stephanie Eastman?"
She nodded her head again and her hair barely moved.
"Can you tell me when the last time was that you saw Gregg?"
"On Tuesday night. Am I in trouble?"
"Not unless you killed him," said Roberts.
Stephanie choked and shook her head.
"God no, I loved him."
Then she took to crying again and we all waited until she had composed herself.
"I know this is difficult," said Roberts. "But you might be able to help us determine who killed him. That's why we need to ask you some questions, okay?"
He picked up the box of tissues and offered it to her. She pulled out two of them, and gave him a limp smile. She nodded her head again.
"I want to help," she said.
"That's good," said Roberts. "Where did you see Gregg on Tuesday night and what time was it?"
"I saw him in my room. He came to visit me to tell me that everything was going to be alright. It was around ten when he came by."
"What did he mean by everything was going to be alright?"
"Well, about a week before he seemed distant and upset. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he wasn't sure he could be with me. He said he felt bad about leaving all his friends behind while he went on to have a better chance. I think he felt guilty, and I also think he hadn't gotten over Zaira."
"So you know about her?"
"Yes, but I've never met her. Gregg was pretty careful about keeping his two worlds separate."
"Carry on," said Roberts, nodding at her encouragingly.
"Well, he said he needed a break from us. I was devastated."
"When was this?"
"The weekend before this one just gone."
"Go on."
"So for about that next week I didn't see him. We don't have the same classes or anything. But then on Saturday I found out I was pregnant. I told him on Sunday, and he seemed pleased. But he said he had to sort a couple of things out first. I didn't see him until Tuesday night like I said."
"And what happened?"
"He said everything was going to be alright. He said me getting pregnant had helped him understand what he really wanted. And he wanted a family with me. He wanted to tell his mother she was going to be a grandmother. I asked him about Zaira, and he said that she'd have to understand. His past was behind him now and he needed to take care of the future with us."
"You and your baby?"
She nodded.
"I'd never seen him so happy," she said. "But he said there was just one thing left he had to take care of. He said he had to see this guy about something first."
"What did he mean by that?" asked Roberts.
"I don't know. But he left me just before midnight. He told me not to worry, that after he'd finished this last thing we could just focus on our future together. He said he was going to get a job and take care of me and the baby."
"Did he tell you where he was going?"
"He said he was meeting this guy at the pier. I told him the pier was closed, but he said it would be alright."
"And he didn't tell you anything about who he was meeting or why he was meeting this guy."
"No. I pressed him for information but all he said is it had to do with his past, and that this was the last loose end. He told me not to worry about it... God, do you think that might have been who killed him?" she sobbed.
"We don't know at the moment," said Roberts. "We're still trying to run down all the leads we have."
"Maybe if I'd just been more determined not to let him go, he'd still be alive," she said, sobbing into her tissue.
"I wouldn't blame yourself," said Roberts. "It's not your fault."
"No, it isn't Steph. You can't beat yourself up about it," said Vanessa.
I just sat there like a mute at a Dale Carnegie conference. Friendless and without influence.
"I miss him," said Stephanie, "and now I have his baby and she'll never know her father."
"She?" asked Roberts.
"Gregg wanted a girl, but of course it's too early to tell the sex."
Stephanie put on a brave face that kept slipping off like molten wax.
"I have to ask a very difficult question," said Roberts, "of both of you."
He looked from Stephanie to Vanessa. Vanessa frowned at him and Stephanie looked startled.
"Did either of you know that Gregg had cheated on his SATs and his grade twelve finals?"
"No, he didn't. That can't be," said Stephanie. "He worked so hard."
"That can't be right," said Vanessa.
"We have heard that Gregg owed ten grand to a guy who got him the answers to the grade twelve finals and had someone take his SATs for him," said Roberts.
"That's impossible," said Vanessa.
"Not impossible, just not something we'd usually consider. But desperation will drive some to all sorts of nefarious lengths."
"Really?" asked Vanessa.
Behind her professional veneer the wallpaper was peeling showing the mold underneath.
"We haven't had it confirmed yet, but we'll be speaking with the alleged contributor to this problem later. Looking past your feelings for Gregg, can you see how this might be even remotely possible?" asked Roberts.
Vanessa put her index finger to her lip and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.
"Yes, I suppose it could be possible," she said.
"Right," said Roberts, "because he was struggling all through grade eleven and grade twelve. Then suddenly with his finals he manages to squeak in with a B-, and his SAT scores are really more like a high B or even A student's scores, wouldn't you say?'
"Yes, that's right. I'd hate to believe it though. He was such a good kid really. I really thought he was going to be one of the true turnaround stories of this pilot project. A beacon of hope for others so that we might expand it. You have to understand, Captain, I really thought ever since he found out about his mother's cancer that he had changed and started taking his studies seriously. I still think he might have made us proud, if he'd had a chance to get started this term."
"I understand how you feel," I said, trying to add something to this three sided conversation. "It doesn't sound like he was maliciously trying to fool you or the university. Perhaps he would have managed better in the university setting. Many kids if they find a way in often perform better than their grades in high school might have suggested they would."
"You're quite right, Mr. Carrick. As a counselor here I've often seen that. Not all the time but often enough that it keeps you encouraged and motivated to help the later bloomers as we call them."
Roberts looked over at Stephanie who had managed to take control of her emotions.
"I have to ask you this," said Robert, "but what did you do after Gregg left?"
"If you're asking if I have an alibi, I don't. I went to bed. Happily too, I might add. I really believed that things were turning for the better for us when he left, after the conversation we had had."
"Do you live in shared accommodation or do you have a private room?"
"I have a private room."
Roberts nodded. He fished into his pant's pocket and pulled out a couple of business cards. He handed one to Stephanie and one to Vanessa.
"I don't think I have any more questions at the moment."
He paused for a few seconds and looked from one to the other.
"Is there anything you'd like to add?"
He waited. Stephanie shook her head.
"I don't think so, Captain," said Vanessa, "this has come as quite an awful shock. Very unexpected. I hope you'll get justice for Gregg. He was a good man."
Roberts nodded and stood up. I stood up with him.
"That is my goal," he said.
Vanessa stood up and turned to Stephanie.
"I'll just show them out and then I'll be right back."
Stephanie nodded.
"I'm sorry for your lo
ss," said Roberts, looking Stephanie in the eye for a couple of seconds. He was good at that sort of thing.
Then he turned around and we followed Vanessa out.
"Please keep me posted," she said as we shook hands goodbye.
When we got to the car John asked me where I wanted to go.
"Some place where the servers are buxom and the steaks are thick. I'm starving," I said.
"I think I'll join you," he said. "I know just the place."
Washed Up: Chapter Six
Roberts had dropped me off at around two thirty in the afternoon. I had enjoyed two beers at the restaurant he'd taken me too. One for me and one for him that I had to enjoy because he was on duty. He hadn't lied to me. The steaks were as thick as my wrist and women were buxom. It was a place called Carl's Ranch in Playa del Rey.
I'd spent the afternoon in my stuffy apartment with Pirate purring on my lap and me nodding off intermittently watching steroid junkies getting paid way too much to throw a ball around and hit it with a piece of dead wood.
The call came in during the ninth inning and I was glad for it. Other than baseball my best bet was an afternoon talk show. I figured it was a toss-up between a kick in the nuts or a kick in the ass. Though the more I thought about it the more I decided I was going to head down the beach and sketch half-naked women. But then Johnny called.
He told me that Schaal and Campos had picked up Dennis Evans, the guardian angel to helpless students. If they have the cheddar. Roberts said they were bringing him in but that he wasn't in a good mood. Schaal had tasered him for disregarding her instructions. I smiled at that. I figured that Schaal would have used the smallest opportunity to use force even when unnecessary. I'd worked with cops like her before. Always looking to escalate rather than deescalate a situation.
I got into my car and drove downtown to headquarters. It was always a hassle to visit there, but I put up with it considering LAPD was paying me two fifty a day to help out. I got my visitor's pass and clearance to head up to homicide.
When I got there, Roberts was waiting in his office. I walked in like I owned the place. I had once.
"What are you grinning you at?" he asked me, looking up to see the big smile on my face.
"I'm thinking Schaal is going to cause you problems in the future," I said.
"How so."
"I reckon she's got a hair trigger. Am I right?"
Roberts nodded slowly.
"That's one of the reasons she's in homicide. The less she has to do with the general public the less reprimands she gets."
"So that's how this place is run nowadays. Problems are promoted. It's the Peter Principle at work."
Roberts shook his head at me.
"No, that's not how it works. But she's a good detective, she's put in over twenty years with the department. She earned her promotion."
I nodded.
"Keep telling yourself that, until she gets your ass hauled upstairs to the Chief's office."
"Oh, ye of little faith. That's already happened twice. Once more and she's on riding desk."
We both laughed.
"Today might be your lucky day then," I said. "By the way where is the man who offers a helping hand to wayward students."
"He's just getting checked out by the medic. He should be back here any minute where you and I can play good cop with him."
"You mean good cop bad cop?"
"No, I mean good cop good cop. Schaal's done enough bad cop for the both of us."
I smiled and nodded at him and took a seat across from his desk.
"Do you have any further info from the good proctologist?" I asked.
"You mean the coroner. Yes. He puts TOD at between midnight and two a.m. Says he bled out quite quickly. One of the kidneys was nicked by the knife."
"What kind of a knife?"
"Your standard folding pocket knife with about a three and a half inch blade. Plain blade, not serrated."
Roberts looked up through the windowed partitions of his office. He nodded out towards the hallway.
"They're bringing him in now," he said.
I got up and turned around. Schaal and Campos were guiding a big black man into the interview room.
"Let's solve a murder," said Roberts.
"Always the optimist," I said.
I followed Roberts into the interview room. Just as we got there Schaal and Campos came out.
"Everything good?" Roberts asked.
Schaal nodded. Campos smiled.
"He didn't go down too quick," he said. "Schaal had to squeeze on the juice."
"I'm not gonna hear about this, am I?" Roberts asked looking at Schaal.
"No Captain, it was a good use of force," she said.
"Is that so?"
Roberts looked at Campos and he shrugged and tossed his head to the side.
"I didn't really see what happened," he said. "We had split up."
"And that's what you're gonna tell IA?"
"It was good, Captain. Besides, he ain't gonna complain, we have an understanding."
"Good."
Inside the interview room Dennis Evans was seated away from the door behind a metal table that was bolted to the floor. He was wearing a pair of silver handcuffs in front of him and his hands were in his lap.
It looked to me like he spent too much time in the gym with juice. He was well muscled under the black wife beater. On his head he wore a black bandana with white skull and crossbones. He had a well groomed goatee and a diamond in each ear. He wore camo-colored cargo shorts and hiking boots.
He looked up at us sideways with a smirk.
"That bitch is off the chain, man. I wanna make a citizens' complaint about excessive force."
"Is that right?" asked Roberts.
"Damn right."
"Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the table to be asking questions," said Roberts. Roberts opened up a folder that he had brought in. "It says here you were threatening officers Schaal and Campos with a knife when they came to pick you up."
"Man, that's bullshit. It ain't like that. I was eating an apple that I had cut up. The knife was on the table by the plate. I stood up and that bitch just goes zapping me with the taser. Doesn't even give me a warning."
"They also found an ounce of marijuana on you too."
"Nah man, that wasn't on me, it was on the table by my apple."
"You had the munchies," I said, smiling.
He looked at me, frowning.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Listen, Dennis. You've been quite the player. It says here you've been picked up on drug charges before, and carrying a concealed weapon. The last thing you need is another drug bust. You'll do some good time."
Dennis pushed his hands out towards us tied together with the handcuffs.
"Come on man, don't be like that. I ain't mad about the taser."
"The taser and the weed are the least of your problems," said Roberts.
Dennis frowned his eyes at us.
"What's all this about then if it ain't about the weed?"
"It's about Gregg Gelvan," said Roberts.
"Gregg who?"
Dennis leaned back in his chair and pushed his lips out at us.
"I don't know Gregg Melvin," he said.
"Now's not the time to start lying to the police, Dennis," said Roberts. "If you don't start talking some sense to me and real quick, I'm just gonna book you for murder."
Dennis' demeanor changed real quick then. He put his hands up in front of his face as if we'd just thrown him a fastball.
"Hang on now, I didn't kill nobody, and I especially didn't kill Gregg. Man, why didn't you say that?"
"Say what?"
"That Gregg was murdered, that sort of shook my memory awake."
"Right. Start talking, Dennis, real fast."
"Yeah alright, I knew Gregg. We had some business together. You know how it is, two kids from the block."
Roberts closed his folder and stood up.
"I'm done, let's just book him. He's good for it."
"Wait, alright, alright, I'll tell you about Gregg," said Dennis, flapping his hands towards us like he was offering birds of peace. Roberts sat back down.
"I know what your business was, and where you met him. This is your last chance, Dennis, to come clean. He was into you for a ten spot wasn't he?" asked Roberts.
"Nah, he wasn't like that. Gregg was my boy. Yeah, I did some work for him that cost ten Gs. But he'd paid me two already."
"What kind of work did you do?"
"Man, why you gonna be like that. This is off the record right?"
"Nothing's off the record until I say it is. I need to hear your story and I want to hear it now."
"Alright, man. That's harsh. Here's the deal. Gregg wanted to get himself into UCLA so I helped him out with that."
"How?"
"I got him the test results for his grade twelve finals. And then I had a guy take the SATs for him."
"Ten grand seems cheap for all that help," said Roberts.
Dennis nodded and smiled like he was proud to have offered such a deal.
"Gregg was my boy. We went to Locke together. His mother was always good to me, I figured I'd take care of him."
"So you're Mother Teresa," I said.
"Nah man, I ain't saying I didn't make a profit."
"Let's get to the next part where you tell me why you killed him at the pier," said Roberts.
"Man, that's cold. I didn't kill my boy Gregg. I just told you we were friends. But you're right, he was behind with his payments. I was supposed to be paid up by the time UCLA started. So he wanted to meet me at the pier on Tuesday night."
"And did you?"
"Yeah, we met. He told me he was really sorry, he said he was looking for work. He told me he'd get me the money with extra. He said he was gonna give me ten when he only owed me eight. Listen, I was cool with that. I was happy for him. One of us from Green Meadows was gonna make something of himself. Besides, Gregg had never broken his word. Never. One time we were out joyriding and he took the heat for that one, when it was really me. That's the kind of guy he was."
"What else did you talk about?" I asked.
"He told me he was gonna be a dad. Said he'd met a girl when he'd been shown around the campus in the summer. Said he'd been all confused until he found out she was pregnant. He said it had helped him make sense of everything. He was gonna step up to the plate and do the right thing, and the thing is, he was excited about it. He was looking forward to it."
Four Ways To Midnight (An Anthony Carrick Short Story Collection Book 1) Page 16
