Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

“She don’t have no boyfriend I know about.”

“Do you remember if Greg stayed at the party the entire time you were there?”

“Yeah.” She looked unsure for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

Maybe it was true. Maybe she was lying to protect Beaufort. If only we all had foolproof bullshit meters.

“Rochelle, you and Tina and the others got a ride that night. I understand you left the party a little before nine. Is that so?”

Rochelle nodded.

“If the driver could tell the police what time you were picked up, it would provide Tina with an alibi.”

“She can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She don’t have no license. Jus’ a car she borrowed.”

Borrowed or stole, I thought. Scratch another alibi.

“In that case, Greg or someone else who was present will have to make a statement about the time you left Greg’s place. I assume you were at Greg’s.”

“Yep.”

“Whoever gives that statement will have to tell the cops all the details. That means, even if I didn’t tell them, everything would still come out.”

“Anyone can make a statement. They don’t have to say what we was doin’.”

“Rochelle, the DVD is evidence in another case. Apart from what these men did to you, I have to give it to the cops.”

Rochelle gave me a blank stare. “DVD? Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout?”

“Greg didn’t tell you?” I paused to gather my thoughts. She looked at me like I was speaking Sanskrit. “Those parties were recorded. That’s how I learned about this. And the recording provides airtight evidence that Tina was someplace other than at home, at least part of the night her mother was murdered. Getting someone to say exactly when she left is crucial.”

Rochelle’s eyes narrowed. A collective murmur rose from the gang.

“How much are they paying you to do it? The parties?” I asked.

Rochelle snapped the razor shut and slipped it into her bra. She turned to address her posse. “Y’all can go, okay.” They dispersed. When they were outside of earshot, she spoke. “We need to talk bid’ness.”

We both fell silent. The Branch Avenue traffic was a distant hum.

Rochelle fixed me in her gaze. “A hundred dollah a session. For me. The others get fitty. Way I see it, I set ’dis thing up, I should get more o’ the cheese.”

I shook my head. “Someone is paying thousands of dollars for these. They’re doing something with those images, and they’ll probably make much more than they’re spending. And they’re paying you shit.” I paused for effect. “You’re the talent. And they’re screwing you in more ways than one.”

Rochelle may not have giv

en a rat’s ass about statutory rape or child porn, but she sure understood money. She scowled, her eyes reduced to lizard-like slits. “Mutherfuckers. I din’t know they was takin’ pitchers.”

* * * * *

I got Rochelle’s cell number and said I’d call her as soon as I was ready to go to the cops. Without pressure from me, she told me she’d heard from Tina but hadn’t seen her since before her arrest. I told her she had to let me know if she heard from Tina. If we all went to the cops together, I hoped we could straighten things out.

I dismissed the thought of stopping at Russell’s to see what was in the FedEx package before going to the police. I was too anxious to get the DVD into police hands, so I went straight to CID and asked for Detective Willard. A uniformed officer escorted me to Willard’s desk.

“I wanted to give this to you,” I said, handing him the disc. “I believe it’s behind Sondra Jones’s murder.” I told him all about the DVD and the game developers who’d bought it from Narsh. I ran through my theory about the two of them stealing from Kozmik by hacking into the computer system to create the phony vendor account. I filled him in on my surprise visit from Diesel plus my hunch that Cooper had been involved and had been silenced permanently because he knew too much. I told him that evidence I expected to receive later in the day might support the scenario.