T is for Trespass (Kinsey Millhone 20)

I smiled politely. “What kind of car do you drive?”

“Nineteen seventy-six Ford van. Dark green in case you mean to ask that next.”

“Thank you,” I said, and made a note. “Let’s go back to the accident. Would you tell me what happened?”

“Be happy to, though it was a terrible, terrible thing for me as you might imagine.” She narrowed her eyes and tapped a finger against her lips, looking into the middle distance as though reciting a poem. By the time she was halfway through the second sentence, it was clear she’d told the story so often that the details wouldn’t vary. “Millard and me were driving along Palisade Drive up by the City College. This was Thursday of Memorial Day weekend. What is that, six or eight months back?”

“About that. What time of day was this?”

“Middle of the afternoon.”

“What about weather conditions?”

She frowned slightly, forced to think about her answer instead of offering up her usual rote response. “Fine as near as I remember. We’d had rains off and on all last spring, but a dry spell come along and the papers was saying the weekend would be nice.”

“And which direction were you heading?”

“Toward downtown. He couldn’t have been driving more than five or six miles an hour. Might have been a bit more, but it was way under the posted limit. I’m positive about that.”

“And that’s twenty-five miles an hour?”

“Something along those lines.”

“Can you remember how far away Ms. Ray’s vehicle was when you first noticed it?”

“I remember she was over to my right in that entrance to the parking lot up at the City College. Millard was just about passing when she come flying out in front of me. Boom! He slammed on the brakes, but not near quick enough. I was never so surprised in my life and that’s the truth!”

“Was her left turn signal blinking?”

“I don’t believe it was. I’m sure not.”

“What about your turn signal?”

“No, ma’am. He didn’t intend to turn. We were fixing to continue on down the hill to Castle.”

“I believe there was some question about your seat belt?”

She shook her head emphatically. “I never ride in a car without a seat belt. It might’ve come loose on impact, but I was wearing one for sure.”

I took a moment to review my notes, wondering if there was any way to throw her off her stride. The well-rehearsed data was getting old. “Where were you going?”

That stumped her. She blinked and said, “Where?”

“I’m wondering where the two of you were going when the accident occurred. I’m filling in the blanks.” I held up my clipboard as though that explained everything.

“I forget.”

“You don’t remember where you were going?”

“I just said that. You told me to say so if I couldn’t remember and I can’t.”

“Fine. That’s exactly right.” I stared at my clipboard and made a mark. “If it would help refresh your memory, could you have been heading for the freeway? From Castle, you can take the north-or southbound on-ramps.”

Gladys shook her head. “Ever since the accident my memory’s shot.”

“Were you running errands? Grocery shopping? Something for dinner perhaps?”

“Must have been errands. I’d say errands. You know, I might have amnesia. Doctor says it’s not uncommon in accidents of this type. I can’t hardly concentrate. That’s why I can’t work. I can’t sit and I can’t think. Work I do, that’s all it is, except for add and subtract and stamping envelopes.”

I looked down at my notes. “You mentioned a concussion.”

“Oh, I banged my head good.”

“On what?”

“Windshield, I guess. Might have been the windshield. I still got me a knot,” she said, placing a hand briefly on the side of her head.

I placed my hand on the left side of my head as she had. “On the left side up here or in back?”

“Both. I got bumped ever which way. Here, feel this.”

I reached forward. She clasped my hand and pressed it against a hard knot about the size of a fist. “My goodness.”

“You better make a note of it,” she said, pointing at my clipboard.

“Absolutely,” I said, scribbling on the page. “What happened after that?”

“Millard was shook up as you might well imagine. He soon discerned he wasn’t hurt, but he could see I was out like a light, knocked completely unconscious. As soon as I regained my senses, he helped me out of the van. Wasn’t easy for him since he had to get situated in his chair and lever himself down to the pavement. I couldn’t hardly tell where I was at. I was all dizzy and discombobulated and shaking like a leaf.”