|
|
|
|
|
|
|
wrote down the name. 'How long were you seeing Maxwell?' he asked the girl. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'A couple of weeks,' she said without looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the knee of her jeans, where she was fingering her skin through a ragged slit. There were more gashes higher up. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'She just kept me totally in the dark,' Francine said, taking a pack of cigarettes from her purse. 'If I'd known, I would've put a quick stop to it. You'd better believe it.' She shook out a cigarette. Tapping its filter against the table, she said, 'It's not that I'm a bigot or anything.' |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'Sure you aren't,' Lisa muttered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'That's right, I'm not.' Glaring at the back of her daughter's head, she jabbed the cigarette into a corner of her mouth and fired it with a Bic. 'But I think I've been around awhile longer than you, young lady, and I think I know a few things you don't.' The cigarette jerked up and down as she talked. Lisa kept fiddling with the tear at her knee. 'One thing I know is a girl like you starts going around with a black guy, it means trouble. And I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't I?' |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'I guess,' Lisa murmured. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'You guess. The boy's dead, isn't he?' |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'Think he'd be dead if he didn't start going with you?' |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'Lisa,' Trev said, 'do you know who murdered him?' |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'Tell the man what you told me.' |
|
|
|
|
|