by Helen Cox
‘Wait, you actually saw the murder carried out?’ said Jimmy, his eyes moving from side to side as he tried to fit this piece of information into the jigsaw of what else he knew about me.
‘Yeah, the night before Christmas Eve.’
‘That’s awful, but, if you had nothing to do with it, wouldn’t it have been better to report it to the police than to run away?’ asked Esther. She had the most peculiar expression on her face, a sort of half-frown teamed with wide, searching eyes. Though I couldn’t figure why, she looked almost guilty.
‘I did try,’ I said, pushing my fingers through the front of my hair. ‘But Frankie was the one who committed the murder and the cop I tried to report him to was being paid off, by Frankie.’
‘Frankie? Frankie shot someone?’ Esther’s eyes widened further.
‘Who’s Frankie?’ asked Jimmy, and not for the first time since we’d met.
‘Frankie Ray,’ Esther started to explain. ‘He’s the owner of the Crystal Coast Casino in Atlantic City. It’s where me and Bonnie met, we both worked there.’
‘And you actually saw this guy shoot someone?’ asked Jimmy.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That night, I’d finished my show and was headed home. You can get a lot of hassle on the boardwalk that time of night because people are liquored up. So sometimes I took a shortcut through a couple of side alleys to get to the bus stop. I’ve walked it with you before, you remember?’ I looked at Esther and she nodded. ‘When I walked down the first alley that night, I heard voices echoing up from the other one. They sounded real angry so I was about to turn around, you know, and get outta there. But then…’ I trailed off. The screams of the late Donald Reeves echoed in my ears.
Reeves.
That was his name, according to my legal aid attorney. Somehow, putting a name to the man I’d seen slip from this world to the next made him more real to me. Before, he was just a ghostly figment. Now he was a person with an identity. And a wife. And a ten-year-old kid.
‘But… what?’ Jimmy asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I looked at him and took a deep breath; this was the second time I’d had to tell this story in the last hour. At least, I guess, Esther and Jimmy were giving me an easier time of it that my legal aid attorney had. ‘I recognised one of the voices as Frankie’s and I turned back. I don’t know why, it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and that’s really saying something.’
‘Did you actually see Frankie shoot someone? I mean, did you see…’ Esther started but couldn’t finish.
‘Yeah. Frankie had two other guys with him. He was threatening this fella who owed him money, my lawyer tells me his name was Donald Reeves but I’d never seen the guy before. It sounded like he’d owed Frankie for a long time and was begging for one more chance to pay it off. Some kind of gambling debt. I’d always known Frankie was sorta questionable as a human being – I mean, you hear rumours – but I didn’t think he was a murderer. I thought maybe he was just trying to frighten the guy into paying up, you know? But then the other two guys, they started beating him. Frankie told ’em to, and they really pummelled the guy hard. I didn’t know what to do, so I just peeked carefully as I could round the wall. They all had their backs to me and were kickin’ at the guy who was screamin’ and beggin’ them to stop. And then…’ I froze, seeing it once more, like I had so many times in my dreams. I opened my mouth again to speak but the words were stuck somewhere inside, in a place I couldn’t quite reach. Esther stretched her hand over to mine, which was resting on the bars, and squeezed it. I looked into her blue eyes as I spoke. It was more comforting than looking anywhere else right then.
‘They shot him,’ I said. ‘Frankie just shot him. Didn’t even make a big deal of it, the way people do in the movies, just pulled the trigger as easy as ripping the tab off a can of soda.’ I paused, thinking back to the photograph Lange had shown me during our interview about an hour earlier. She’d had the photograph tucked in a neat manila folder that had my name stamped across it in black ink. The picture had been of the dead Donald Reeves, his eyes staring blank and wide at me, just like they had the night he was shot and every night since, in my nightmares.
I looked from Esther to Jimmy and started blathering. ‘And I didn’t know they would do that. If I’d realised, I would’ve done something, I don’t know what, but something.’
‘Blue, if you didn’t pull the trigger, this ain’t your fault,’ Jimmy said, his eyes level, his voice calm. Though what he said was true I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should’ve done something. The fright of it all had kept me quiet until it was far too late.
‘Afterwards,’ I continued, ‘he was just lying there. Bleeding. Frankie shot the guy through the head and he didn’t even blink before doing it.’
‘You must have been so scared.’ Esther stared at me and shook her head. Jimmy’s eyes were on me too and the expression in them made me ache.
‘I was,’ I said. ‘I still am.’
‘Why?’ Esther said. ‘You’re the witness, not the murderer. Surely they’re going to let you go now.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s so much worse than you know.’
Both Jimmy and Esther frowned.
‘When Frankie shot the guy, I cried out. I didn’t mean to, it just happened, and they saw me and tried to shoot at me. So I ran, full pelt onto the main drag where I knew there’d be witnesses. They followed me, but had to put their guns away, and they could only follow me for so long. Frankie and his guys, they’re strong but they’re not marathon material. I could see they were starting to tire but I just kept running and eventually ducked into another casino, the Golden Sands, to make sure I’d lost them. I called the police from a payphone, begged them to send someone to come and collect me, which they did. But they sent a cop Frankie was paying off. For all I know, every officer in Atlantic City is in Frankie’s pocket.’
‘How’d you know he was crooked?’ asked Esther.
‘I was walking out of the casino with him and I was telling him what I saw. We were right near the car when he passed a comment about it being dangerous for young women to be walking down dark alleys at night.’
‘So what?’ Jimmy said. ‘The guy kinda had a point, Blue.’
I shook my head. ‘But I hadn’t told him yet, where I’d seen it happen. All I’d said was that I’d seen Frankie Ray shoot a man. I looked at him. My face must have given away my suspicion and there was something about the way he looked at me… I don’t know, I just knew I was in trouble.’
‘Well, what did you do?’ Esther asked.
‘I tried to run, but the cop grabbed the back of my coat at the bottom. The one decent winter coat I had and I had to shake it off to escape. It was a real nice one too.’ I muttered that last part. Even though I knew it wasn’t the most important thing, I was still a little bit sore about it. Tramping around New York in a leather jacket when it was freezing wasn’t my idea of fun.
‘Anyway, while I was struggling to get away that cop said Frankie wanted a word with me – and he was reaching for his gun. The second I was free of my coat I ran, so fast, so hard, back into the casino and somehow lost him in the crowds. After that, I ran to a taxi rank on Atlantic Avenue. I got them to drive me to my apartment out in Port Republic and then back to the bus station. I bought some supplies from a 24 Hour pharmacy nearby, went back to the bus station bathroom and did this to myself.’ I pointed at my hair. ‘Then I hopped on the first bus out of there, headed to Philly, and that’s where I stayed over Christmas until I came here to New York. The plan was to get as far away as I could in the hope of finding an honest cop to confess all this to.’
‘You were lucky to get out of there. I’m surprised Frankie’s guys weren’t waiting at your apartment for you,’ Jimmy said.
‘Oh, they were. Well, one of them was. But I figured they might be and made the cab pull up two streets away. When I got to the apartment, sure enough there was a guy standing near my building.’
; ‘God. So what did you do?’ Esther asked.
‘Well, my apartment’s on the ground floor, remember? And I’ve had to dodge my landlord a couple of times in the last six months, when I’ve needed a couple of extra days with the rent, so I’d taken to leaving the bathroom window unlocked. It looks closed to the casual observer but it can be opened if you know it’s not got the latch on it. Anyway, I went round the side of the building and climbed in that way. Grabbed my stuff and got out of there.’
‘If someone saw you leavin’ that alleyway right after this guy was shot, running away to New York don’t look great on you,’ said Jimmy. ‘But they’d need more on you than that for things to be conclusive. The murder weapon, for example.’
At Jimmy’s words, I welled up. ‘They found the murder weapon,’ I said, my words so quiet I could barely hear them myself.
‘They did? Where?’ Jimmy asked.
I looked at him. ‘The gun that killed Reeves and an empty wallet that belonged to him were found back at my apartment in Atlantic City,’ I explained, relaying what Ms Elise Lange had told me just half an hour ago.
‘What, how?’ said Esther.
‘It’s a set-up,’ Jimmy said, his voice flat.
‘You got it,’ I said. ‘It’s gotta be Frankie that’s behind it. Lange, my attorney, she said the police interviewed Frankie. Whether that’s true or not I don’t know but it’s what the police report from Atlantic City says. He said Reeves did owe him money and was due to pay it back to him that night but never showed. Then a witness, another cop apparently, stepped forward sayin’ he saw me run from the alley with the gun in my hand. It’s no secret how broke I am around the casino or that I walk that strip to the bus stop after my show. The prosecution is arguing that I shot Donald Reeves, took the money for myself and scrammed out of Atlantic City.’
Jimmy put a hand to his forehead and rubbed the skin with the flat of his palm. ‘As far as they’re concerned you had means, motive and opportunity.’
‘But I didn’t, I didn’t do that,’ I said, my breath getting quicker.
‘I know that,’ Jimmy said, looking into my eyes.
‘It only gets worse,’ I said. ‘Lange’s pushing me to plead guilty.’
‘What?’ Jimmy’s eyes narrowed.
‘She said what you said about all that evidence stacked against me. That the likelihood was I was going to jail anyway and that if I pleaded guilty she could negotiate better terms for me. But I’m not guilty, I’m not, and I don’t want everyone to think that about me. The people who know me, and my family, what the hell would they think of their daughter going down for murder? Not to mention the realities of prison. I mean, I’m tough, but there’s no way I’d hack a long-term sentence for murder. I mean, come on.’
‘Calm down,’ Esther said, recognising a desperate rant when she heard one.
‘Sounds like they sent you a fine lawyer there, Blue,’ Jimmy said, shaking his head.
‘Well, there is a lot of evidence against me,’ I said, but there was no disguising how low I was about my own lawyer siding with the prosecution.
‘That don’t matter. A lawyer’s job is to know an innocent when they see one and this Lange woman has failed on that score.’ Jimmy rubbed the right side of his chin. ‘What about the cop you rang. There’ll be a record that you dialled the station from the casino.’
‘That cop, Officer Briars is his name, he made a statement saying that when he came to pick me up, I fled – which is true. He says I was telling him Frankie had shot someone – again true. The only difference is, he’s making out that I was the true culprit and tried to pin it on Frankie, who I knew to be working nearby at the casino. Briars made an official statement saying that he probed me about the incident and when I realised my story wasn’t going to hang together, I ran.’
‘Damn it,’ Jimmy said. ‘They’re in it together. Look, I know you ain’t got the money to pay for your own lawyer but what about your family out in Detroit? Couldn’t they pay for a decent lawyer for you? Given the dire situation you’re in and all.’
‘I can’t,’ I said to Jimmy. ‘I can’t ask my family for money.’
‘Bonnie,’ said Esther, putting her hand on mine again. ‘I know you’re not their favourite person right now, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Jimmy is right. They’re your family and you are in a very serious situation. No matter what’s happened between you, they’d want to make sure you were alright.’
‘I don’t know if that’s true,’ I said. ‘Last time I saw my parents, they told me straight how little they thought of me. How disappointed they were with my choices. I’m going to go out on a limb and say they’ll class my move from casino entertainer to murder suspect as a step down in the world.’
‘Well you ain’t staying outta prison with this Lange woman fighting your corner,’ said Jimmy.
‘We have a regular in the diner, Julie-Ann, she knows a lot of lawyers, but I get the impression she only knows the pricey kind,’ Esther said, her face creasing with the effort of thinking up a way out of this.
A silence fell between us
‘Maybe I could talk to this Lange, see if I can change her… What?’ Jimmy said to Esther, who was squinting at him. ‘What?’
Esther looked at me and then back at Jimmy. ‘Didn’t you once say to me that you’re a qualified lawyer?’
‘Yeah…’ Jimmy said, and then realised where Esther was going with this. ‘Oh no. No. No. No. My days at the bar are over. Have been for four years now.’
‘But you could still defend Bonnie, legally, I mean,’ Esther pushed.
‘Legally, yes, but I can’t just take on a case like this. I got another job now. Look, Blue, it’s not that I don’t sympathise but…’ He’d trailed off because I was making my eyes real wide at him. ‘Hey, stop that, I can see what you’re doing there.’
‘I’m just lookin’ at you, Jimmy,’ I said. ‘Nothing more than that. Just lookin’ you in the eye while you tell me you won’t help me.’
‘Now I didn’t say that. Why you goin’ and putting words in my mouth? I’ll do what I can. I’ll look into this for you, do some research. But I can’t be your attorney. I just can’t,’ Jimmy said. ‘The answer is no.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Would the court please rise,’ said Judge Miller. She was a black woman in her late forties with a square, stern face and eyes that looked more oblong than oval. We didn’t hesitate to do what she asked, rising from the wooden chairs in the courthouse down on East 25th Street. The courtroom was mostly made of aging, creaking, mahogany. We stood on wooden floorboards, sat in wooden pews and even the walls, one of which was decorated with our country’s flag, were made of cold, hard wood.
‘Mr Boyle,’ the judge continued, ‘have you had time to review the charges with your client?’
‘Yes, Your Honour,’ said Jimmy.
I was no doubt looking more than a little bit dishevelled. It was now the second of January and so far I’d spent the entirety of 1991 in a police cell. Unlike me, however, Jimmy looked smart from top to toe. He was clean-shaven, had gelled his hair into position so the front no longer flopped forward into his face, and he was dressed in a deep blue suit, which he’d matched with a grey tie. A pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I had no idea how or why but they made his face look sharper, more pointed and alert than usual, and there wasn’t a sign to anyone else in the room that he’d had to be talked into representing me.
‘We haven’t always seen eye to eye,’ Esther had said to him. ‘But surely you agree with me on this? Bonnie’s innocent and needs your help. You have the opportunity to do something good here. Take it.’
‘Bonnie Brooks.’ The court clerk standing just to the right of Judge Miller addressed me and I started at the snap in his voice. ‘You have been charged with the murder of Donald Reeves on the 23rd of December 1990, in an alleyway off South Kentucky Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey. What is your plea?’
> ‘Not guilty,’ I said, being sure to look the judge right in the eye, just as Jimmy had told me to.
The clerk handed the judge a file filled with papers and took a seat.
‘Thank you. I’ll hear from the prosecution first.’ Judge Miller nodded at the other lawyer in the room – a curvaceous woman with long red hair who, when asked to state her name for the record, gave it as Lucy Anne Carter.
‘Thank you, Your Honour,’ Ms Carter said, rustling some papers in front of her. She was dressed in a dark grey pantsuit and, although her tone was neutral and professional, she somehow seemed much softer than the tight-faced Lange had been. ‘The State has filed a fifty-page document in support of the defendant remaining in custody until the trial date, which I believe you already have?’
‘Yes, counsellor,’ replied Judge Miller.
I took a deep breath. Jimmy had warned me the State would push to keep me in prison without bail. On hearing those words out loud, however, my stomach cartwheeled.
‘The request for Ms Brooks to be held without bail is largely down to the risk of flight, Your Honour,’ Carter continued. ‘In a highly suspicious move the defendant chose to flee the scene of the crime and even crossed state lines in a bid to escape. If bail is granted, Ms Brooks might flee again in order to avoid a court hearing. Given the seriousness of the charges, we recommend that the accused be held in county jail until the trial to ensure justice is served.’
All the way through Carter’s speech, I kept my eyes down on the wooden floorboards of the courtroom, shuddering at the thought of several weeks behind bars between now and the trial – or possibly twenty-plus years if I went to trial and was found guilty.
‘Thank you, counsellor,’ said Judge Miller. ‘Mr Boyle?’
Jimmy cleared his throat. ‘Your Honour, Ms Carter.’ Jimmy looked from the judge to the prosecutor and back again. ‘I understand the rationale behind the prosecution’s request for detention but having heard my client’s statement, I’m going to make an appeal that she not be detained between now and her trial in Atlantic City. My client’s actions were not those of a murderer trying to escape conviction, but of a frightened witness unsure of where to turn for help.’ At this I raised my eyes and looked first at the judge and then at Ms Carter. Pretty much the only instructions Jimmy had given me were to only speak when I was invited to and to make as much I eye contact as I could with the people who’d be deciding my fate.