Chapter Twenty-Four
Sam
After changing into Patten-logo t-shirts, we borrow an SUV from Slate’s fleet and drive to Columbus Place. Just as I did the night of the murder, my husband parks in front of the hydrant, shuts off the engine, and squints at the building.
Together, we retrace my steps across the street. The outside door remains unlocked and the vacant lobby desk is lit by the same dim bulb. As we climb the stairs, I can’t shake the feeling we’re being followed but no matter how many times I check, there’s no sign of anyone behind us.
On the third floor, I point to door three-oh-five. “That’s where Bobby met up with his lady friend.”
Light struggles through the grimy window lining the stairwell. The openness of where I crouch gives me pause. I can’t believe Gomez and Buonanno didn’t see me.
I walk up three more flights and stop on the landing. “The shots came from there.”
Two doors down, yellow tape marks the crime scene. Ignoring the bloody memories, I tap on the door across the hall and the same West Indian woman cracks it open.
Her eyes narrow. “Yeah?”
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“We’re not the police, ma’am. We’re private investigators.” Suds tries charming her with his southern accent and big smile.
The beautiful dark face frowns. “I know who you are. I’ve seen your pictures on the news. They t’ink you murdered my friend. Didn’t I tell you to stay out of it?”
She starts to slam the door but my hubby sticks his booted foot in the way. “Did you see the murder, ma’am?”
“Did you no hear me? Go away.” She glances up and down the hall, her fear a palpable, invisible monster but I need her statement.
My voice sounds desperate, even to me. “What if we could promise you’d be safe?”
“There is no such t’ing.” Between her knees, a thin toddler pokes her head out and smiles and I squat so we’re eye to eye.
“I want to make the bad guys go away. Don’t you?”
When she nods, a tear runs down her mother’s face. “There is nothing I can do.”
“Just tell me, was it him?” Standing, I open a picture of Buonanno on my cell phone and hand it to her.
“He pulled da trigger. Another mon was with him.” Leaning over, she lifts the little tyke onto her hip.
“Him?” I swipe the screen and show her Gomez.
“Yes. Now, please go.”
“What if we could get you out of here? Would you testify? Start over someplace else?”
“You go.” As she shuts the door, I slide a business card under. “If you change your mind, you can contact me at any time.”
On the way back to our car, I try to remain positive. “I sense a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Suds raises a brow. “Just as long as it’s not an oncoming train.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“I mean it, Samantha. If that woman calls Little Tony, your life won’t be worth shit.”
“Not true, it has a price tag of exactly five hundred thousand dollars.”
