Ear-Witness (3 page)

He looked a little bit interested at that. Well, maybe not interested exactly, but his mouth sort of flattened out when I said it.

“Did you see or hear anything unusual last night?” he asked.

“Well, I hear fighting all the time, but ...”

Suddenly I had his full attention. His eyes bored into mine, like we were in some sort of staring contest. “Physical stuff or just words?” he said.

“Both, I guess. Last night was different, though. It was two guys. There was a lot of yelling, and then somebody fell down, or fell into the wall or something.”

“Did you recognize any voices?”

“Well, one was Ray, that's for sure. I hear him, uh,
heard
him all the time. Roaring all over the place. I don't know who the other one was.”

“Could you hear what they said? Think carefully now, Jess, this could be extremely important.”

I thought as hard as I could, but nothing came. “They woke me up,” I said. “Several times, I guess. But I didn't hear words, just, you know, loud voices.” I paused, because I was still trying to remember. “For some reason, I think they were fighting about money. I don't know why I think that.”

“Could there have been more than two people?”

“Tammi was there too. And the baby,” I added.

“What time was this?”

I shrugged. “Once was just after two. That's probably the only time I checked the clock.”

“Did you hear anything else? Other than two men arguing and someone falling down?”

“After that, I heard Tammi. She was crying for a really long time. Sort of talking and crying, crying and talking.” This eye contact stuff was killing me, but if I didn't do it, or at least try to do it, I was afraid he'd think I was lying.

“Any idea who she was talking to?”

I shrugged again. “Sorry,” I said.

“You didn't hear anything or couldn't tell who it was?”

“I didn't hear. Maybe she was talking to herself. Or to the baby.”

He nodded. “You said you heard fighting all the time. What kind of fighting?”

“Just... Tammi and Ray. That's the way they were.”

“You need to be more explicit than that, Jessica. Tell me what you heard.”

“Mostly words, yelling. Once I saw her with a black eye.” I paused. “He was pretty mean, even in front of me.”

“Can you give me an example?”

This was really hard work, and I didn't like it. Snitching isn't my style. I tried looking at the ceiling too, but it didn't have any answers. And Bud was waiting, drumming those fingers. I sighed. “Ray would say stuff like
Shut your bloody trap or I'll shut it for you
. Or, I don't know, make fun of her, like he knew everything, and she knew nothing. He was always telling her how stupid she was.”

“What a creep,” Sheena said.

Bud flashed his eyes at her. The message they sent was unmistakable. It was
shut up
. He turned to me.

“Did Mrs. Bird ever say anything to you about their relationship?”

I thought about that. “Once she did. We were out on the back stairs, it must have been last fall, because she was already looking really pregnant. We were just sitting there in the sun when all of a sudden she starts crying. Then she said that Ray used to be really nice to her, but when she got big, with the baby, he changed.”

Sheena looked directly at me, shook her head and pointed her thumb towards the floor.

“Anything else you can tell us?” Bud said. “Anything you saw or heard that seems unusual?”

I thought some more. “There's the money,” I said. “Ray always has ... had, a whole lot of money.”

“How much is a lot? A couple of hundred?”

Did this guy think I was a kid or what? “More than that,” I explained. “He had this big wad with a gold dollar-sign clip on it. Hundreds and fifties. Lots of them. Like maybe thirty hundreds, and at least that many fifties. He always had money like that. Once he showed me a thousand dollar bill.”

Bud glanced quickly at Sheena, who bent her mouth down at both ends, and nodded.

“The Birds have many visitors?” he said.

“Nope.”

“People dropping around? Coming to the door?”

“No.” I knew what he was thinking, that Ray was a drug dealer. If he was, he didn't do it from home.

“Ever smell grass there, or hash?”

“No. Never.”

“You know what they smell like?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice girl like you knows that?”

“You'd have to be pretty dumb to be in high school and not know that,” I said. “Not that I ever...”

“Ever see any white powder lying around?”

I shook my head.

“OK, Jess. Thanks,” he said. “This has been very helpful. Uh, sorry if I made you mad earlier. Guess you don't like talking about your old man, eh?” He flashed his fake smile.

I smiled too, but just a little, to make him think I had no hard feelings.

“Sheena here will type up your statement, so you can sign it,” he said.

Sheena's mouth moved sideways on her face. “Just give
Sheena-here
a few minutes, then she'll drive you home.”

Toronto is an enormous city. The very rich live in mansions on quiet streets, or in elegant condominiums overlooking the lake. The less rich own single-family homes with one or two cars in the driveway. The rest of us rent; houses, townhouses, apartments, whatever we can afford. Mom and I live on the top floor of a hundred-year-old triplex. Our car, a ten-year-old clunker, gets parked on the street.

When Sheena and I rolled down Telrose Avenue in the big cruiser, three other cop cars and a police van were pulled up on the sidewalk in front of a No Parking sign. Small groups of neighbours stood
around in clusters, chatting and watching the show. Ronny Roach and two of his buddies were among them, sharing what was probably a cigarette. For the second time that day I was aware of unfriendly eyes.

“See ya,” Sheena said. She watched me get out and start across the street. Then she took off towards the only cruiser with someone still in it. A guy in a uniform sat in the driver's seat with the door open. When he saw her coming, he swung his legs to the ground and stood up and stretched, like he'd been sitting a long time. A police radio crackled with static. Somebody turned it off. The silence was deafening.

Mom, Mrs. Orellana, and the Orellana kids were hanging out on the porch. The grassy area in front, which Mom laughingly called
the lawn
, was surrounded by waist-high yellow tape. Inside the roped-off area, two cops were crawling around on their knees, saving bits of garbage in small plastic bags.

I perched on the steps just below Mom. I hadn't seen her since I left for school, but it seemed like a week. I had this overwhelming urge to throw my arms around her neck, but I didn't. “Where's Tammi?” I said.

“Gone to her friend's place.” Mom rubbed my shoulders for a second. I leaned back on her legs. It's spooky sometimes, how we almost read each other's minds.

“Why aren't you sleeping?” I asked. Then I looked around at all the activity going on. “Too noisy?”

“I don't have to work tonight,” she said. “I traded shifts. Jess, you know Mrs. Orellana. And Flavia, and Carlos.”

We all smiled. The Orellanas were new. They'd been living in the ground floor apartment, the one underneath the Birds, for about three weeks now. Even though the kids are more or less my age, we hadn't said more than Hi. They're refugees, from some place in Central America. I felt shy around them for some reason, and although they spoke really good English, I never knew what to say. Usually when you meet new kids you can ask them stuff about where they were before, like what school they were at, or what city they lived in. But when people have had to leave their country, I figured they might not want to talk about it. And maybe they'd think I was ignorant if I asked.

The girl, Flavia, had awesome olive skin and long straight hair tucked behind her ears. She looked older up close; she could easily be seventeen. Carlos was probably about my age. He was chunky, with
big muscular shoulders and arms. His hair, pulled back into an elastic, was long too. Mrs. Orellana was an older version of Flavia. She and Mom looked kind of nice, sitting there side by side. Both skinny, with their dark hair done up in a knot. Both really attractive women.

“What did the police want?” Mom asked.

I looked into her eyes. “I guess I heard the murder happen,” I said. “They wanted me to tell them everything, stuff I didn't even know.” Then I turned to Flavia. “Did you hear anything?”

Her eyes swung to the police all around us, then she looked at her mother and said something in Spanish. Mrs. Orellana shook her head. “No,” Flavia said.

Sheena came up the walk and I introduced her to everybody. She nodded, touched me on the head, and went inside.

“Is he still in there?” I said. “Ray?” I hadn't wanted to ask, but I had to know.

“No,” Mom said. “They took the body away around noon. How was your book report?”

The body. I've never seen anybody dead, and that's just fine with me. I looked down at the step I was sitting on, and imagined Ray climbing it last night. A one-way trip. Unless you count being carried out.

“The book report, Jess. How was it? Did you survive?”

“Yeah, sure.” I said. “It was a piece of cake.”

Flavia and Carlos looked at me and frowned.

“What's going on?” I asked. “Did I say something stupid?”

“No,” Mom said. Then she laughed. “But a book report isn't really a piece of cake.”

“You know what I mean,” I said.

“But the Orellanas don't.”

Flavia said something to Carlos in Spanish, then turned to me. “Sayings like that are very difficult when you do not grow up with the English,” she said. “A piece of cake, what does that mean? Used the way you said it.”

I started to explain. “I had to read a book report in front of the class this morning,” I said, “and I had my underwear in a knot about it..”

They laughed, and so did Mom, but I didn't get the feeling they were being mean. Carlos whispered something to Flavia, who elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Animal!” she said. “Men are such animals!” She turned back to him. “I will tie yours in a knot if you do,” she said.

“I did it again, didn't I?” I said. “Underwear in a knot. That means I was very stressed out. You know stressed?”

Flavia nodded. “Piece of cake?” she said.

I turned to Mom for help. She looked up at the sky. “Piece of cake.” She thought for a moment. “You say that when something's easy and pleasant to do. Like eating cake.”

We all looked at the sky now. It was deep blue and cloudless. Sheena came out and sat with us. She looked up too. “Nice,” she said.

If Mom hadn't been with me, I would
never
have gone back inside that door and up those stairs. The worst part was passing Tammi and Ray's apartment. I couldn't stop thinking that there was still something horrible in there: the murderer, maybe; or the dead body, even though I knew both were gone. Well, I knew the body was gone because Mom told me it was. And the murderer had to be gone, because if he was still there, the cops would have caught him. Unless he came back later, to revisit the scene of the crime, like some murderers are supposed to do.

Ray could have come back too, if he turned into a ghost. Fortunately I stopped believing in stuff like that years ago. Even when I was alone in the middle of the night, and the wind was howling and the whole building creaked, I was still pretty sure there weren't any. Almost sure.

After dinner (spaghetti and home-made vegetarian tomato sauce, my specialty) the three of us: Mom, me, and Raffi, Mom's boyfriend, were sitting around in our big front room telling lies.

My lie was hiding how scared I was. If Ray could get murdered, we could get murdered too. Maybe Mom knew how I felt, and maybe she didn't, but I wasn't giving anything away.