We stood in the dark, looking at each other.
“No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s the fault of the asshole who pulled the trigger. You had nothing in the world to do with that. But if it was me, I’d feel the same way.”
“My God,” I suddenly said.
“What?” He was alarmed, and he looked around as if I had spotted something.
“His doggie bag. What happened to it? It wasn’t inside my Mercedes. There was nothing in there that I could see.
Not even a gum wrapper,” I said.
“Damn, you’re right. And I didn’t see nothing on the where your ride was parked. Nothing with the body street or anywhere at the scene, either.”
the place no one had looked, and it was right There was o where we were, on this street by the restaurant. So Marino and I got out flashlights again and prowled. We looked along Broad Street, but it was on 28th near the curb where we found the small white bag as a large dog began barking from a yard. The bag’s location suggested that Danny had parked my car as close to the cafe as possible in an area where buildings and trees cast dense shadows and lights were few.
“You got a couple pencils or pens inside your purse?”
Marino squatted by what we suspected might be the remains of Danny’s dinner.
I found one pen and a long-handled comb, which I gave to him. Using these simple instruments, he opened the bag without touching it as he probed. Inside were cold French fries wrapped in foil and a jumbo pack of Dentyne gum.
The sight of them was jolting and told a terrible story.
Danny had been confronted as he had walked out of the cafe to my car. Perhaps someone emerged from shadows and pulled a gun as Danny was unlocking the door. We did not know, but it seemed likely he was forced to drive a street away, where he was walked to a remote wooded hillside to die.
“I wish that damn dog would shut up,” Marino said as he stood. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
He crossed the street to his car and opened the trunk.
When he returned, he was carrying the usual large brown paper bag police used for evidence. While I held it open, he maneuvered the comb and pencils to drop Danny’s leftovers inside.
“I know I should take this into the property room, but they don’t like food in there. Besides. there’s no fridge.”
Paper crackled as he folded shut the top of the evidence bag.
Our feet made scuffing noises on pavement as we walked.
“Hell, it’s colder than any refrigerator out here,” he went on. “if we get any prints they’ll probably be his. But I’ll get the labs to check anyway.”
He locked the bag inside his trunk, where I knew he had stored evidence many times before. Marino’s reluctance to follow departmental rules went beyond his dress.
I looked around the dark street lined with cars. “Whatever happened started right here,” I said.
Marino was silent as he looked around, too. Then he asked, “You think it was your Benz? You think that was the motive?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“Well, it could be robbery. The car made him look rich even if he wasn’t.”
I was overwhelmed by guilt again.
“But I still think he might have met someone he wanted to pick up.”
“Maybe it would be easier if he had been up to no good I said. “Maybe it would be easier for all of us because then we could blame him for being killed.”
Marino was silent as he looked at me. “Go home and get some sleep. You want me to follow you?”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
But I wasn’t, really. The drive was longer and darker than I remembered, and I felt unusually unskilled at everything I tried to do. Even rolling down the window at the toll booth and finding the right change was hard. Then the token I tossed missed the bin, and when someone behind me honked, I jumped. I was so out of sorts I could think of nothing that might calm me down, not even whiskey. I returned to my neighborhood at nearly one A.m., and the guard who let me through was grim, and I expected he had heard the news, too, and knew where I had been. When I pulled up to my house, I was stunned to see Lucy’s Suburb an parked in the drive.