Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [57]
The next morning, Mrs. Montgomery asked Jeanine if anything was wrong.
“No. Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, dear, you look worried about something.”
Jeanine manufactured a dismissive laugh. “No, Mother, everything’s great.”
Everything was great in the Montgomery household until five o’clock that afternoon when two Savannah detectives arrived at the door. Mrs. Montgomery answered.
“Ma’am, we’d like a word with your daughter, Jeanine Montgomery,” one detective said.
“My daughter? Why?”
“Just a routine inquiry, ma’am. Is she at home?”
Jeanine was summoned from upstairs. The detectives got right to the point: “Were you at Augie’s Saturday night?”
“Augie’s?” She made a face. “I never go there.”
“One of the people we interviewed said that she thought she’d seen you there.”
“I hesitate to intrude, Detective,” Mrs. Montgomery said, “but I assure you that my daughter doesn’t frequent places like that.”
The two men looked at Jeanine, waiting for an additional comment from her.
“No,” she said, “I wasn’t there. My mother is right. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that.”
“Sorry to have bothered you,” said one of the officers. “The witness said she wasn’t sure that she’d seen you but we had to follow up. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course we understand,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “You’re doing your job, and you do it very well, all of the Savannah police. Would you like coffee or a soft drink?”
They declined the offer and left.
Jeanine’s father was, of course, told of the police visit when he returned home that evening. “Glad you straightened them out,” he said after his wife had recounted the reason for the visit and its outcome. “Ridiculous thinking someone like Jeanine would be involved in anything as tawdry as that.”
The following day, Jeanine was home alone when a call came.
“Hey, this is Louise,” Louise Watkins said.
“Who?”
“Ah, come on, don’t play dumb with me. Louise, from Saturday night. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember. How are you?”
“Not so good. I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” said Jeanine.
“Better you talk to me than to the cops.”
Jeanine felt as though she’d been hit in the stomach. The message was clear. This girl named Louise was going to blackmail her. Where would she get the money? From her parents? She’d rather die than tell them what had happened. Please, dear God, make this go away.
Louise told her of a street corner where she wanted to meet later that afternoon.
“Please don’t do this,” Jeanine said, aware as she did so that she sounded pathetic. She summoned her control, steadied her voice, and said, “I’ll meet you there.”
Louise hung up.
Jeanine called Mitzi and told her about the call.
“You aren’t going to meet her, are you?” Mitzi said.
“What am I supposed to do?” Jeanine countered. “She knows everything that happened and can tell the police.”
Mitzi paused in thought. Finally she said, “Jeanine, it was an accident. The guy tried to rape you. Maybe it would be best to just tell what happened.”
“Tell who? My parents? They’d kill me. I’d never be able to go out for the rest of my life. Maybe this Louise isn’t looking for money to keep quiet. We can meet and find out what she wants. No harm in that.”
“We meet her?”
“Yes! You were there with me. I need you, Mitzi.”
Another pause before Mitzi said, “All right. This stinks.”
“I know. I’ll meet you there at four.”
The street corner was in a shabby part of the city. Louise was waiting when they arrived. She was dressed like a streetwalker and had obviously been using drugs. The flesh around her left eye was discolored, black-and-blue.
She led Jeanine and Mitzi into a small, weed-choked park with two broken benches. Jeanine noticed three