Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [58]
“What do you want?” Jeanine asked Louise.
“I need money. I need money bad.”
“I’m sorry that you do,” Jeanine said, “but I don’t have any money to give you; maybe a few hundred dollars but—”
Louise snickered. “That not what I mean. Things are bad for me, got to get away from here.”
“Again, I’m sorry but—”
“Your family got money, big bucks, right?”
“Leave my family out of it!” Jeanine was surprised at the strength in her voice.
“I took care of you,” Louise said, “got rid a’ the knife and all. You owe me. You don’t pay me, I got to go to the police.”
“No, don’t do that,” Jeanine said. “Please.”
The three men approached. One said to Louise, “Hey, bitch, come on. What you hangin’ ’round with these white chicks for?”
It was as though Louise didn’t have any choice except to go with them. She said to Jeanine, “You be back here tomorrow, same time, and bring a thousand dollars with you. You hear me?”
Jeanine and Mitzi watched Louise leave with the men.
“What can I do?” Jeanine asked, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.
“I don’t know,” Mitzi said, “but maybe I can talk to my father and see what he suggests.”
“Tell your father?”
“You have a better idea?”
“My parents will know then.”
“It looks to me like they’re going to know anyway, at some time. My dad’s a pretty cool guy. We’ll talk to him together and ask him not to tell your folks. There’s no other choice, Jeanine.”
The thought of sharing with Mitzi’s father what had happened on Saturday night was terrifying to Jeanine. But Mitzi was right, and she didn’t see any alternative. Maybe Mr. Cardell would put up the money to satisfy Louise. Jeanine hung on to that thought as they drove to the Cardell home, where Mitzi’s father practiced putting on the back lawn.
“Daddy, we have to talk to you,” Mitzi said. “Jeanine’s in trouble.”
Jeanine bristled for a moment at being painted as the only one in trouble. After all, Mitzi had broken the rules, too, by going to Augie’s, and she had been involved in the cover-up. But she was in no position to quibble about relative guilt.
They sat in the Cardell kitchen, where Mitzi’s father poured glasses of sweet iced tea. “Now, Jeanine,” he said, joining them at the table, “what’s this trouble you’re in?”
It took Jeanine time to compose herself and to form her thoughts. When she was ready, she said, “Mitzi and I went to Augie’s Saturday night. My parents were away overnight and we—well, we decided to go.”
Cardell fixed his daughter with a harsh stare, which she avoided by casting her eyes down.
Jeanine continued recounting the events. She hadn’t gotten very far when Cardell stopped her. “You were there when that fellow was murdered?” he asked.
Jeanine nodded.
“Don’t tell me that—”
“It was an accident. He tried to rape me. It was his knife and he threatened to kill me. It just happened. He held the knife and we fought and it went into him.”
“Jesus!” Cardell muttered, shifting in his chair and looking out the french doors. He turned to his daughter. “You were there when it happened?”
“No, Daddy. I was with the black girl who—”
“What black girl?”
Jeanine answered his question, ending with, “She wants a thousand dollars or she’ll go to the police.”
“My God,” he said, again diverting his gaze to the outdoors.
“I don’t want my parents to know,” Jeanine said.
“Oh really?” Cardell said. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”
Jeanine started to cry.
Cardell ignored her tears and asked, “Who is this black girl you were with?”
“Her name’s Louise Watkins,” Mitzi replied. “She’s a drug dealer and a prostitute.”
“And you hung out with someone like that?”
“I didn’t ‘hang out’ with her, Daddy. I met her at the bar and—”
“And she wants a thousand bucks to keep quiet.”
The girls nodded.
“What makes you think she’ll stop at a thousand?” he asked. “You give in to blackmailers and they keep coming back for more.”
Another set of nods.
Jeanine said, “She said