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I was flooded with images of June Freundorfer looking into Joe’s face, and I felt deeply wounded all over again. I had trusted Joe with everything. I was having his baby. I was making a family with him for keeps — and then this. I had never felt so betrayed by anyone in my life. I had to get away from him. I couldn’t stand to look at him for another moment.
I put both my hands out and shoved him away. He took a step back; I turned the key and opened the door slightly. I wedged myself through the narrow space and slammed the door shut.
I darted for the elevator, and before the doors even closed, my phone started ringing. I ignored my cell and I ignored the landline that was ringing when I walked into the apartment.
Both phones went quiet, then the landline rang again, and I checked the caller ID.
I picked up the phone in the kitchen, said hello to my partner.
“Sure, Richie. I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter 94
CONSTANCE KERR SAT with Conklin and me in a very small room at County Jail Number 2 on Seventh Street, only a couple of blocks from the Hall. Connie looked pitiful in her orange jumpsuit, her blondish-gray hair frizzed around her head like Frankenstein’s bride’s.
“This is a terrible place,” she said. “Horrid. The screaming. The language. It’s too much.”
I felt bad for her. I really did.
“What did you want to tell me?” Conklin asked her.
“I have to get out of here,” she said to my partner. “Tell me what I have to say to get out of here.”
“Tell us what you know about those heads, Connie, and this time let’s get on the path to truth. I’ll get you started,” I said. She switched her eyes to me as though she’d just realized I was there.
“I’ve spoken to Harry Chandler.”
“Yes? How is Harry?”
“He says you were never his girlfriend.”
Her laugh was the small feeble cousin of the long guffaws she’d let out previously.
“He says you stalked him, Connie, stalked him for years.”
“No.”
“So he can’t be a character reference for you, I’m sorry, and he said he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d killed his wife.”
“Oh, no, no, he can’t be serious.”
“It’s all serious. This is a homicide investigation.”
I had her attention now, and I knew when to shut up.
I folded my hands and watched Connie Kerr think it all through, how she could go from being a trespasser to being a murder suspect with a movie star willing to testify against her.
“I did see someone in the garden,” she blurted out.
“Don’t make anything up,” Conklin said.
“It’s true. I spied on the garden. It’s black as a damned soul in there at night, but every once in a silver moon, I’d see someone doing nighttime gardening — with a shovel. It looked more like a shadow than an actual person. The shadow would bury something, then put down a rock to mark the spot.”
Tears spurted, made tracks down her cheeks.
“I did suspect foul play, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I was afraid Harry would put me out on the street. Although I did want to know what was buried under those stones.
“That’s why I did what I did.”
