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She didn’t tell the detective that that was when Jada removed the Browning Black Label .380 from her clutch.
“That’s when Larry screamed no and then the man shot him twice in the chest.”
“What happened then, Ms. Taylor?”
“That was when I shot him,” Carmen said instead of telling the detective that when Castellano turned to leave, that it was Jada that shot him in the back of the head before he made it out of the diner.
Carmen smiled to herself when she thought about Jada, who she remembered as not being a very good shot, blowing the smoke from the barrel and saying in typical Jada West fashion, “I’ve had a lot of practice lately.”
“Call the police,” the cook yelled immediately, and the waitress picked up the phone.
“Not yet,” Carmen said quickly. She looked at Jada. “You need to leave.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be alright. Give me the gun.”
Jada took the scarf from around her neck and wiped her fingerprints from the gun before handing it to Carmen.
“Now get out of here,” she said and then looked at the cook and the waitress. “What about them?”
“I’ll take care of them,” Jada said and then she went to get her clutch.
She took out the ten thousand dollars in cash that she had on her and walked to the counter. Jada stood in front of them and without making eye contact, began counting the money she had in two piles. When she was finished counting, Jada looked at the pair.
“I was never here,” Jada said.
When the cook reached for the money, Carmen very quickly placed her palm on top of the crisp bills.
“Tell the police exactly what you saw. After he shot the two of them, I shot him. Understand?”
“That man walked in here, shot them two people and then you shot him before he could getaway. Ain’t that right, George?” the waitress said and looked anxiously at the cook.
George looked at Carmen and Jada and then to the pile of money. “It happened just like that. You shot that man,” he said and then Carmen moved her hand.
“Exactly what you saw,” Carmen said and then she turned to Jada. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m going,” Jada said and headed out the door.
“Now you can call the police,” Carmen said and took out her phone to call her cameraman, Max.
As the phone rang, Carmen gave some thought to the fact that it was now four thirty-five in the morning and maybe she should have just called the station and have them send a crew, which she was going to end up doing anyway. But she knew that if she did that, Max would be mad at her.
“Do you know what time it is?” a half-sleeping, half-angry Max answered just before it went to voicemail.
“Yes, Max, I know what time it is, and I’m sorry, but…”
“What is it, Carmen?”
“I’m at the City Diner on Broadway. Grab your gear and get down here.”
“You’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“I was … I mean I am. Just get down here, Max.”
“I’m on my way,” Max said, and Carmen could tell that getting out of bed at that hour was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Max.”
