Chapter 72
Allison
So far, so good. They’ve eaten up everything I told them about Marlow Luckett, some of which was true, much of which was not.
You know why they bought it? Two reasons.
One, it’s a pretty solid story. All but impossible to disprove, and verifiable in many ways.
Marlow, if he ever waives his right to silence and talks, will surely deny most of this and even say I was the one who hit him with the car, not Finley—but they won’t believe him over me, especially with the corroboration I’ve given them.
But the bigger reason they believe me? It’s not because they trust me.
They came to their conclusions on their own juice. And now I’ve walked in and told them, You’re right.
Do I feel sorry for what I’m doing to Marlow Luckett?
I do not.
I could check with the various women who were the object of his brutality, all of whom were afraid to testify against him. I think I would have their vote.
I could recall my experience in the Mortimer parking lot, Marlow’s plans for me that night, which included calling his buddies to join in on the fun.
No, I’m good with what I’m doing.
Besides, he is dead-to-rights guilty of aggravated battery when he attacked me in the garage. With his criminal record, he’s probably looking at double digits in prison for that alone.
“The pills in the car? That’s pretty simple,” I say. “That was Finley. He wanted to hurt Luke, and he wanted to hurt me.”
Simple, like I said. Once Trinity destroyed the video of my planting the Oxy pills in her car, it didn’t take long to come up with a story that would spare Luke and me.
“Why Luke?” asks Bruce. “Why you?”
“Well.” I put my hands together in front of me.
“Finley was quite insecure, as I say. Personally, I happen to think that he was smitten with Trinity Casto. But Trinity was closer to Luke, and she was literally doing a documentary on Luke. I think he wanted to knock Luke down a peg. It’s that simple.
“As for me, pretty much the same thing. He knew our marriage was over, even if we hadn’t formally separated yet.
He considered himself a disappointment. He had no income.
He’d gotten mixed up in that road-rage incident with Marlow Luckett, which he found quite embarrassing.
Nothing was going his way. He resented me and my career.
So he decided to throw me into Luke’s case, too.
Who knows—maybe he thought it would help him in the divorce. Anything to dirty me up.”
That, more or less, is what Trinity told them, too. And Luke will be happy to say the same thing if and when he agrees to talk. With the three of us singing from the same hymnal, and nothing to rebut it, Bruce Ghadiali has no prayer of convicting Luke.
“But you were the confidential informant,” says Bruce. “You tipped off the state police. Or had Jennifer Harper do it, but it’s all the same.”
“Oh, yes, that’s true,” I say. “Because I truly suspected that Trinity might be involved in drug trafficking. Her brother had a record for it, and she drove down on Monday mornings to see him at Olivet Nazarene. And she operates her own business…and a fitness facility, at that—”
“Okay, okay, I got you.” Bruce reluctantly nods.
“Finley knew I was doing that,” I say. “Tipping off the police. But he also knew something I didn’t—that Luke would be driving the Toyota that day.
So he took his personal stash of oxycodone, from when he injured his knee, and planted it in Trinity’s car.
And then he doubled down and used one of my grocery bags and threw in a tube of my lipstick. ”
I shake my head with grudging admiration.
“Say what you will about my husband, but he was no dummy. It was clever. Shitty but clever. At first, I didn’t know the half of it.
All I knew was Luke got busted, and there was Oxy in the trunk.
That was bad enough. It was only later that I realized the full extent of what Finley had done.
My shopping bag. My lipstick? Bruce, you remember dropping that bombshell on me at your office. I think my jaw hit the floor.”
Bruce suppresses a smile. But he’s betraying little with his expression. “It’s very convenient to your story,” he says, “that all fingers are pointed at a dead person who can’t reply.”
“Convenient,” I repeat. “Oh, yes, this has all been so convenient!” I stand up. “Bruce, if I’m some diabolical criminal, why was I dumb enough to drop a tube of my own lipstick in the contraband? Do I strike you as a careless person?”
He chuckles. “No, Allison, you do not.”
“Okay, what about the school security video?” Louise asks. “The thumb drive that was found in Trinity’s car.”
I sit back down. “What about it?”
“Is that you on that video?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And are you cutting the brake lines on your brother’s bike?”
“Does the video show me doing that?”
“It’s not clear,” says Louise. “It’s obscured. But I’m asking you.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t want to spoil Trinity’s documentary. You’ll have to tune in.”
I’m pretty sure she won’t be making that documentary after what I did for her.
But I gave her the green light. If she wants to do it, I’ll admit to what I did.
It will be embarrassing, sure, but nothing more.
I can’t be prosecuted for something I did at age twelve.
I doubt it would be a big enough deal to reach the attention of my law firm, but those folks won’t care, anyway, as long as I keep bringing in the big cases and ringing the cash register.
“That’s no answer,” says Louise.
“Maybe not, but what possible relevance does it have to Finley’s murder?”
“The relevance is that you desperately did not want Finley to see that video, true? You had that text exchange with Luke—”
“That is absolutely true. I didn’t want him to see that video. And as far as I know, he never did.”
That’s actually not true, of course. Fin told me over the phone that he’d seen it. But he’s not here to contradict me. Had he texted me, I’d be stuck.
“And if we have information that Finley had seen that video?”
“Like, from Trinity or Luke? Okay, fine. Then he did. But I didn’t know that.
And where’s this going, anyway? Do you honestly think that I had something to do with Finley’s death?
After the case you’ve built against Marlow Luckett?
No. You couldn’t possibly think that. Which means you’re just wasting everyone’s time.
” I get to my feet again. “Anything else? I need to get back to work.”
“Um, not at the moment, no,” says Bruce.
Not ever, he means. There’s no way they’re looking at anyone besides Marlow.
I grab my bag and face them one last time. “I was difficult to deal with through this process. I apologize. But everything I did was premised on the idea that you’d follow the evidence and find my husband’s killer. And you did. Thank you.”