The Last Good Place by Robin Burcell

Author:Robin Burcell [Burcell, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Brash Books
Published: 2015-11-03T05:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

Gladys White’s apartment was located on the second floor directly opposite the market and the massage parlor. Judging from her age at the time, mideighties, Casey hoped she’d still be living there and not in some nursing home—assuming she was still alive.

But alive she was, and very much in charge of her faculties. When she opened the door, her deeply lined face lit up when Casey told her why they were there.

“Come in, come in,” she said, holding the door wider. “About time someone started investigating that case. Poor girl.”

“You remember what happened?” Casey asked.

“There isn’t really much to remember at all,” she said, tottering over to a battered floral armchair in front of the window. She sat with some difficulty, her hands shaking as she gripped the chair’s arms. “I was sitting right here when I heard someone screaming.” She nodded toward the window. “There. Across the street. I saw the woman running from the alley, crying.” Gladys looked up at Casey, her smile more apologetic. “I’m afraid by the time I got out of my chair and made it to the phone, I heard sirens. So you see, Sergeant, I don’t know much about the murder at all.”

“You were up that late?”

“No, I was sleeping. Easier for me to breathe sitting up. I woke when I heard the screaming.”

“I don’t suppose you ever saw anyone hanging about that didn’t belong?”

“In this neighborhood?” Her laughter turned into a cough. It was a moment before she could continue. “Darned bronchitis…Where was I? A better question is who I knew. As my late husband used to say, this window is my life.”

Zwingler stepped in. “Who did you know?”

She looked out the window, then closed her eyes.

A minute or more passed by, and Casey, worried she’d fallen asleep, said, “Gladys?”

She held up one gnarled finger but didn’t open her eyes. Finally she tapped her temple as she looked at him. “Works a little slower than it used to…” She pointed to the window. “No one I knew. But I saw a girl, the one who screamed.”

“A girl?” There was nothing about any other witnesses. “You’re sure?”

“I used to see her every now and then. An Asian girl. Fairly young.”

“How young?”

“Heavens. Teens? Twenties? She was crying and ran from the alley into Mr. Singh’s shop across the street.”

“I don’t suppose you knew her name?”

“No. I saw a taxi come later that day, and she got in it. Never saw her again after that. I expect Mr. Singh knows who she was, since he was the one talking to her. I don’t see him out and about as often as I used to.” She sighed as she leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. “It was nice when he hired the security guard. We felt a lot safer, but, well, the girl was murdered anyway, and I think times are hard now.”

When she had nothing further to add, Casey and Zwingler thanked her and let themselves out.

Zwingler looked up at her apartment, then over toward the store across the street.

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