“It doesn't matter where you interview me,” I said quickly. “My lawyer has told me not to answer any questions.”
“You've already spoken to a lawyer about the incident last evening?” The other officer spoke this time. He sounded surprised and a little suspicious. “Why would you have done that?”
“No, it was about the robbery at the gas station,” I answered, realizing these two hadn't been involved then. “But I'm sure she'd give me the same advice about this. And anyway, I have an alibi for last night.”
“An
alibi
?” his eyebrows were raised and I knew
right away that had been the wrong thing to say. I guess an innocent person doesn't automatically mention an alibi when the police show up at the door.
“I mean, I was with some friends all evening. We didn't have anything to do with the break-in at the music store.”
“So, you and your friends weren't anywhere near Samuels'?”
I swallowed hard. “I think I want to call my lawyer,” I told him.
“Well, of course you can do that, if you feel you
need
a lawyer,” his voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent that made me nervous.
Mom was looking back and forth between us. Her face was scared.
“What exactly did you want to know?” she asked slowly. “It's not as though Shelby has anything to hide.”
“I'm sure she doesn't, but if she's not willing to talk to us ⦔ his voice trailed off in a way that implied he thought I
did
have something to hide. Then he added, “We're following up on some reports, and we'd just like to clear a few things up.”
“Maybe you should just answer their questions,” Mom told me. “I'm sure that will be the end of it.”
I wished Dad was there, but he wouldn't be home for at least another hour. I was sure he'd have called Ms.
Hill instead of suggesting I go ahead and talk to the police. It was true that I had nothing to hide. At the same time, I knew I'd somehow become a suspect, and if I talked to the police, anything that came out wrong could easily be misinterpreted.
Still, it would look bad if I refused to answer their questions after my own mother had told me to go ahead. I felt trapped.
So, we sat down in the living room and they asked me about the night before. Where had I been, what movie did we see, what time did we leave the theatre, where had we gone afterward?
I did my best to be careful when I answered them. I went over the evening bit by bit, telling them everything I could remember. I almost didn't mention stopping at Samuels' on the way home, worried that that would look suspicious. In the end, I did tell them that, and I was glad I had because one of the officers nodded in a way that made me sure someone had seen us and told the police we'd been there.
They took turns talking to me, and repeated some of the questions two and even three times. Finally, Mom pointed out that I'd cooperated and answered everything and that she saw no reason to keep asking me things over and over.
That was when one of the officers reached into his case and took out a couple of pictures. “Miss
Belgarden, have you ever seen this key chain before?”
I looked at the first picture, which he'd handed to me. The photo was of an oval-shaped, gold-coloured key chain with an eagle etched onto it. I shook my head and told him I didn't remember ever seeing it before.
Then he handed me the other picture, which he identified as being the other side of the key chain. I saw that there was an inscription on it, and panic rose in me as I read it.
“To A. C. Love Grandma.”
“Come on, Shelby, what do any of us really know about Amber?”
I hated to admit that Betts was right, but she was. None of us knew much about the girl who'd come to Little River. I probably knew more than anyone else, but then, I had no way of being sure that the things she'd told me were even true.
Still, I rose to her defence and pointed out that the evidence against her was all circumstantial.
“How much more do you need?” Betts's voice was exasperated, and I could see that her patience was growing thin. “The gas station is robbed when she's on duty. There are no witnesses, except the guy who was there just before the robbery who said she was gone for a while. That gave her the perfect opportunity to hide the money before she called the police with a story
about being held up. Then the three of you stop at Samuels' on your way from the show and it just happens to get robbed later that night. And her key chain is found on the floor there!”
“Amber says it's not her key chain,” I said lamely.
“Right. It just happens to have her initials on it, but it's not hers.”
“But the key didn't fit the lock on the Brodericks' house.”
“So what? It's probably a key from somewhere else she's lived. I don't know why you're so determined to believe she's innocent. It's almost as if you'd have to catch her in the act before you'd see that she's guilty.”
I was glad I hadn't told Betts about the incident at school when Amber had put my watch in her pocket!
The truth was, my own belief in Amber was shaken. It seemed that the case against her just kept getting stronger and stronger.
“You're not keeping an open mind,” Betts accused.
“Maybe I'm not,” I said slowly. “But after getting to know Amber a little bit, I just feel sure she couldn't have done those things.”
Betts rolled her eyes, which is what she always does when she's decided I'm being hopeless. “Well, someone did. And that someone has the initials A.C.”
“We don't know that for sure either,” I said stubbornly. “The key chain could have been there before the robbery.”
“Mr. Samuels says he swept up after closing that night and there was nothing on the floor.”
I didn't bother arguing anymore, mainly because I was losing and knew there was no chance of changing that.
The situation at school had been bad enough before the robbery at the music store. After that occurrence it turned outright hostile. No one wanted to talk to anyone who associated with Amber Chapman. At that point this only included Greg and me, since Betts had switched back to her previous attitude. I could see her point in not wanting to be ostracized and didn't hold it against her.
By Tuesday of the next week, Amber had been arrested and charged for both robberies. I guess the police figured they had enough evidence for a conviction. Amber wasn't at school the rest of that week, which actually took a little pressure off Greg and me. At first I thought she must be in jail somewhere, but that wasn't the case. She'd been charged and released until her trial, which was two months away. Greg told me the Brodericks had insisted that she take a few days off school.
“That almost makes her look guilty,” I remarked.
“Heck, I hope that doesn't turn everyone who thinks she's innocent against her,” he said sarcastically. He had a point there. It wasn't as if the general opinion about her was going to be affected by her absence from class. Everyone already thought she was guilty.
The police wanted to question me again, but Dad was home that time and told them to contact my lawyer instead. He hadn't been too happy to learn that Mom had already let me talk to them, a sentiment that Ms. Hill shared. She called me up and gave me a raking for not following her advice. When I pointed out that my mother had told me to answer their questions, she remarked that
she
was my lawyer and that if I wanted my mom to represent me instead I should just let her know.
I felt properly chastised although I didn't really think I was to blame in the whole matter. Still, there's no arguing with a woman like Ms. Hill. To tell the truth, I was glad to have someone like her taking care of the whole mess for me.
Greg was working a lot on the weekends, which left me without much to look forward to, especially since Betts had become reluctant to spend any time with me. I knew she felt bad about it but just didn't have the courage to stand by me, at least not so far as everyone else knew. I was sure that everything would get back to normal between us once this whole thing blew over. In the meantime, days off school were pretty boring.
I decided to go over to the Brodericks' to see Amber on Saturday. I went without calling first just in case she tried to put me off. She might not have felt like seeing anyone, but that didn't mean she didn't
need
to.
Old man Broderick met me at the door and welcomed me in with a big smile. Amber was in the kitchen making cookies with Mrs. Broderick. The way her face lit up when she saw me made me glad I was there.
“Shelby! I didn't know you were coming over.”
“Well, I heard there were cookies being made.” The aroma of chocolate chips filled the house and made me suddenly hungry.
“Rita is the best cook in the world,” Mr. Broderick's voice came from behind me. I hadn't realized he'd followed me into the kitchen.
“Aw now, Earl,” Mrs. Broderick demurred, but she looked pleased with her husband's compliment.
“She tried to hide a cake from me once,” he smiled at the memory, “but I found it. Just followed my trusty nose to the cupboard in the porch.”
Before I could wonder why Mrs. Broderick would be hiding food from her husband she explained that the cake had been for a Ladies' Auxiliary bake sale. It wasn't until she went to add it to the other items on display that she discovered her beautiful cake was missing several pieces. Mr. Broderick looked supremely satisfied with himself as his wife retold the story.
Amber and I giggled, mostly because of the expression on his face. Mrs. Broderick shook her head and said what a rascal he'd been, but her words were belied by the fact that she was smiling too.
There's something awfully sweet about an old couple who still obviously love each other. That's the way the Brodericks are, and it made me glad that Amber was living with them. With everything else that was going on in her life, she at least had a happy home to go to every day.
When the cookies were all baked and the kitchen cleaned, Amber and I went out to the backyard swing, where we sat talking and eating cookies.
“You must be pretty nervous about the trial and all,” I said sympathetically.
“It's like a nightmare.” Her voice was low and trembled slightly. “I keep thinking they'll realize the whole thing is a mistake, but there's no sign of that happening. I don't know what will happen to me if they find me guilty.”
“They won't!” I assured her with more confidence than I felt.
“You know what the worst thing is?” Tears were forming in her eyes. “My own mother doesn't even believe me. She thinks I did it as some kind of rebellion for being sent away.”
“You were talking to your mom?” I was surprised.
“The police called her about the key. Of course the one they found at the music store won't match any keys we've ever had, because it's
not mine
, but I doubt that will make any difference. They'll just think my mother is trying to protect me.”
“Did they call your dad too?”
“Probably. I haven't heard from him, though. Maybe he thinks I'm guilty too and is ashamed to talk to me.”
When I left, just before dinner, my certainty in Amber's innocence had been restored. Her worry over the trial and the anguish she showed over her mom's reaction were too sincere. There was no way a guilty person could put on an act that convincingly.
It was equally clear to me that with so much circumstantial evidence pointing in her direction, the only way that she was going to be cleared was if the real felon was found. And since the police were satisfied that Amber was the culprit, they weren't looking for anyone else.
It was at that point that the feeling came to me that the answer was right under my nose. There was something I was missing.
I had to figure out what it was.
It's funny how when you try to think of something it runs off and you can't get it to the surface. It was like that with me on the whole matter of the robberies. The more I concentrated and tried to force myself to bring up whatever was lurking in my brain, the more it seemed to hide from me.
I went over and over the details I knew about Broderick's and Samuels', but there was nothing that popped out as significant. Nothing that would point to the guilty person. Instead, everything seemed to fall in with the police theory that Amber was guilty. I could certainly see why Betts thought I was crazy for continuing to believe in her when all the facts suggested she was the culprit.
The thefts at school had started shortly after her arrival in Little River too. I had the nagging feeling
that that really didn't support the idea of her guilt, but couldn't figure out why. There was something that was eluding me.
Then I was washing dishes after dinner on Sunday, not thinking of anything in particular, when a jumble of thoughts began running through my head.
Think.
Think about the thefts that
didn't
happen at school.
Amber's remark about the key.
They'll just think my mother is trying to protect me
.
Betts's comment about the key chain.
Well someone did. And that someone has the initials A.C.
Dr. Taylor's words.
Drug addicts steal to pay for their habits
.
None of these things seemed the least bit helpful. It was just a conglomeration of unrelated things that didn't even fit together.
The last thought was most perplexing of all. Little River High had a huge anti-drug campaign a few years ago, when drug use had begun to be a serious problem. It was actually started by a group of students who were worried about their friends. Guest speakers came to both the middle and high schools. A two-day event was held where information was presented and students were asked to sign a contract promising to stay drug-and alcohol-free.