Free Blues in the Night by Rochelle Krich Page A

talked to him, but he panicked. He didn’t want to get involved, have his name in the paper.”
    I put down the knife and took the receiver in my hand. “But he
is
involved!”
    “He didn’t see it happen. He looked for her because he was worried, but he didn’t see her. He drove about half a mile, then gave up and went home.”
    I rolled my eyes though Connors couldn’t see me. “You actually
buy
that?”
    “It was dark, Molly. No moonlight. He thinks she hid when she saw him coming and waited until his car passed her. She’s proud like that, he said.”
    “Are you going to check out his car?”
    “You keep asking that. What’s with you and cars lately? Are you opening up a dealership?”
    Today his humor grated. “Well,
are
you?”
    “We did—both cars, in fact. He’s not the guy, Molly. I know you’re disappointed.”
    “There are body shops—”
    “The paint is old,” he interrupted me, impatient. “There’s nothing to indicate that either vehicle was involved in an accident.”
    I thought for a moment. “According to the police report, Lenore was hit at one forty-six. I assume that’s when it was called in, right?”
    “Right. And before you ask, Saunders doesn’t know exactly what time she left, or when he drove down the hill.”
    “Very convenient.”
    “Was he supposed to check his watch? Oops, time to drive down the hill and slam the ex-wife.” Connors sighed. “Give it up, Molly.”
    But I couldn’t. There’s a maxim in Judaic law that I learned in my high school Bible class:
modeh b’miktzat, modeh b’kol
. If someone admits he lied about part of a charge, chances are he lied about the charge in its entirety. Or as Bubbie G would say, “Half a truth is a whole lie.” I didn’t think Connors or a D.A. would appreciate Talmudic reasoning or a proverb.
    “I just can’t believe he didn’t see her,” I said instead. “What if she was trying to run away from him, Andy? Maybe that’s why she didn’t see the car coming. Doesn’t that make him responsible?”
    Connors didn’t answer right away. “It’s a possibility I’ve considered,” he allowed grudgingly. “Another is that he saw her on the way back, after she was hit, and did nothing about it. But we don’t have a Good Samaritan law, Molly. As to the first possibility, I can’t prove it, and unless I can, I’m going to leave it alone. Which is what you should do.”
    “Why?”
    He expelled a deep breath. “Do you know who Robert Saunders is?”
    I frowned. “Should I?”
    “His family is old money. Saunders is a land developer and he’s running for city council. He has a lot of supporters, including the mayor.”
    I’m not much into city politics, so I wasn’t surprised that his name hadn’t been familiar. “You didn’t mention this before.”
    “I didn’t know until yesterday, when Lenore’s mom clued me in.”
    “If Saunders is running for city council, no wonder he doesn’t want all this to come out.”
    “We don’t know that there’s anything to come out.”
    “You know there is.”
    “He’s well-connected, Molly.”
    “So?” I didn’t like what I was hearing.
    “So it’s not a good idea to sling accusations against someone like him unless you have solid proof. Which I don’t have.”
    Anger stirred inside me. “
Please
don’t tell me you’re backing off because he has money and friends in high places. If you do, I’ll vomit.”
    “Have you forgotten about presumption of innocence? Just ’cause he’s a politician doesn’t mean he’s a liar.”
    “Can
you
spell Gary Condit?” I asked in a
Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
voice.
    Connors hung up. I turned on the radio to KF101, the oldies station. With my mind on Saunders and “My Boyfriend’s Back” in the background, I finished slicing the celery, chunked an onion and four pared potatoes, one red and one green pepper, some mushrooms, and spread everything on the bottom of a foil-lined baking pan. I sprinkled garlic powder and