Barclay, Linwood Novel 08 - Never saw it coming

before Justin woke up.
    But what she had here was an opportunity.
    “Hey,” Keisha said, looking down at Kirk through the openings between the mag wheel spokes.
    “Can’t . . . breathe,” he said.
    “Looks bad,” she said. “Must hurt like a son of a bitch.”
    “The fuck . . . you doing? Move . . . the shelf.” He was sounding wheezy.
    “I think I’ve got a way out, Kirk,” she said. “It might not work, but then again, it might. Got to take the chance.”
    “What . . . you . . .”
    “But it’s not going to work with you. Once Wedmore gets you in a room and starts putting questions to you, well, I don’t think you’re going to be able to outsmart her, you know what I’m saying?”
    “. . . bitch . . .”
    “You’re my weak link, Kirk. Sorry. You were an okay guy, you know? When we met? I really fell for you. You seemed so sweet.” There was that lump in her throat again. “But you conned me. You got inside me”—and she put her hand between her breasts—“before I realized what a useless piece of shit you are.”
    He didn’t say anything. He was watching her with that one eye.
    “But even a couple of hours ago, I might not have been capable of this. I might have helped you out here. But what you told Matthew? That I was going to send him away to military school?” She shook her head, and a teardrop fell from her cheek, slipped between the spokes and landed on Kirk’s forehead. “That was the last straw.”
    “Babe . . .”
    She put her weight on the shelf, which in turn forced the wheel down harder on Kirk’s neck. She managed to lift one foot from the floor, perch it on the edge of the middle shelf, then the other foot.
    Kirk made some very bad sounds. Sounds that Keisha would be hearing for the rest of her life.
    She sat there a couple of minutes until she was sure, glancing every few seconds at Justin to make sure he hadn’t regained consciousness.
    Once she was certain Kirk was dead, she went into action.
    She moved with deliberate speed, thinking through everything carefully.
    Rehearsed the story in her head.
    Got all the props in place.
    Then she found in her jacket pocket the card that Rona Wedmore had given her at the Garfield house. Went to the phone in the bedroom and entered the number.
    Wedmore picked up on the third ring.
    “Hello?”
    “It’s Keisha Ceylon. I’ve got a confession to make.”

Thirty-three
    Justin:
Shit, it’s about time. I’ve been sitting in here for hours. This room—is this one of those interrogation rooms?—this room is freezing. They took my jacket, and they even took my shoes. Why the hell did they take my shoes?
    Wedmore
: Sorry about that, Justin. Let me see if I can turn the heat up in here. I don’t even know if this thermostat is working. How are you feeling?
    Justin:
My head feels like it’s going to blow up. Thanks for asking. That bitch hit me right in the head with a beer bottle. She’s crazy. Nearly as crazy as her boyfriend. Both of them are nutcases.
    Wedmore:
The doctor says you might have a mild concussion. But the good news is, your nose isn’t broken.
    Justin: Sure feels like it. I want to go home. Is my mom here?
    Wedmore: I’m not sure. Listen, they explain to you about the lawyer and everything?
    Justin: Oh yeah, but I’m cool. You’re gonna want to hear what I have to say about Keisha and that guy.
    Wedmore: That’s good, because I have a few questions for you before you go.
    Justin: Have you charged that asshole with trying to kill me?
    Wedmore: You talking about Kirk?
    Justin: Yeah.
    Wedmore: Kirk Nicholson’s dead, Justin.
    Justin: Dead?
    Wedmore: Yup.
    Justin: Well, shit. That must have happened when the shelf fell on him? And those wheels fell off? Is that what happened?
    Wedmore: Why did you go to Keisha Ceylon’s house?
    Justin: I, uh, I wanted to thank her again for finding me before I did anything to hurt myself. I got depressed a couple of weeks back, was in a pretty dark place, and my parents hired her to use her, you know, senses, to find me.
    Wedmore: I know that’s not true, Justin. Why did you really go there?
    Justin: Huh? No, that’s true.
    Wedmore: So you came by just to say thanks, and that led to a big fight? That ended up with one man dead?
    Justin: It’s all kind of a blur.
    Wedmore: You sure you didn’t come by to boast?
    Justin: Boast?
    Wedmore: That you’d beaten Keisha at her own game?
    Justin: I don’t—what?
    Wedmore: Keisha decided to come clean.
    Justin: Come clean?