T is for Trespass
Page 82“I’m sorry, but I have something I need to take care of. Maybe another day.”
“This won’t take long. Just a few quick questions and I’ll be out of your hair. Please.”
After a pause, he said, “All right, but I don’t remember much. It didn’t seem important, even at the time.”
“I understand,” I said. “If you’ll recollect, this was the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend.”
“Sounds about right.”
“You were on your way home from work?”
He hesitated. “What difference does that make?”
“I’m just trying to get a feel for the sequence of events.”
“After work, then. That’s right. I was waiting for my bus and when I looked up I saw a young woman in a white car pull forward, preparing to turn left out of the City College parking lot.”
He came to a stop, as though calculating his responses so he could offer the least information possible without being obvious.
“The van was coming from the direction of Capillo Hill.”
“Heading east,” I said. I was trying to encourage a response without too much prompting. I didn’t want him simply feeding back the information I fed him.
“The driver was signaling a right-hand turn and I saw him slow.”
He stopped. I shut my mouth and stood there, creating one of those conversational vacuums that usually goads the other guy to speak. I watched him avidly, willing him to proceed.
“Before the girl in the first car completed the turn, the driver in the van accelerated and rammed right into her.”
I felt my heart give a thump. “He accelerated?”
“Yes.”
“Deliberately?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I didn’t have time to think about it. I ran out to see if I could help. It didn’t look like the girl was seriously hurt, but the passenger, an older woman, had big problems. I could see it in her face. I did what I could, though it didn’t amount to much.”
“The younger woman, Ms. Ray, had wanted to thank you for your kindness, but she says the next thing she knew, you’d disappeared.”
“I’d done as much as I could. Someone must’ve dialed 9-1-1. I could hear the sirens so I knew help was on the way. I went back to the bus stop and when the bus came, I got on. That’s as much as I know.”
“I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been. This is just what we need. The defendant’s attorney will want to take your deposition…”
He looked at me as though I’d struck him in the face. “You never said anything about a deposition.”
“I thought I mentioned it. It’s no big deal. Mr. Effinger will go through this again for the record…the same sort of questions…but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ll get plenty of notice and I’m sure he can set it up so you won’t have to miss work.”
“I didn’t say I’d testify about anything.”
“You might not have to. The suit might be dropped or settled and you’ll be off the hook.”
“I answered your questions. Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t have a phone. Mrs. Von isn’t good about messages.”
“Why don’t I give you his number and you can contact him? That way, you can do it at your convenience.” I took out my notebook and scribbled Lowell Effinger’s name and office number.
I said, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I should have made myself clear. As I indicated, there’s an outside possibility the matter will be resolved. Even if you testify, Mr. Effinger will make it as painless as possible. I can promise you that.”
When I tore off the leaf and passed it to him I caught sight of his right hand. A crude tattoo was visible in the webbing between the thumb and index finger. The area was rimmed with what looked like lipstick red that had faded over time. Two round black dots sat on either side of his knuckle. My first thought was prison, which might explain his attitude. If he’d had legal problems in the past, it could account for his balkiness.
He put his hand in his pocket.
I glanced away, feigning interest in the decor. “Interesting place. How long have you lived here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have time to chat.”