Nashville Noir Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mrs. F., I just don’t know how to handle this. Janet Blaskowitz’s one nice lady, loves those kids to death.”
    “What is it you need to tell her that’s so difficult, Mort? An accident? She’s been injured?” I hopped up from the chair and paced the room.
    “I didn’t know that Cindy changed her name,” Mort said.
    “She did? I didn’t know that, either. But what does that have to do with your call? Changing her name isn’t so terrible.”
    “Probably not, but I sure looked like a fool to the Nashville cops asking them to look for a girl whose name isn’t what I told them it was.”
    “I’m sure they understood. Where did they find Cindy?”
    “I’m not quite sure about that. They didn’t give me many details.”
    “Mort!” I snapped. “Get to the point. Where is she? ”
    “I hate to say this, Mrs. F.”
    “Out with it!”
    “She’s in custody . . .”
    I dropped back into my chair. “I never expected that. But why wouldn’t she call? Why not let her mother know?”
    “It’s not the sort of thing you call your mother about. I mean, it’s nothing to brag about. It’s pretty bad, Mrs. F. She’s been arrested and charged with murder. Some music producer, according to the Nashville cops.”
    “Roderick Marker.”
    “That’s the one. Seems like Cindy went on the lam for a few days and had the cops searching for her. They finally found her and brought her in.”
    “Poor Cindy,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t believe it. It doesn’t sound like her at all. She’s such a quiet, reserved young woman.”
    “You gotta watch out for the quiet ones, my old captain in New York City used to say. They’re the kind who flip out when you least expect it.”
    “I’m sorry, but I just don’t see Cindy as the flipping-out kind.”
    “The detective I spoke with said she was caught red-handed at the scene. He said she’d hit Marker with some kind of trophy, then ran out of the office crying, right past a security guy coming in to check on what was going on. Happened early Friday night.”
    “They’re sure that it was Cindy Blaskowitz who ran from the scene?”
    “According to the fellow I spoke with. The fact that she was seen running from the scene, and holed up somewhere for a few days after it, doesn’t do much for her case, I’d say.”
    “No, that doesn’t sound good. Still . . .”
    “Thing is the victim, this fellow Marker, wasn’t dead yet when she ran.”
    “Did he identify Cindy?”
    “Nope. He wasn’t in any shape to talk, says my contact in Nashville.”
    “How did they find her, then?”
    “At first they put out an alert for her as a person of interest. Then some guy called in an anonymous tip, and the street patrol picked her up at a convenience store where she was buying a sandwich or something, brought her in for questioning, and held her for the rest of the day.”
    “Did she confess?”
    “No, but apparently they came up with enough evidence—the cop I spoke with wouldn’t be specific—for reasonable cause to book her for felony assault. When they heard Marker passed away without regaining consciousness, they upped the charge to murder.”
    “If she did hit him, Mort, there had to have been a good reason. Maybe he was assaulting her .”
    “Yeah, I thought of that, too. Only problem is the guy wasn’t hit on the front of the head. He got hit from behind, walking away. At least that’s what my guy in Nashville says. No court will buy that as self-defense, Mrs. F.”
    “Where is she now, Mort?”
    “The women’s prison somewhere outside of Nashville.”
    “This is terrible,” I said.
    “Doesn’t sound good, Mrs. F.”
    “Is there anything else you can tell me, Mort, someone I can call in Nashville?”
    Mort didn’t have any further details, but he did give me the address and phone number of the precinct where Cindy was arrested, and the name of the detective in charge of the investigation, Perry Biddle. I dutifully wrote everything