A couple of hours later, two police officers rang the doorbell. Mr. Rabinowitz got up and answered the door. He was filled with dread the moment he saw their uniforms through the glass door panel. What had they come about?
Carla heard the police were making door to door enquires about the attack on a young girl and the shooting, down the street. Knowing the matter would not go away Carla got up and spoke with the police.
“Hi, my name is Carla Walters and I lodge here. I was on my way home when I heard a car pull up. Two men grabbed the girl who had just walked past me. I ran to help, disarmed four men and threw their guns down the drain. In the struggle the two men who attacked the girl were injured. The girl ran off and I slipped away into the darkness.”
The two police officers looked most surprised. How could this slip of a girl standing before them deliver more than a stinging slap?
“I know what you are thinking, but it’s not a question of brute force, officers, it is the element of surprise and speed.”
Credible or not, her story matched that of the victim.
“Who fired the shot, Miss Walters?”
“The man holding the pistol discharged it near the left ear of his accomplice. The bullet went up in the air so no one was shot.” Carla lied to limit repercussions. She knew gunshot residue would be on her clothes, but that only proved proximity, not who pulled the trigger. If the police recovered the weapons, her prints were on them, but she had explained why.
The lead officer spoke. “We would like you to come to the station with us, to give your statement and identify the assailants.”
“Can I make a phone call? I need to seek legal advice.” Carla had to brief Sam Leighton on the events. He would appoint one of The Organization’s attorneys to limit the investigation into her involvement. Her cover was strong and unlikely to break under a police investigation, possibly even resistant to FBI probing. Nevertheless, no investigation at all would be preferable.
“You can do that down at the station, Miss.”
“Well, I need to get dressed at least.”
“No, you are adequately dressed. Come as you are and I will get an evidence bag for the clothes you wore at the shooting.”
“You are exceeding your authority, officers. I will call Governor Joe Buck, a personal friend and the two of you will be issuing parking tickets down town, by the end of tomorrow.” Carla’s eyes flashed angrily and both officers realised she was not to be messed with.
“Be quick!” the lead officer said as the other man left the hallway to wait outside Carla’s bedroom window. She dressed, applied her false fingerprints and collected the clothes she had worn earlier, for bagging and tagging. The officer took them in gloved hands and bagged them.
The trip down town took about ten minutes - no one spoke. This case had wider involvements than the police had first imagined. The parking ticket threat was probably a bluff but why test her, she was on her way to the station anyway.
Jon Ragan, senior partner of Taylor, Ragan & Roscoe Attorneys at Law, arrived an hour after Carla’s call to Sam Leighton. Within thirty minutes, Jon Ragan had prepared the statement and Carla was heading back to the bungalow.
She stuck to her original story, refusing to cooperate with the identity of the attackers and was now a hostile witness of no use to the police, in any subsequent court case.
Dozing for a while before she had to leave for work, she considered Dean Wilson, his odd behavior and the seal on his flat door. He was not up to stealing the new data on his own, so she would have to help him.
Carla was awakened by the alarm clock. She showered and dressed for breakfast, taking a taxi to work. Her dilemma with Dean had been solved by her subconscious as she slept.