“They were khaki work pants like the pants he typically wore. But how many men wear khaki work pants? Only jeans are more common.”
Jasmine took a moment to process what he’d told her. He had a point. But she didn’t like him. And, with what Kozlowski had shared about him, he didn’t have a lot of credibility. “What about the size?” she asked.
He took another drag before responding. “Didn’t match. They were one size smaller than the pants hanging in Moreau’s closest.”
“One size isn’t enough to draw a conclusion,” she argued. “It’s possible to own one pair of pants that are slightly smaller than the rest. They could’ve been bought before Moreau gained weight. Or maybe he was on a diet and bought them because he was slimming down.”
Tilting his head back, Black blew a fresh stream of smoke into the sky. “Why am I wasting my time with you?” he asked. “You’re just like Huff. You see what you want to see.”
Jasmine had to admit she was feeling defensive of the overzealous detective.
She was defensive of Romain, too. Even more defensive of Romain. If what Black said was true, he’d been acting on erroneous information when he shot and killed Moreau.
But part of her couldn’t help believing Black. Someone other than Moreau had killed Adele Fornier. It was the man who’d sent her the note. A man who was very definitely alive.
“Why couldn’t Huff see what you saw?” she asked. “Wasn’t he concerned about those irregularities?”
“Like I said, Huff was so convinced he had the right culprit, he was blind to everything else. And let’s be honest. Solving such a high-profile crime wouldn’t hurt his career. He wasn’t above a little ambition. He wanted a conviction, and he did what he could to get it. I blame him and not Fornier for Moreau’s death.”
“So that’s why you informed on him.”
Throwing his cigarette on the ground, Black grabbed her arm in one lightning-quick move. “I didn’t inform on him. I kept my mouth shut, okay?”
Obviously, she’d touched a sensitive spot. Or he was slightly deranged.
Jasmine glared at his fingers. “Let go.”
“Don’t try to tell me about things you don’t understand.”
She met his glittering gaze. “I said let go. Now.”
“Or what?” His warm breath fanned her cheek, smelling like tobacco. “What’s a little gal like you gonna do?”
“Press charges for assault, if I have to.”
Before he could say anything else, two men stepped out of the lounge. Jasmine glanced over at them, ready to cry for help, but he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“You’re gonna wind up getting hurt, you know that?” he said.
“Another threat, Mr. Black?”
He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his blue pants. “This isn’t a safe place for a woman to be, especially at night. You’d better get out of here.”
She wanted to leave. She felt a barely tethered aggression in this man, and it frightened her. But she wasn’t finished yet. “Why would Huff blame you if you didn’t do it?”
“He’s convinced I did. Just because I didn’t agree with the conclusions he drew during that search. Just because I tried to make him see there was something more going on.” He spat at the ground. “It’s thanks to him that I’m rotting out here doing nothing all night.”
Or maybe Huff was right, and it was Black who’d enabled a child killer to walk free, causing a grieving father to snap. “If it wasn’t you who snitched, who was it?” she asked.
“Moreau’s mother, I guess,” he said sulkily.
“Huff claims she wasn’t there.”
“She wasn’t. At least I didn’t see her. But Moreau could’ve told her, right?
That’s not too much of a stretch. Or maybe it was someone else. I wasn’t the only cop on that search. Kozlowski and Brenner were both there. They could’ve leaked it.
Maybe someone overheard them talking at the station.”
Jasmine found it odd that Kozlowski hadn’t mentioned his own involvement.
But Black’s next statement raised even more questions.
“For that matter, it could’ve been Fornier’s brother-in-law.”
“His brother-in-law?” she repeated.
“Yeah. He’s some hotshot attorney from Boston who was nosing around.
Fornier thought he was trying to help, but the guy kept getting in the way.”
The rain came down harder. Shielding her face with one hand, Jasmine considered this revelation. “You’re saying he might’ve stumbled on the information and accidentally allowed it to get out?”
“Or maybe not so accidentally. From what I heard, he wanted his niece found, but there wasn’t much love lost between him and Fornier.”
“What was the source of the contention between them, do you know?”
His eyebrows knitted as if he was irritated by the question. “I have no idea.
I’m just telling you it was there.”
“Then…with so many other possibilities, why does Huff insist it was you?”
“Because Huff doesn’t know his head from his ass. He botched that case, so he pointed the finger at me. I’m the scapegoat. Don’t you get it?”
Jasmine “got” that Black was jealous of Huff. He’d aspired to the position of detective but hadn’t made it, although he clearly considered himself superior. Was he telling her the truth, or had he been trying to push Huff from his pedestal by derailing the investigation? “Where did Moreau live when you did the search?” Jasmine asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
A gust of wind blew her hair around her face. “Because I do.”
Clicking his tongue, Black shook his head. “You have to see it for yourself, right? What I’ve said isn’t enough.”
She didn’t bother responding to that. “Can you tell me how to get there?”
“Sure. But you won’t find anything new. I opened the trapdoor to prove my point the night I discovered it was sealed shut.”
Maybe she wouldn’t find anything beyond the marks on the lintel Black had mentioned. But she might feel something. Her abilities sometimes worked that way.
“I need to be able to get the setting straight in my mind.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “Like I told you, I have no personal stake in the case.”