Chapter 28
A long series of interviews ensued. They started on the scene and moved to a CID interview room when it became clear this was much more than a garden-variety shooting. By the time we arrived at the station, my ears were still ringing, but not enough to drown out the cops’ persistent questions.
“And why were you at Fisher’s Pawn?” the detective asked for the third time. A disheveled fellow in a shiny brown suit that matched his hair, he’d told me his name. For a million dollars I couldn’t recall it.
“As I said, I was trying to locate my client, Tina Jackson. I thought Fisher might know where she was.” I nodded at Detective Tamara Harris, a short, solid woman with freckled skin and a mini-Afro. Harris, the investigator on Shanae Jackson’s murder, sat beside Brown Suit, tossing
