CHAPTER FORTY-THREEThe woman gawked at me. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Cut the crap, Marsha. You know who I am. I know who you are. Let’s get real, okay?”
The woman crossed her arms and tilted her head back. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Okay, fine.” I got up in her face. “We can play it your way. It won’t go easy, but once I turn Conroy in to the cops, do you think he won’t spill the beans on you? He’ll be on his knees begging for a plea bargain. And do you suppose part of that plea bargain will involve turning state’s witness against the people who paid him to look the other way while they bribed a witness in a first-degree murder case? Yeah, I’d take that bet—”
“Hey, sis, what’s going on?” The voice from within was familiar and unmistakable.
Marsha looked about r
