***
Eddie stepped off the trolley and came up the street towards Aron's. Right away, he saw a crowd of people waiting outside and knew Mr. LaRue had been found. For a moment, he thought of turning around and going the other direction. On the trolley ride over, he had considered how to explain his not calling the police the night before. The only story he was able to come up with was what he had talked to Herman about. The image of McBride telling him that nothing happened ran through his mind every time he tried to come up with a different explanation. For now, he would have to do his best to convince himself that he saw nothing. Hopefully, the police would believe him.
He approached the crowd and asked one of the seamstresses, "What's going on?"
"They found a body. Cops are in there, and they're not letting us in," she said. Eddie was not sure what her name was, but he knew she had worked there for years.
"Who was it?"
"Mr. LaRue," one of the other ladies said. "Mr. Aron found him this morning. He was tangled up in one of the machines, shot through the head. I'm not sure how they're going to fix the machine. I don't want to work next to it any more."
Eddie knew this was a wild rumor they were passing around. There was no sense to it, but he played along. "That's horrible. Any idea why?"
"Probably that tarty girlfriend of his," the first lady said.
"Sure, you know how those design types are," the second lady added.
The door opened, and Mr. Aron and a police officer stepped out. At first, they talked to a few people around them, to which Eddie could tell they received no answer. The policeman then spoke up. "Is there an Eddie Rifken in the crowd?" Mr. Aron corrected him. "Eddie Griffy. Anyone seen him?" Again, Mr. Aron spoke in his ear. "Griffin, Eddie Griffin."
Everyone around Eddie turned and looked at him. He raised his hand. Eddie rehearsed his story in his head as he walked to the front of the crowd.
"There he is," Mr. Aron said when he walked up.
"Follow me," the policeman said.
"Mr. Aron, what's going on?" Eddie asked.
"The prosecutor wants to ask you a few questions," Mr. Aron answered, quietly. Mr. Aron had a brisk walk most of the time, but this morning he seemed to drag along. His business had just been torn apart. Everyone knew how much he cared for his employees, and to lose one like this had to be devastating.
They came up to Mr. Aron's office. "Wait here," Evans said. He continued down to Mr. LaRue's office and spoke to someone inside for a few seconds. A moment later, a man hurried out of the office and down the walkway towards them.
"Eddie Griffin? I'm Jerry Harris, Prosecutor." The greeting was abrupt, with no pleasantries extended. "Let's go in the office and talk a few minutes. Gentlemen," he said to Evans and Mr. Aron, "if you'll give us some privacy?"
Harris closed the door and asked Eddie to sit in the chair by the desk. "Mr. Griffin," Harris said, pulling a chair up by Eddie's, "I'm not sure if you heard what happened here last night."
"Just the rumors outside. They said something about Mr. LaRue?" Eddie felt fairly calm, considering what was happening and who he was talking to.
"Jackson LaRue was murdered in his office last night," Harris said. "Mr. Aron says you worked last night."
"Yes, I did, but I don't remember this. I mean, I certainly would've noticed."
"Go ahead and explain what you did last night, starting from when you first started your duties." Harris took out the small notebook and started jotting down a few notes.
In his mind, Eddie ran through the story he had come up with. "I took about a half hour off after my normal shift to eat. I spent it in the break room downstairs reading a magazine. When I work evenings, I usually start with all the heavy work on the main floor."
"What do you mean heavy work?" Harris asked.
"Clean up the debris, straighten up the benches, maintain the machines, sweep. Then I look for any materials that might be low, and bring them out of the stock room."
"How long does this usually take?"
Eddie had worked out a time of when he would have needed to leave in order to miss the arrival of McBride. "Three or four hours." Harris nodded, and Eddie continued. "Once everything is in order, I begin to clean the offices on the main floor, take out the trash, clean windows, things like that."
"Time?"
"About another hour."
"To be specific, do you remember about what time it was when you finished that part?" Harris asked.
Eddie ran the clock backwards from the time of the shooting. "Around 10:30."
"Ok, continue."
"From there I went upstairs to clean the offices."
"So you went into Mr. LaRue's office."
"He'd been gone for about a week, so there was no need to clean. I went in for a few minutes to see that all was in order."
"Anything changed, at all?" Harris asked.
"I only do this shift about twice a week, but no, there was nothing unusual." Seeing no reaction from Harris, Eddie finished his story. "From there, I finished by straightening up the stock rooms. I left about 12:30."
"Did you go home?"
"I went back to my apartment."
"How well did you know Mr. LaRue?"
"I rarely ever talked to him. He did his work and passed it to Mr. Barger for the layout. I know he traveled often."
"Do you know anything about his personal life? Any rumors?" Harris asked.
Eddie knew that people always talked about the managers of the company. Most of it was nothing more than gossip. "There was a woman he was seeing who would stop by on occasion."
"Was it always the same one?"
"Yes, everyone recognized her."
"Do you know of any problems he had with Mr. Aron or anyone else here?"
"None that I know of. Mr. Aron works well with his employees. I never even remember seeing him get mad."
"We'll need to talk to you later." Harris took a piece of paper out of the notebook and wrote his phone number and office address on it. "Call me at home or at the office if you think of anything else. Thanks for stopping by."
6
It was close to noon before the police had finished with their investigation and cleaned up the office. At first the workers had a difficult time getting back to work. They kept looking up at the office and ignoring the tasks at hand. Talk was rampant, and Eddie was asked repeatedly about what had happened. He told them what he had told Harris, but they seemed to want to hear it over and over. Once the rhythm of production started, they turned their attention away from the office and concentrated on the work.
It was a long day for Eddie, and though he was busy trying to help get production back up to speed, by three on the afternoon he needed to take a break. He stepped out the back door for a moment to take in the fresh air and silence the alley offered. The alley was empty, and except for a few cars driving by on the street, he was by himself. He sat down on a large wooden box about ten feet from the door he had come out of. It was a relief to rest, and he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. When he had come down to Providence a few years before, he had hoped to escape exactly the problem he was in now. His life was starting anew, with a dependable job and night classes. Providence was a decent place to live, and he had hoped to settle down there. Well, Eddie told himself, opening his eyes, there was no way they could pin this on him. Harris would figure it out, though Eddie was not sure how much his lie had bought. He looked down at the right hand that had been in the cutting machine the night before, and vividly remembered anticipating the agony that could have happened. Eddie would need to keep his mouth shut. He was about to get up and return to work when the door opened. Mr. Aron stepped out.
"Sorry sir, I was about to return," Eddie said, standing up.
"Sit down a moment," Mr. Aron said. He sat next to Eddie on the box and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. He was a smallish round man, with thick spectac
les, though he often displayed more energy than his appearance would suggest.
"Thanks," Eddie said. "I needed a break."
"Likewise," Mr. Aron said. "It's one thing to have a designer leave to work at a design house in New York, and another to have one killed in his office."
"I understand. He'll be difficult to replace." People seldom left his employ, and when they did it was only under the best circumstances. The few who Eddie remembered that had left were designers and managers headed for more lucrative positions. The line workers had stayed relatively unchanged for years.
"It's not just that. He had a few relations. Gloria, the young lady he was seeing."
"Sure. I forgot about her."
"You understand," Mr. Aron started to say. He looked at Eddie. "You understand, this may sound selfish, but people I sell to see these types of things, and begin to question the business relationship. I expect orders will begin to drop off."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"In the past ten years, I haven't had to let anyone go because of lack of business."
There was more concern on Mr. Aron's face than losing a valuable and respected person. He looked at the small community he had gathered under him and was now worried.
"Mr. Griffin, did you see anything last night?" Mr. Aron asked.
"No sir, I didn't. It must've happened just after I left. I wished I could've helped the police more."
"You know you left the lights on when you vacated the premises last night and also neglected to punch out."
Mr. Aron had been looking at him when he said this, but then he went back to staring at the wall of the building across from them. Eddie had never forgotten to do those things anytime before. Leaving the lights on? That could have been the killers. But not clocking out looked very odd. "I'm not sure why those things happened."
Mr. Aron got up and said, "Make sure you work with the police. I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble, you know. We've talked about that. Take a few minutes and come back in when you're ready."
Eddie waited until Mr. Aron had gone, then he got up and went back to his duties.