Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 77.4: 1968, Georgina

Chapter 77.4: 1968, Georgina

"Paulie didn't kill Miracle. He was upstate. We know that."

"I know we know that. I'm not trying to say he did. Of course not. But he was her drug dealer. He told me so. Around Christmas?"

"I don't care about that. He went into rehab in March, right? That means he wasn't her drug dealer when it happened. It doesn't matter. What matters is why she was there, why Antony did that-" Sasha let out a suffering groan and raised his joint to his lips, took another long drag. It hurt me to see it, but he had to do it. What was worse was that I could feel myself getting a secondary high from his smoke. I was trying to ignore it. Had been for two hours as he smoked joint after joint. He hadn't asked me if I wanted any, though. He knew I didn't.

The window was open, providing a cool breeze that kept ruffling my hair. The smoke was going out of it, one of Paulie's floor fans breezing away, too, but not enough. 

I hated drugs so much. But this was different. The joint didn't seem like it was hurting Sasha, in fact it seemed like the only thing that could calm him down enough to have any sanity. Especially after what I'd told him an hour ago about Paulie and Miracle. And now he was telling me these things. It was dumbfounding me.

"But if he hadn't been her drug dealer, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. If she hadn't been on heroin then maybe..." I couldn't say it. Maybe she'd still be alive.

"Yeah? And how do we know that heroin had anything to do with her death? Antony didn't say anything about drugs. That's something police assumed since they found it on her. That's what Ganya wants...wants heroin to be a part of it so that if we can find out the Caselottis dealt it...Killed her because of it..." He gave a slight cough, more like a choke I thought, then put the joint back in his mouth. He looked troubled, but of course he did.

"Wants?" I said this slowly, not wanting to. 

"Yeah, he wants to find a reason to get them. Heck, we know Antony killed her. We know there were other people involved that night, too. We know he couldn't have done it himself. He's puny. You know that." He rested his hand on the edge of the couch, the joint resting there. I was watching it and I didn't even realize.

"No, I don't know that. I've never met him. Never seen him before."

"Oh." He looked at the joint, too, as if trying to decide something. His brow creased. He lifted the joint back to his mouth, on the edge, but he didn't take a drag. "What I want to know," he went on, quieter now, "is who else was involved? We know where Eddie was just hours before, but did he get there, was he there..." I'd winced at what he'd said about knowing where Eddie had been, a phantom pain of the pistol's barrel. But Sasha hadn't been looking at me, rather at the distance, so he hadn't caught it. "They let Antony go because there wasn't enough hard evidence. They think he was trying to take the fall for somebody else..but that ring impression on her face. What he said in jail. I don't think they're right."

He opened his mouth again, and I was listening with rapt attention, but before he could get anything out there was knock on the door. My hands gripped the armrests of my wheelchair, and he stared at me. The knock came again and we stared at the door together, confusion coming over us.

Shave-and-a-hair-cut? The knock beat out. 

That wasn't our knock. 

"Shit," Sasha whispered desperately at me. Heavily he got up, went to the ash tray that he'd set up on the side table next to himself and stubbed out the joint as quickly as he could. Next to it, he took up the baggie it had came in and threw it in there, stuffed it down his pants. He began to wave the marijuana smokey air away with his hand, trying to shove the intangible stuff towards the window without any success.