Page 65 of And Still Her Voice
Oh, my God! My body prickled.
“It’s been awhile. Why? Are they okay?”
“Is Charley alright?” Grandma asked.
“I wouldn’t know. Who’s Charley?” Tall cop asked.
“My dad,” I said, recovering quickly. “I call him Charley.”
The cop shrugged. “I’m just trying to establish—corroborate—again, where were you last November?”
My heart quaked. “Let me think. I keep a little diary in my purse.”
The shorter officer left the room.
“When did you, Mr. Hatchet, and Mr. Nolan first hook up?”
“Mr. Nolan?”
“Levi Nolan.”
So that’sRiver’s name.“A couple years ago in San Francisco.”
“What do you know about Levi?”
Apparently, not enough. “He’s from Iowa.”
And what do you know about Anthony Hatchet?
“Tony?” I wouldn’t tell them I knew he was AWOL. “I think he’s from Philadelphia, right around here some place. I think he’s got friends and family here.”
The short cop returned with my purse and handed it to the taller cop who then handed it to me. Hand shaking, I took out my little diary and opened it up, flipping through the month of November 1968. I looked up into the interrogating cop’s face and closed the little book. “It shows we were here. We had a gig over at Eagle Tavern.”
We’d performed in front of some soldiers who’d just returned from Vietnam. Grandma had been so excited. She said it remindedher of the time she performed for some troops in France. I’d pounded on the piano to shut her up.
The tall cop then pulled out a picture of a soldier. “Do you recognize him?”
I looked at the picture of a young, dark-haired man in uniform. “No.”
I did remember how after the concert, Tony had stayed behind, I’d assumed to catch up with an old friend over a couple of beers. The rest of us packed up our stuff and went back to our hotel.
“Marine Corps Cpl. Corriveau was found dead along the Pennsylvania Turnpike with a stab to the heart.”
I spiraled down, confused. What did this have to do with me?
“Allegedly, he was a friend of Anthony ‘Tony’ Hatchet. We think Anthony had something to do with it.”
My lips parted, but no words came out. Again, what did this have to do with me? Oh my God. Had River been involved? I’d never know what Tony thought he saw at Steinway’s.
***
After several agonizing hours, River and I were released, but River had been beaten and bruised, his eye swollen, a cut on his forehead.
“What happened?” I asked River.
“Don’t ask?”
They’d retained Tony, placing him under arrest for the murder of the young Marine.While we waited for one of the crew to come pick us up in the van, River and I compared information.
