Read Online Suitable for Framing by Edna Buchanan - Free Book Online Page A

elevator to level two. Stop at the merry-go-round first, then proceed to the food court. Purchase a Coke and sit at a table for two.”
    â€œI’ll wear a white carnation.” I couldn’t resist.
    â€œSay what?”
    â€œNever mind. How will I know you?”
    â€œI know you.”
    â€œWhy do I have to go to the carousel first?”
    â€œSo I can ascertain that you are alone.”
    I sighed. “Okay, how about twenty minutes?”
    â€œFifteen.”
    I got there in ten.
    The pastel painted horses rose and fell in rhythm with the music. A few mothers stood on the revolving platform next to their squealing tots. I had not been instructed on how long I was to watch the carousel ponies, so I waited until the happy music slowed and began grinding to a stop. Then I strolled past book, luggage, and smoke shops to the food court, nearly empty at this time of day. I ordered a soft drink. Did it really have to be a Coke? I wondered. The cooking smells made my mouth water. Would the entire rendezvous abort if I ordered a hot dog? I have little patience with people determined to transform life into Mission Impossible . Everything is already too complicated.
    Boys will be boys, I thought, sipping my soda and wondering if this one would show at all.
    He stepped up and turned the chair facing me around, straddling it. “What’s up?” he said, mimicking the moves of some suave movie hero.
    He was the shy, skinny kid among the raucous group from the video parlor.
    â€œSo we meet again,” I said. “I thought it might be you.”
    He lifted an eyebrow and looked nonchalant, trying hard to be very grown-up. I flipped open my notebook.
    â€œI wrote the story about Jennifer Carey and her little boy.”
    The confidence faded from his shiny dark face.
    â€œShe and her children were hit by the red Trans Am.”
    â€œI know who she is.” His voice was somber. “How is the lady?”
    â€œIf she lives, she’ll probably never be the same. The police know that FMJ—Peanut—was driving. I understand he’s a friend of yours.”
    â€œI might know the dude, I wouldn’t call him a friend. I might know the dude,” he repeated regretfully.
    â€œSeen him today?”
    â€œNo way. I don’t run with that crew.”
    â€œOh? You and FMJ have a falling out?”
    â€œLook that motherfu—that dude’s crazy. I got no business with him, nothing to do with him.”
    We watched each other in edgy silence for a moment.
    â€œYou said somebody was hanging some shit on me for something I didn’t do?”
    â€œYou understand the felony murder rule?”
    â€œI’m familiar with that aspect of the law.” He licked his lips, looking beyond me into the mall. “But you could refresh my memory about it.”
    â€œUnder Florida law, when somebody dies during a felony, like auto theft for instance, then all the people who were involved in that crime are guilty of murder. Even if they didn’t mean to kill anybody. An old lady has a fatal heart attack during a robbery, she’s been murdered. Somebody gets run over by a stolen car, it’s murder. Everybody involved shares equal responsibility.”
    He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Even if it’s an accident?” His voice was low, without bravado.
    â€œThere are no accidents if a crime was in progress.”
    â€œSheesh.” He sat motionless, digesting what I had said.
    â€œEverybody in the Trans Am could be charged with felony murder, even if they were just along for the ride.”
    His eyes looked hollow. “The big one,” he muttered softly.
    â€œThe cops say J-Boy was the front-seat passenger.”
    He looked startled. “They know that?”
    I nodded. Suddenly he scrambled to his feet. I thought he was leaving.
    Instead he fished in his pocket. “You want another Coke? I’ll buy.” Though rail thin, he looked