The days following James’ arrest, I learned about my situation. I received many calls from the county jail so that James could update me on the investigation. The charges for robbery had not been filed against anyone, but they felt they had their man, and questioned him endlessly for several days. They wanted to know who his partner was. They offered leniency if he were to cooperate and give them a name. We laughed at that — obviously James was the criminal. Whoever this mystery person turned out to be, he was just a follower, if not a reluctant participant. But I was advised to lay low, because they had some evidence having to do with my apartment building. Apparently James had previously used it as his home address, leaving a trail that could eventually lead to me. Scary. But still, I hadn’t yet been considered a suspect. I was not a known criminal. I was ghostly white and painfully thin and almost seven feet tall. Hardly the description of the man they were after.
Now enter into the story one Stephen May. He had been a close friend of ours for several years. A bit older than me, but very much a regular in our crowd. During the time of feast — while the robberies were still paying off and going well — Steve had driven a second getaway car for one of the bigger heists. James and I had robbed a City National Bank at a shopping mall, and when we left, I had jumped into the driver’s seat of the first getaway car. We had careened away while removing overshirts and makeup, and drove only as far as the other side of the huge mall parking area, where Steve had been waiting in my baby blue El Dorado. We left our “disguises” in the throw-away vehicle and Steve drove us calmly away. He was a trusted ally. After that robbery, as a matter of fact, I had bought him a small travel trailer that he and his girl could live in out at the fairgrounds trailer park. We were close.
After James was arrested, Steve had been using the El Dorado quite often. I allowed this because I had my Chevy pickup truck, and he needed wheels. One night while he was driving down the freeway to deliver some drugs in the El Dorado, he was pulled over. He was found to be on parole and was subsequently searched and detained in a police car. The officers at the scene proceeded to tear the car apart. They found three $20 bags of methamphetamine. As an ex-convict, he was going back to prison, guaranteed. As a man, he was broken. He stated, without being asked, from the back seat of the cruiser, “I know who’s been doing all those bank robberies.”
The officer turned and asked how he knew.
“I drove this El Dorado as a getaway car for one of them.”
Now the officer was really interested.
