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I didn’t want a lawyer, didn’t want them to think I was guilty, even though I knew the textbooks said not to talk once you got your Miranda. My instincts and my i
I told the cop what happened. I swore it was the truth. I had no idea how there could have been blood on my steering wheel. She had bumped her head. Lightly. I shoved her away. Not hard, no. I never saw blood, but maybe it was possible. Yes, I had a tackle box for fishing. I thought I had a fillet knife, why? No, I didn’t know her at all.
“Then why were you there?” he asked.
I opened my mouth and stopped. Outside the room, I could hear a muffled burst of laughter from somewhere over in the detectives’ offices. People’s lives going on as if mine didn’t matter. The detective clicked his pen. Open. Shut. Open. Shut. My face felt hot. My armpits were sweating.
“Can I take off my jacket?” I asked.
“Why were you there?” he asked again.
I closed my eyes. I could see Roger Williamson’s blue skin. Smell that hospital room.
You tell no one. Will you promise me that?
“I made a promise,” I said, opening my eyes.
The detective cocked his head and partially closed one eye. His lip and the mustache above it quivered slightly.
“I can’t,” I said. “I have to think. I’d better talk to a lawyer. A criminal lawyer…”
“You can’t tell me why?” he said.
“Mi
He tilted his head the other way.
“I asked for a lawyer,” I said. “You’re permanently barred from asking me another question. That’s the case law…”
“You’re go
I looked away from him. The red eye of the tape recorder stared at me until he clicked it off. He snatched it up and stood, holding it in his freckled fist so that the skin was stretched smooth across his knuckles.
He left and I sat for a long time. I was begi
He was a well-built little man-like a gymnast-with curly blond hair, a tan furrowed brow, and hazel eyes. I’d seen him before somewhere, angry, and not looking quite so elfish. He smiled at me suddenly, as if someone had cued him to do it. When he held out his hand, I shook it.
“I’m Dean Villay,” he said. “District attorney.”
He turned the chair around and sat down, leaning toward me. He wore a gray double-breasted blazer with brass buttons and gray slacks with grass stains at the cuffs. If he had a tie, it was gone. On the collar of his white shirt was a small chocolate-colored stain.
“I asked for my own lawyer.”
He flicked his hand in the air, swatting the notion away.
“They told me you cited Mi
I felt a wave of relief. Finally, someone with some sense, some understanding of just how ludicrous this all was. Wasn’t the DA an elected official? Yes. Political allies? Even from the other party, we very well could be…
I shook my head, smiling now.
“You don’t know how crazy this was getting,” I said with a laugh.
He laughed too. His round cheeks were flushed and I noticed that his tie was dangling from the side pocket of his blazer. I wanted to hug him.
“Sorry,” he said. “Cops are cops. But we’ve got to get this straightened out. They’ve got a bloody knife that they’re pretty sure was the murder weapon.”
“A fishing knife?”
“Yes.”
“They asked me about that. I have no idea. I have one in my boat, but…”
“Jesus, Raymond,” he said, rubbing one hand from his forehead down the length of his face. “This is not good.”
“But it wasn’t me,” I said, my hands clenched.
“I believe you, but what the hell were you doing there?” he said. “People are going to want to know.”
“You can keep this quiet, right?” I said, lowering my voice and leaning toward him. “I mean, if you check this out, you’re the DA, you can keep this part quiet, but push the investigation the other way and find out who really did this, right?”
“Of course,” he said, leaning still closer.
I looked around, even though the room was a five-by-ten-foot closet and the door was shut.
“I promised someone I’d give her an envelope,” I said, in a low tone. “I have no idea what was in it. It had nothing to do with me getting the nomination. But the girl, she said she was having an affair with Roger Williamson.”
When that news hit him, the legs of the chair hit the floor and squeaked. His mouth opened, but he quickly put his top teeth over his lip and leaned back toward me again, although not as close.
“He was the one who asked me to deliver the envelope,” I said, whispering. “I saw him the day before he died. He asked me not to say anything to anyone. Just give it to her as soon as I got back from New York.”
Villay looked away and slowly nodded his head as he chewed his lower lip. He stood up suddenly and held out his small hand again.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s it. That’s easy. I’ll go and find the envelope and that’s going to go a long way to help you here. You delivered the envelope and you left. The knife, I don’t know, maybe the real killer planted it.”
“And you can keep the fact that I told you about the letter between you and me?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, smiling and tapping the side of his head. “You don’t get to where I’m at without keeping a few secrets.”
13
EVEN IN SPECIAL HOUSING, which is the box, they will give you an hour of recreation. Time to breathe fresh air and walk in circles. Off by yourself. On a rooftop surrounded by a high fence crowned with concertina wire.
I don’t go there.
I don’t want to see the sky. I don’t want to feel the wind on the back of my neck or the chill of snowflakes pricking my face. I am like an alcoholic who can’t bear to have a single mouthful of drink. I don’t want to even think about freedom and so I don’t want to taste even the foam from that glass.
During the days before my trial I was out on bail, consumed with proving my i
The lawyers and private investigators I had hired figured it all wrong. Our focus was on finding out who would have wanted Celeste Oliver dead. Whoever really killed her had obviously taken advantage of my visit to divert the blame for the murder to me. The company she kept left us with an endless selection of possibilities. We tried to track them down. Drug dealers. Bikers. Businessmen cheating on their wives. Even some small-time mobsters. Our leads went nowhere. It wasn’t until too late that I realized that it wasn’t about Celeste Oliver at all. It was only about me.
I heard things during that time that I didn’t bother to process. I was in denial. Because I was i