Lewis nods, and Adam sees that the other detective is writing down everything he says.
“I know Jake as well. He's a photography student but he is also in the computer club.”
“So what were you doing yesterday afternoon?”
“I . . . but . . . afternoon? I thought you would want to know about last night?”
“Just answer the question please Adam.” she says.
“I was, I uh, I cut classes, and I went to the mall.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Uh, I don't know, I just didn't feel like going.”
“Hmmm.” says Lewis, She flips back a few pages in her notebook, reading tiny cramped notes. then she looks up at him.
“But you don't cut classes, do you, Adam.”
“Uh, how?” looking at the notebook in horror, “Has someone been talking about me?”
“That's confidential information, Adam.” she shakes her head, studying him seriously.
“You can tell me, Adam, why did you really cut class yesterday afternoon?”
“Uh, I just did. It had nothing to do with that girl. I just went to the mall. Walked around a while. That's all. Then I got something to eat and came back to campus for the computer club meeting at Kate's house last night.”
Leaning across the table toward Adam, Lewis says softly “I mean you had a perfect record up to yesterday. You never cut classes, Adam.” Lewis frowns at him “Why did you pick yesterday to cut?”
“I just . . . I just did, that's all.” He reaches into his interior jacket pocket and pulls out a wallet, and opens the billfold, rifling through receipts. He tosses one on the table in front of Lewis.
“There. You see, I was at Pad Thai Palace. That proves I was at the mall.”
“Maybe. If the clerk remembers you.”
From behind Adam, Wolfrom asks quietly. “Did you see Boris kiss Natasha at lunch? Or how about when she hit him, Adam. Which part got you all excited?”
Swivelling around Adam says, “Yes. No. I mean I saw her hit him but no it didn't . . . I mean I don't care about that girl. I don't know her. She's not even attractive. She's short. She's got red hair. Why would I? I could never get excited about someone like that.” Face flushed with fury, Adam stands up and glares at Wolfrom. “Just leave me alone!”
Lewis says quietly, “Adam, sit down. You do not have an alibi. Even if the clerk remembers you, it does not cover you, do you understand that?”
Adam looks down at her, frowning. She gestures for him to sit back down, and he does. “Look, we need to know where people were to eliminate them. Did you see anyone you know at the mall?”
Adam shakes his head “no”.
Wolfrom asks, “Did you buy anything else?”
“No,” Adam says in a small voice.
“Why did you cut classes, Adam?”
He sighs deeply, staring intently at the plastic wood grain tabletop, “I was upset about a girl . . . a different girl. A beautiful one.” Following the pattern of the plastic wood grain with his eyes. Mesmerizing. “I just had to go away. I was in the Sony store in the mall almost the whole time. I didn't buy anything.”
“So they might remember you.”
Adam shakes his head sadly. “People don't.”
Lewis and Wolfrom exchange glances.
“Can I go?”
Lewis nods, “Yes, we're done here, for now, Adam.”
Adam gets up and pushes his way out the door before they can change their minds.
Wolfrom shakes his head in admiration. “That was good, that notebook thing. How did you know?”
“You saw the guy's tie. Any tighter he couldn't breathe. Guys like that don't cut class just 'because'. There's always a reason.”
“So there's a girl. Maybe our girl stumbled across his path when he was messed up over his girl.”
“Could be. Just he seemed genuinely surprised we were looking at the afternoon, He thought he needed a night time alibi. That makes me doubt right there.”
“Except you know he's smart. These kids are like rocket scientists, you know? Would it be so hard to play us?”
“Asshole.” She shakes her head, “Get the next one in.”
chapter 74 . . .
Jose slumps into the plastic interview chair, lacing his fingers together on top of his head, knees spread, legs crossed at the ankles, he gives Lewis a big shit eating grin.
She finds herself smiling back.
“So, Jose. Or is it Joe?”
“I'll answer to either. I'm easy, just not cheap.” Jose grins, as if it wasn't a joke older than he is.
Keeping it neutral, Lewis asks, “What do you prefer?”
“My name is Jose, but you can call me whatever you want, whenever you wanna call me.”
Wolfrom rolls his eyes from his position leaning against the door. He crosses his arms because he's feeling an impulse. A strong impulse. To slap the guy. He can't remember the last time he wanted to hit a citizen this bad. This kid is downright disrespectful. You can smell the cannabis seeping out of his pores and polluting the air.
“Alright, Jose. How well do you know Natasha?”
“Okay, I guess. Not real well.” Jose takes his hands down and rests them on the table.
Jose says, “We're both in Fyfield House but I'm an English major, she's in Photography. There isn't much crossover. I mean we say 'hey' but Boris and Natasha are the real deal, you know, like this.” He crosses his fingers. “They mostly stuck to themselves. Never see one without the other, you know.”
“So where were you yesterday afternoon then, Jose.”
“I wasn't feeling very good. My stomach was a little off, tell you the truth, I think it was the crap lunch from the caf, you know, fish surprise. I felt pretty raunchy so I went back to the Res to take it easy.”
“Did you see anyone there?”
“Naw. Seemed like everybody else was in class, so I just went to my room.”
“Do you have a room mate?”
Grinning suggestively, Jose says, “I sleep alone, Officer.” Wolfrom wants to hit the little creep even more for hitting on Lewis. She's a nice looking lady, but she's old enough to be the little shit's mother, ferchrissake. That's bad enough. What's worse is that Lewis is eating it up.
Smiling back, Lewis says, “All I'm interested in is what you were doing yesterday, Jose.”
Jose shrugs, “Well, since I was feeling like sh . . . uh, bad, I tried sleeping but I wasn't tired or anything, so I ended up going online most of the afternoon, catching up my Facebook. I hadn't been on in a while 'cause of school stuff, you know, so I was online most of the afternoon.”
“Jose, we might have to come back to you if things don't check out, but I think you're all right for now.”
“Okay, cool. That's it then?”
Lewis nods and watches him gather himself and shoot her a smile on the way out. Wolfrom closes the door on him and turns back to the partner.
“I can't believe what I just saw!”
Lewis frowns at him, “What?”
“You were practically drooling, I couldn't believe it.”
“Oh hey, get off it, he's a hunk, that's all. He was flirting, and his pheromones were definitely speaking to me, I'll tell you that. But he's a kid, Wolfie. Oozing sex maybe, but just a kid.”
“The guy reeked of pot, doesn't that tell you something?”
“Yeah, it probably means he was scared to death so he smokes a joint to get the nerve to come talk to the scary cops.”
“I dunno, he didn't look nervous.”
“Isn't that the idea? Just give it a rest Wolfie. If you're worried don't be. I'm a big girl. I can look without touching. But even if I was into cradle robbing, which I am not, it damn sure wouldn't be with any subject under investigation.”
“Good. Had me worried.”
chapter 75 . . .
Sitting side by side going through the images that have been submitted for the Christmas slide show, glancing over, Ethan is a little s
urprised at how fast Liz is whizzing through the images.
“Uh, Liz. Aren't you picking any?”
“No. They're all mostly crap.”
“But we know that going in. There's probably only gonna be a couple of photographs. We're not looking for photographs, here, we're picking snapshots, babe, not art.”
Liz frowns. “How do you mean?”
“This is more like a yearbook kind of thing, you know, candids of the student body, dances, pubs, fooling around, like that. Most of the pictures are going to be taken by people who can barely turn on a camera. Doesn't matter. We'll run 'em fast to some snappy music from Jamendo and it'll be a slide show.”
“Oh.” Liz mouses over to the recycle bin and chooses 'select all'to restore hundreds of deleted images.
Ethan is aghast. “You've been deleting stuff?”
“Yeah, I thought, I mean they're just digital copies.”
“Doesn't mean that everyone who submitted doesn't get a credit. Some people will want their pictures back. Mol suggested we put everything online forever. I don't know if that'll fly, but we don't toss anything no matter how bad.”
“Then how do we make selections?”
“Put all the good stuff—” he notes her grimace and grins before continuing, “okay, the better stuff, in a first cut folder.”
Liz covers her face with her hands. “Sorry sorry sorry.”
“Look, it's okay, this is a bad time.” Ethan swivels over and reaches out, enfolding Liz in his arms. “Maybe it'd be an idea to go back to the Res and get some sleep.”
She looks up and says, “I can't. I close my eyes and I see Natasha laying there all covered in blood like she was. I can't get it out of my mind.”
“Then why don't we head over to the hospital and see how she's doing?” asks Ethan.
chapter 76 . . .
“You live in Fyfield House with Natasha Panov?
Though she's paying more attention to her notebook than to him, Oscar smiles at the woman detective.
“Yes, although the ladies sleep on the floor above, the lads sleep downstairs.”
Now she looks up to ask, “Is that a problem?”
Oscar laughs nervously. He doesn't dare tell her the joke that's popped into his head, not to the filth. For a man who's never at a loss for something to say, he is now. What's she written in that book of hers already? It would make anyone nervous. The not knowing. God.
“No. It's fine. Most everyone contrives to be out most of the time.” She writes it down, but doesn't say anything, pensively reading over what's already written. What if they find him out?
He doesn't know if he could stay here if it came out. Damn. Oscar feels the discomfort level increase exponentially. Understanding it is just an interrogation technique doesn't help, and suddenly the oppressive silence is more than he can bear.
Oscar says, “We go out when we can, to the pub, computer lab, library or the caf. Sometimes Callaghan's or a film for a change. Mostly people only stay in when they're short of funds.”
“What's your relationship with Natasha Panov?” asks the male detective standing behind him. Oscar fancies he can feel the man's glare of the on the back of his neck. Disconcerting. Oscar has to twist around to address him.
“There isn't one, then, is there, other than that we're both in Fyfield. To be perfectly honest, this is the first I've heard her surname. Don't really know her, you see.”
“She's not your girlfriend?” Detective Wolfrom asks.
“No, no, nothing like that. She's always with that weight lifter. They're both in the photography program, aren't they.”
Wolfrom says, “You'd like to get to know her a little better though.”
Oscar shrugs. “I rather doubt we've anything in common. Girl didn't even come to the Ubuntu party.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Not that it's anyone's business, but my own, but no. No, I don't.”
“Are you gay?”
“Certainly not, “Oscar says, “Just I'm rather more interested in getting a degree at the moment.” Oscar meets the man's eye, starting to feel a bit more confident. “There's actually very little fraternization.”
The woman detective snorts derisively; Oscar turns back to her as she says, “That's not what we've been hearing. It sounds as though there's a lot of fraternization.”
Oscar is getting angry. This is absurd. He's not some stupid kid for them to push around, he is a bloody grown up. He served in the 31st Southern Brigade for godsake. Why is he letting these wankers make him feel like a child? Shite. Don't get angry. Stay calm, and answer their questions.
Taking a deep breath, Oscar decides it would be better get it over so life can get back to normal. Or as normal as it can get.
“Oh, there's a fair bit 'o that in the Res, but it's cross program fraternization I was meaning. There's not so much as you'd think between students in the photography and computers, considering photography has gone digital, you see.”
“That's all very interesting, but that's not what makes me curious.” The woman detective narrows her eyes at him. “What makes me curious is why you would come here.”
“Christie is a very good school.”
“Still, it's a long way from Tipperary.”
“Seeing the world is a fine part of getting an education.”
The woman studies him carefully. Oscar can feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. Damn. Damn and damn. “Still, you could have gone to university in Ireland for free. Christie is expensive for foreign nationals. It doesn't make sense.”
Oscar can feel his jaw tightening. This one's done some homework. The question is, how much. Does she know? He stares back, examining her. Looks like it is still a question.
“There were some family issues. I'd rather not say.”
She frowns. “That could mean any number of things.”
Oscar asks, “Why can't you just leave me in peace?”
She answers quietly, “Because there has been a particularly brutal attack on one of your classmates.”
Studying her he decides she probably doesn't know. Yet. But if he tries to lead her along the garden path, she'll see it. And then she'll find out anyway. He sighs heavily. Father Ted always said confession was good for the soul. Maybe.
“Can what I tell you be kept in confidence?”
The woman shrugs. “It depends. If it isn't material to the investigation, we'll do our best to be discreet. But.”
“Anything can happen in a paramilitary organization,” Oscar nods. “I know the drill. Army Reserve in Limerick was where I got into computers.”
From behind him, the man says, “Family issues?”
Oscar wonders if the chip on his shoulder is playing havoc with his judgement. He thought it was all over. An ocean away. Maybe it will never go away. Like they say, you can run but you can't hide. “Yes, family troubles.” Oscar deflates back into the chair. “Do your best to keep it to yourselves then.”
Breaking eye contact with a sigh, Oscar leans back and closes his eyes before continuing. “My family was what they call dysfunctional. Textbook. My Da was crazy jealous of my Ma.” Oscar stops a moment, takes a deep breath and decides, fuck it.
They'll find it out anyway. Better from him, and be done with it. “One fine day me Da up and killed her . . . murdered me Ma, strangled her with his hands.”
Oscar opens his eyes, and sits up straighter, as though relieved of a weight. “See the world, Ma used to say, and if you must know, that's what it was that brought me here. After that there was nothing there for me. My sainted sister visits the bastard every weekend but as far as I'm concerned he can rot in hell, thanks. To be honest, I don't want to talk about this shite, so I left. No one here knows any of it and that's how I want it to stay.” Oscar glares at the cop defiantly. She looks stunned. He asks, “So is that it then? Can I go?”
Lewis nods, says, “I'm sorry for your loss. We may have more questions later, but you can go.”
; Oscar leaves with alacrity, pushing his way past the man, striding into the hall, pushing out the door into the fresh air. Heading down the path, he fumbles in his pockets for the cigarette case. The one he inherited from Ma. Right now he doesn't care who sees him smoking. Even Maggie.
He fookin' needs it.
chapter 77 . . .
Lewis asks, “Any more?” as Wolfrom opens the door and peers out.
“Just one.” Wolfrom beckons, and Quentin gets up then comes in, taking the empty seat across from Lewis. He looks at them expectantly.
“Hey, how's it going? Have you got a bead on the guy yet?”
Wolfrom and Lewis exchange glances, then Lewis says, “The investigation is ongoing. I'm sure you understand.”
“Okay, sure. Can you tell me how Nat's doing?” he asks.
“Sorry, you'll have to get that information from the hospital.” Answers Lewis curtly. “And you are?”
“Quentin Bradbury. Photography, I know Natasha.”
“I don't remember your name from the residence.”
“I'm in Res, just not at Fyfield.” The cop looks confused, so Quentin explains, “My wife and I live in a cottage. I helped Jake and Liz find Nat, and I already spoke to officers at the hospital last night, no I guess it was this morning.”
Lewis flips through paperwork. When she finds his original statement she nods and skims it. “You spoke with PC McKay?”
“Yeah. I was wondering do you have any leads?”
“We're looking . Any idea who might have done this?”
“No. It just blows my mind. I hope you get the prick.”
“So what can you tell us about Natasha?” she asks.
“She's a great girl, anybody knows that girl likes her. She's feisty, and there's definitely a mouth on her, but she's real, you know? Not a damn mean bone in her body.”
“No ex-boyfriend? Bad blood with room mates, like that?”
“She's just . . . here let me tell you what I mean. I've been having a tough year. Okay, I have to say it was really dumb to get married before college, you know. Well, I know now, anyway. Too many big adjustments all at once. So I've been screwing up. My marriage is on the rocks, my work has been for shit, I'm been drinking too much. But Natasha, she doesn't judge, you know? The gal finds me passed out the other night and she doesn't call security, she kicks me awake and drags me back to the Res and shoves me into the shower. When I come to she sat beside me holding my hand while I threw everything up. Then she sits up all night with me, just talking. Or letting me talk, really. And I don't know how she did it or anything. Maybe just by letting me talk, cause she never even told me what to do.”
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