If Duncan was taken aback at all, he didn’t show it. “And the clothes?”
“My. Friends. Are. Artists,” I said. Hostile, firm. “We dick around. We experiment. I blue-tack mirror shards to the walls and nobody bats an eye. It’s how I am. It’s how my friends are.”
“I don’t know that they’re so friendly anymore,” Duncan said. “They seemed genuinely taken aback that you’d been arrested for the murder of a child.”
I stiffened.
“Let’s return to the subject of the alibi,” my lawyer said, as if she was reading my posture, changing the subject for my sake. “We can cover these points after. It’s moot if he had a reasonable excuse for being where he was.”
“You ate lunch there yesterday,” Max said. “What?”
“Sandwich and coke,” Evan supplied, somewhat pointlessly.
“Sandwich and coke,” I said.
“The store’s owner helped you out,” Officer Max said. “What did he give you?”
“A chain,” I said, “and rides here and there, including a ride to the park where you found me.”
“And tips,” Evan said.
“He also gave me a bit of advice,” I said.
There were nods from Officer Max and my lawyer. Duncan frowned.
He shifted position, and when he settled again, he had a little salt packet in hand. One of the paper ones that you found in restaurants.
I didn’t wait for him to make a maneuver. The only Other in the room was Evan. I glanced at him, and gestured with one hand.
He disappeared through a wall.
“What advice did they give you, out of curiosity?” Duncan asked.
On runes? Abstract demons?
I couldn’t say that.
“Some stuff on a project I’m supposed to get done today,” I said. “A few tidbits about language…”
“What’s the project?” Duncan asked.
Fuck.
“Does that have anything to do with the alibi?” I asked.
“Could,” Duncan said.
I glanced at my lawyer, but she wasn’t jumping in.
I wished I had a better lawyer, if only because I wanted someone with more of a spine. Someone who would have my back, instead of me having to stand up for myself and keep Duncan from dragging the conversation off track.
“Quite frankly,” I said. “It’s very complicated, and I could be here for some time, trying to explain the ins and outs of it. On a very basic level, though, the project I’m doing has to be kept discreet for a number of reasons-”
“You’re meandering,” Duncan cut in.
Interrupting my flow of thoughts. Hard enough to pick the right words without outright lying.
“I’m doing favors for the sake of a very… eccentric person.”
“Who?” Duncan cut in, again.
“An eccentric, powerful person who most likely wouldn’t appreciate the attention he’d get if I shared his identity.”
“Why?” Duncan asked.
I saw a chance, but stumbled over my thoughts in my efforts to answer the question while getting to my point of attack.
“He’s who he is,” I said. “It’s related to-”
“He is who he is?” Duncan asked. “What kind of answer is that?”
I talked over him, “-the house I inherited. The very same house that has your uncle, Officer Behaim, making my life miserable. Police Chief Laird Behaim of Jacob’s Bell. I thought you weren’t permitted to be here?”
Pressing him on the subject, I saw the connections shuddering within their confines. Him to me, him to this room. Firmly set. Gilded. He’d manipulated something, fixed it all in place.
Nobody picked up on the question. Nothing came of it. I was pushing against a brick wall, here.
“Nevermind that,” he said, dismissive. Maybe a little smug. “Does Evan Matthieu speak to you, Mr. Thorburn?”
“We’re on this again?”
“You’re not answering the questions, necessitating that we ask them again.”
“As I understand it,” I said, “You wanted to know why I was there, with the body. Someone asked me to go there. They also asked you to go there. They-”
He interrupted again, his tone insistent. “Does Evan Matthieu speak to you? Are you involved with occult practices, like speaking to the dead or binding demons, Mr. Thorburn?” he interrupted me.
“Quite frankly,” I said, staying calm, “I’m wondering if this is on the up and up. You’re pressing rather hard on this supernatural thing-”
“You haven’t denied it,” Duncan said.
“-and,” I said, pushing on, “We know you’re Laird Behaim’s nephew, and he’s involved in something hinky, with charges against him for my cousin’s murder, and-”
The connections rattled again. A little harder than before?
“And you’re here right now.”
“With an alibi,” I said. “Why am I still here?”
“It’s thin at best,” he said. “Very little is explained, the woman who came in on your behalf has not named the person who passed on the message.”
“Can you name the person who gave you the tip to walk in the woods and find me there?” I asked “Because as I told my lawyer, this reeks of conspiracy…”
It was thin, a contrived, glancing blow at best, but I wasn’t about to waste time, and I needed to hit his weak point. “… conspiracy like one shady-as-fuck police chief getting his nephew to incriminate someone. How is this okay!?”
Mrs. Lewis had told me that theatrics were important. How you said something could have an impact on the power of a statement.
So I raised my voice, and I slammed my hand down.
With the impact, the bindings around the connections shattered. Ones binding me to the center of the room, me to Duncan Behaim, me to my cell…
And one on the underside of my chair?
Either way, the third time’s a charm.
I saw a dark look cross Duncan Behaim’s face a moment before there was a knock on the one-way mirror to my left.
Duncan stepped out. A moment later, the older police chief came in.
They’re off balance. Take the advantage.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.
“No need for foul language,” the older man said.
“I have an alibi,” I said. I turned to my lawyer. “Don’t I?”
She moved as if stirring from sleep. “Not quite.”
“You remain a prime suspect,” the older man said.
He was delayed in responding. Slightly confused.
Was this a backlash? A price paid, or some kind of penalty? Duty might be compelling him to keep me here, but now the scales that had been tipped in Duncan Behaim’s favor, keeping me here, were helping to drive me out.
“No,” I said. “I think what you mean to say is that I’m the closest thing to a suspect you have. Is it even murder?”
“Those details are private,” he said.
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A place I have an excuse to be in. You’re doing sketchy stuff by sticking that guy in a room with me, when you know there’s something questionable about his uncle and my cousin. There’s the camera, and nobody told me, but I believe it was tampered with, with a suspicious amount of footage missing?”