“It’s not loaded.”
“Good, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Well then, I don’t know what you want from me. I’m doing everyone a favor coming here to demand justice. Demand we get what we deserve. A panel of fair judges. A fair contest.”
“I didn’t come to talk about the contest either, Mr. Perkin. I want to talk to you about Heim.”
He pressed his thin lips together. He was sweating a little too heavily for this cool weather. But then, he was always sweating, always worked up. So that was normal too.
“I don’t have anything to say about him.” His gaze jittered.
That would be a first.
“I’m just wondering where you were last night.”
“Why? Do you think I have something to do with… You think I killed him?”
“I’m just wondering where you were last night,” I repeated calmly.
“I won’t sit here while you prosecute me. I have rights, you know. I don’t have to tell you anything without a lawyer present.”
“Dan,” I said. “Settle down. Of course you have rights. And if you want your lawyer present, I’ll give him a call and have him meet us down at the station so we can do this all formally and on the record. But we can do this friendly too. All I’m asking—all I’m asking—is where you spent your evening. That shouldn’t be a hard thing to remember.”
“Of course I remember,” he said. “I was…I was at Jump Off Jack’s. I went in to talk to Chris, but he wasn’t there. If you ask me, he’s the one you should be talking to. He had plenty of reasons to kill Heim. There was the fish Heim kept shorting him. That’s hard on a place as busy as Chris’s, though why people think his rundown shack is any better than the other bars in town is beyond me. Tourists are half idiot, half stupid.”
“Tourists are the seasonal lifeblood of our town, Dan,” I said. “And it’s those tourists who are going to be trying out all the food and drink at the rally. It’s the tourists who are going to buy the souvenirs and whatnots, fill the hotels, buy the gas. When did you go to Jump Off’s? When did you leave?”
“I don’t have to tell you that. I already answered your question.”
“This is still friendly,” I said. “Answer a few more details and we can keep it friendly. Push me hard, and I will take you on in, lawyer and all.”
He fiddled with the bill of his hat again. I checked his knuckles for signs of a struggle. No blood. No scratches.
But he was more aggravated than usual. Could be the fact that he’d recently had his garden explode on him. Could be he wasn’t coming clean with me.
“You went to talk to Chris around what time?”
“Five,” he said shortly.
“And left?”
“I don’t know. Five thirty.”
“Did you drive?”
“Of course I drove.”
“Did you talk with anyone else when you were there?”
“That do-nothing waitress of his.”
Molly. No love lost there. Ryder had certainly played that card right.
“Where did you go after that?”
“Home.”
“Did anyone see you there?
