“We need a damn good reason to miss it,” she says, looking at him hopefully, noting the glint in his eye.
“Sean is in the interview room downstairs, ma’am,” Taylor says to both Sam and Tina.
“The guy who jumped off the bridge?” Sam clarifies, and Taylor nods. “But he died in 2006.” She pulls the timeline from her bag, waves it at Taylor.
“Not like you to be wrong,” Tina says sarcastically, blowing on her herbal tea.Fair, Sam thinks. Tina is still cross with her, and she deserves it.
“But, Denver—”
“Lied to us,” Taylor says. “Again.”
Sean Lister doesn’tsmell good—and not because he’s dead. He’s very much alive but still reeks as though he’s just washed up out of the river. He wears a Harrington jacket and a flat cap, and carries a plastic folder under his arm.
As they take their seats in the empty interview room, Sean removes his cap and reveals a truly dreadful mod haircut. Taylor starts the digital recorder and makes the introductions.
“I want to do this quick,” Sean says in a Geordie–cockney hybrid. “I’m not dead and, more importantly, I’m definitely not gay. I’ve brought a statement from my girlfriend Lucy saying I’m as straight as they come. Iamthe Sean fromHow to Get Away with Murder,and I’m alive and straight.” He says all this a little breathlessly, pushing his folder across the small steel desk.
“Does the name Charlotte Mathers ring any bells?” Sam asks.
“No,” Sean says.
Sam takes the folder and begins leafing through it. It’s all color-coded, precisely labeled and arranged chronologically.This took a lot of work, she thinks, feeling her old instincts kicking in. She’d grown up watchingJudge Judy,whose motto wasIf something doesn’t make sense, it isn’t true.Sean’s level of effort, and his timing, isn’t making sense to Sam and that makes her very wary.
“Describe for me, in detail, how you know that you’re the Sean inHow to Get Away with Murder?” Taylor asks.
“My name for starters. Plus, everything about my life. My music production course. My ex was a nurse called Jemma who got herself pregnant. My dad and uncle torched thatBrokeback Mountainbillboard. All of that’s true,” Sean says. “Except the gay shit. I’mnotgay. Read the statement from my girl—”
“Why are you here, Mr. Lister?” Sam says, gesturing to the folder. “You’ve put a lot of work into this and you don’t strike me as the altruistic type. You’re not here to help. What’s really going—”
“To set the record straight,” Sean says, folding his arms. “And to tell you lot who Denver Brady really is. I’m here to solve your case.” He puffs out his chest.
“You know who Denver is?” Sam raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Let’s have it, then.”
“I knew him. Jemma was in student digs with his mate. Up in Wallsend. Sometimes Denver came and visited. He was well weird. Weird music. Weird books. Wouldn’t shut up about Ted Bundy—called him Teddy like they were pals. Real bee in his bonnet about Mary Ann Cotton letting him and the North East down. Had a proper crush on Jemma. Once I caught him sniffing her coat what was hanging up.” Sean Lister falls silent, sitting up straighter as if he’s just won a court case.
“So, what’s Denver’s real name?” Taylor asks, and despite her skepticism, Sam finds herself leaning forward, holding her breath.
“Well, I can’t remember his name,” Sean says. Sam rolls her eyes and slumps back in the chair. “We’re going back twenty years or more. He was just a lad that visited sometimes. But it’s him. He’s definitely Denver.”
“Right,” Sam sighs. “Can you at least describe his appearance?”
“Aye…” Sean thinks, then offers, “Good few inches shorter than me. Pale as milk. Sandy hair. Scrawny.” Taylor catches Sam’s eye and she knows what he’s trying to convey: Richie Scott described Denver as tall and dark-haired. Someone—other than Denver—is lying.
“But you don’t remember his name?” she asks. “Not even a first name. Think, Mr. Lister.”
“I have. I can’t remember. But I never forget a face. I’ll ID him no problem and testify against him too, when you catch him. The little weed put me in his book to get back at me for… well…”
“Bullying him?” Sam suggests.
Sean shrugs. “I wasn’t a bully. It was different times back then. I might have put it about that he was gay. I put a few bits on Facebook.”
“You called Denver homophobic names?” Sam asks.
“But that’s just more proof, innit?” Sean argues. “Proof that it’s revenge against me. That I’m a victim.”
“Can you remember the name of the student he visited?” Taylor probes.
“No,” Sean says.
