“You know her well?” Virgil asked.
“Not well, but I knew her from the coffee shop. She always seemed nice, always had a good word for cops.”
They walked across the street toward the shop, and Virgil said, “Stay loose.”
“I’ve actually got my hand on my gun; it’s in my parka pocket,” Pweters said.
Virgil stopped and said, “Shoot. Hang on here a second.”
He went back to the 4Runner, popped the back door, got his Glock out of the gun safe, and stuck it in his parka pocket.
When he got back to Pweters, the deputy said, “Remind me not to call you for backup.”
Virgil stepped up to the shop door, pressed a doorbell, then pounded on the door for a few seconds.
Pweters asked, “Honest to God, did you forget to take your gun?”
Virgil took his gloves off, shoved them in the other pocket, and said, “Maybe.”
—
Awindow popped open overhead, and Fitzgerald shouted, “We’re closed.We’re closed!”
“It’s Pweters,” Pweters shouted back. “Come on down and open up. Me’n Virgil need to talk to you again.”
“About what?”
“Open up, and we’ll tell you.”
The window slammed shut, a light came on in the shop area, and a moment later they heard Fitzgerald stomping down the interior stairs. He turned on another light, and they could see he was wearing a sweatshirt and cargo shorts and leather slippers.
“Hand on the gun?” Pweters asked out of the side of his mouth.
“Won’t need it,” Virgil said, as he watched Fitzgerald approach the door. “This feels wrong. He’s too...”
“Disheveled,” Pweters suggested. “Psychologically unfocused.”
“That’s it,” Virgil said. “He might have killed Hemming, but he didn’t do Moore.”
“So what are we doing here?” Pweters asked, as Fitzgerald fiddled with the door lock.
“Wrong question,” Virgil said. “The right question is, ‘Whatdidhe do?’ I know he didsomething.”
—
Fitzgerald was physically, if not psychologically, disheveled, and sleepy. He opened the door, heavy-eyed, scowling, and asked, “What do you want now?”
Virgil asked, “Where were you an hour ago?”
“Here,” he said, “watching TV. I was asleep, with the TV on, when you started banging on my door.”
“Anybody with you?”
“No...”
“What was on?” Virgil asked. “What was on TV? What were you watching?”
“CNN... the talking heads,” he said.
