Tussinland Read Free Page B

unemployed.”
    “Why is that?”
    “I have a back injury, from a work accident.”
    “Oh, so, you’re one of those, huh?”
    “Whatdya mean?”
    “On workers’ comp?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Just sittin’ around on your ass collecting money? People like you make me sick.”
    “Hey, I have a legitimate claim.”
    “Of course you do. Just looking at you I can tell you are suffering. Big time.”
    “Uh, Detective, really, shouldn’t we be concentrating on how to figure out who killed my wife? I mean, I know I didn’t do it, so let’s just get me cleared so you can move on and I can help you, okay?”
    Fagan stood up. He took a step toward Paul and leaned down, grabbed a front leg of his chair and pulled. Hard. Paul went down on his ass. It hurt like hell.
    The detective leaned over Paul, and, incredibly, held the chair above his head. He glared.
    “What are you? Some kind of hard-ass?”
    “No sir, just asking.”
    “I ask. You answer. Understand?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Good, now get back up and sit the fuck down and tell me where you were yesterday.”
    Paul sat down. He could feel his face darkening with some humiliating version of a blush. He didn’t understand what was happening. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he was a regular citizen and had never been treated like this before.
    “Got up at noon. Then I had breakfast and watched TV until around five, when I left to go run some errands.”
    “Productive.”
    “Uh huh …”
    “Jesus. Don’t you have any ambition?”
    “What does that have to do with anything? I don’t get this shit.”
    “So you just sleep away the day and veg out in front of the TV? That’s the kind of life you want to have? What are you, forty years old?”
    “Hey, I’m only thirty-five.”
    “Could’ve fooled me.”
    “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I’m not totally worthless. I even have a college degree and a teaching credential. But I need to get my back fixed before I can get to working again. That’s all.”
    “Do you have any actual skills?”
    Thought about this for a moment. He shook his head. “Not really. I was a horrible teacher.”
    “Big surprise.”
    “But I’m sometimes good at getting information about stuff, about people, figuring out facts, research, that sort of thing. You know, googling.”
    “No shit?”
    “No shit. Not that it’s ever done me any good. Made me any money or anything.”
    “You know, I’m pretty good at getting information myself. I have a feeling it won’t be very long before I find out that you stand to profit from killing your wife. That is, if you were able to get away with it, which will not happen.”
    Paul looked down. Didn’t know what else to do.
    “So, was anyone else with you at your house, I mean your mother’s house, up until five?”
    “My mother.”
    “Anyone else?”
    He wasn’t sure what to say. That was kind of private. He thought about it for a moment.
    “Mr. Dunn! Anyone else there?” Fagan leaned forward in his chair. Paul covered his face with his hands until Fagan leaned back.
    “My mom had a visitor.”
    “She did? Who?
    “I don’t know his name. Just some guy.”
    “Why was he there?”
    “He came to see my mother, like I said.”
    “What did they do?”
    “I don’t know … just hung out I guess. They were in her room when I got up.”
    “Did he see you?”
    “Yes, when he left he walked past me. I was on the couch watching TV.”
    “And you two didn’t speak?”
    “No.”
    “Your mother had a guest in the house and she didn’t bother to introduce you?”
    “That’s what I’m saying.”
    “And when did this mystery man leave?”
    “I’m not sure, around four or so.”
    “We’ll have to speak with your mother about this.”
    “Okay, good.”
    “Does your mother make it a habit of having strange men over in the middle of the afternoon?”
    “I don’t know. I guess.”
    “Your mother is a fine-looking woman. I think I’ll have to pay her a visit some afternoon, myself.