Jim didn’t look up from his hands, and Spencer thought, wait. He already knows that.
‘Jim, a few more questions about these last three days. You told me you didn’t see Kristina.’
‘No.’
‘Did you go back to her room to see if she was there?’
‘Yes. She wasn’t there.’
‘How many times did you go back?’
‘Once on Monday and once on Tuesday.’
‘What about Wednesday? You know, yesterday?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jim said evasively. ‘I don’t think I went there Wednesday.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. I got busy, I guess.’
‘Did you at any point think it was strange that Kristina was not in her room?’
‘Sometimes she’d disappear. Also it was right after Thanksgiving. I thought maybe she’d gone away and wasn’t back yet.’
‘What about the dog?’
‘What about it?’
The stone wall had come down again. Jim was guarded.
‘Had you seen the dog since Sunday?’
‘Well, of course. I’ve been walking him.’
‘Did you walk him every day?’
‘Yes.’
‘And where did Aristotle stay when he wasn’t being walked?’
‘With me.’
‘That wasn’t strange?’
‘Kristina obviously wasn’t back. I took care of the dog.’
‘You weren’t curious where Kristina was?’
‘I was busy. I didn’t think much about it.’
‘Did you see Albert and Conni after Thanksgiving?’
‘Yes, once or twice.’
‘Did you by any chance ask them where Kristina had been?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just didn’t. I had a lot to do, I was preoccupied.’
Spencer again felt uneasy. ‘Jim. Answer me. Who did the dog stay with for Thanksgiving?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jim said. ‘I mean it. I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean, “I mean it"? Do you mean you didn’t mean it until now when you said “I don’t know"? Because you’ve said “I don’t know’ a number of times. I’m wondering if you said “I don’t know” but meant something else.’
‘No, no,’ Jim said quickly. ‘I mean I gave it no thought before and even now I don’t know. I suppose Conni and Albert took the dog with them.’
‘With them where?’
‘To Conni’s parents’ house. That’s where they went.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Jim, and Spencer felt that after half an hour of interrogation, he knew even less than before. He was so perplexed that he almost forgot the most important thing. Wednesday. Wednesday before an inch of snow fell on somebody’s boots, before an inch of snow fell on a dog who scraped away a hole in the ground to get to his cold mistress.
‘Did you walk the dog on Monday?’
‘Yes, I’m sure I did.’
‘Did you walk him on Tuesday?’
‘Yes, I had to. He was with me.’
‘Did you walk him on Wednesday?’
There was the briefest pause, and then Jim said, ‘Yes, I suppose I did.’
‘You remember where you walked him?’
‘All around. I really don’t remember.’
‘Where do you usually walk him?’
‘All over, I guess. We go to the river sometimes.’
‘How do you get there from Hinman?’
‘We walk through the woods. There is a little path behind Hinman. We go down there.’
‘Did you go down there on Wednesday?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t remember.’
‘Really?’ said Spencer. ‘Is that a really don’t remember? And do you mean it this time?’
Jim looked back down at his hands, and Spencer bent down under the table for a moment and then lifted his head back up and said, ‘Nice shoes, Jim. What kind of shoes are they?’
Jim looked at Spencer, bewildered. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The shoes, Jim. What kind of shoes are those?’
Jim briefly looked at his shoes and then quickly back at Spencer O’Malley, who now sat with his own palms pressed against the round Formica table, but that was only so he wouldn’t clench them. Their gaze met, and Spencer knew that Jim understood precisely, precisely, what Spencer was getting at.
Heaving a big sigh, and taking his hands off the table and placing them on his lap, Jim said quietly, ‘Doc Martens.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Close Friends
Spencer never took his eyes off Jim.
‘What do you say, Jim?’ said Spencer quietly, thinking, those hands may never do college work again. They may be folding laundry for about twenty-five to life.
‘Look,’ Jim finally said with some difficulty. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. But … I don’t want you to arrest me.’ There was a long pause. ‘Please.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Spencer. ‘Should we?’
‘No, I don’t think you should,’ said Jim instantly. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘I’ll tell you up front,’ said Spencer, ‘if you killed her, you’re going to need a lawyer.’
Jim hit the table. ‘Is that what you think?’ he said fiercely. ‘That I killed her? Is that what you think I’m going to tell you? You are so wrong, you couldn’t be more wrong.’
‘Spoken like a true prelaw student,’ said Spencer. ‘Jim, you must know even murderers vehemently deny their guilt. Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty, they shout, through trials and mistrials and appeals, while sitting in jail. Those words don’t mean anything. What are you going to tell us?’
‘Everything.’
‘Okay,’ said Spencer. ‘I’m just telling you, if you killed her, you’re going to need a lawyer.’
‘I know that! Don’t you think I know that? I plan to go to law school, for God’s sake. Who do you think you’re talking to?’
Spencer leaned toward Jim. ‘I’ll tell you who I’m talking to,’ he said. ‘I’m talking to a kid who broke up with his girlfriend and then had a fight with her the night she died. He had a fight with her, and then he left for four days and when he came back she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was dead. The kid suspects that something is wrong, but he doesn’t want to think about it. So he goes to his classes, takes her dog for walks, eats, sleeps, pretends everything is okay. Except he knows that something is seriously wrong. Because no one has seen her for days. Not he, not his friends, Conni and Albert. And then, on Wednesday, he’s walking the dog in the woods, and the dog, smelling something on the ground, pulls him behind Feldberg where it stumbles upon a three-foot-high snow mound out of which stick black leather boots belonging to his mistress. The dog starts to wail and dig at the ground. The kid drags the dog away; his worst fears have proven true. Kristina is not only missing, she is dead.’ Spencer paused, his chest heavy. ‘My question to you is, why didn’t you call us immediately?’
His fists clenched and his face drained of blood, Jim said, ‘I don’t know.’
Spencer laughed. Will twinged. Jim recoiled. Then Spencer turned serious. ‘Let’s try this, Jim, shall we? For the next fifteen minutes, you don’t once say “I don’t know.” Can we try that?’
Jim was silent.
‘What I’ve just described to you, was I right?’
Jim could only nod.
‘Tell me, why didn’t you call us?’
Letting out a big heavy breath, Jim said, ‘Because I was scared shitless.’
‘Scared of what?’
‘I don –
‘Ah-ah, Jim! No. Scared of what?’
‘Scared that something was going to happen to me.’
‘To you?’
‘Yes. I was afraid I was going to be blamed somehow.’
‘Blamed for what?’
‘Blamed for her deat
h.’
‘Jim, if you’re innocent, why would you be blamed for anything?’
‘Look what’s happening! You’re blaming me now. I’ve done nothing, I know nothing, and yet exactly what I was afraid of is happening right now.’
‘How do we know you’ve done nothing?’
‘I’m telling you.’
‘How do we know you didn’t kill her on Tuesday before Thanksgiving and venture out yesterday to find out if she was still there?’
‘Why would I do that? My shoe prints are on the snow. The dog can be traced to Kristina. Why would I go back to the scene of the crime? I’d never do that.’
‘You’re saying if you killed her, you’d never come back to the scene of the crime?’
‘That’s right,’ Jim answered carefully, thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t.’
Spencer whirled around to Will. ‘Will, are you married?’
Will slowly nodded, as if unsure where this was going.
‘Will, if your wife went missing for eight days, would you be worried?’
‘Frantic’
‘Would you call us?’
‘Immediately.’
‘Will, if you found your wife buried in the snow behind your house, would you let her lie there, hoping she wouldn’t be found until the snow melted?’
‘Never.’
Spencer turned back to Jim. ‘See, I think Will is right on the ball. Don’t you think so, Jim?’
‘People react differently,’ Jim said. ‘And she was not my wife.’
‘Are you saying you didn’t love her?’
‘I’m not saying that at all. We were just not … that close.’
Not that close, Spencer mouthed. He wanted to curse. Instead, Spencer turned his head to Will and asked, ‘Will, did you know Kristina Kim?’
‘Not at all,’ answered Will, looking meaningfully at Spencer.
‘If you were strolling along in the woods behind Feldberg and found her body, would you report it?’
‘Immediately.’
‘Even if you weren’t a cop?’
‘Absolutely.’
Spencer said coldly to Jim, ‘By your own admission, you came to her room every day to check if she was there. You obviously were close enough for that. You just weren’t close enough to her to report her dead, is that right?’
Shaking his head, Jim said, ‘You just don’t understand.’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ snapped Spencer. ‘I’d like to, though. I’d like to understand what makes a twenty-one-year-old guy so afraid that he’d let his dead girlfriend lie frozen in the snow.’
‘I was afraid for myself,’ said Jim. ‘I know it sounds terrible –’
‘It does sound terrible,’ said Spencer.
‘I know. But that’s the truth. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then today when I realized how bad it would look, it was already too late to call you.’
‘And snow had fallen,’ said Spencer.
Jim flushed, as if he finally understood Spencer’s meaning.
‘There was snow,’ Jim agreed weakly.
‘And what did the snow mean to you?’
‘The snow meant,’ Jim said in a stricken voice, as quietly as he could without whispering, ‘that maybe my tracks were covered and her boots were covered too …’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘And if your tracks were covered and her boots were covered, then what?’
‘Then maybe it would be another while until she was found, and it wouldn’t get back to me.’
Spencer and Will were coolly quiet, exchanging glances. Will shook his head. Spencer shook his head and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
‘Jim, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I honestly can’t. It’s mind-boggling,’ Spencer said, raising his voice, ‘that you, when confronted with the absolute and total death of someone you were close to for three years, would run like a coward with your tail between your legs back to your cave and hope that no one would find her.’
Jim closed his eyes.
‘Eventually, though,’ said Spencer between gritted teeth, ‘after a month, two months, say by February’s winter carnival, would you have maybe mentioned to Conni and Albert that you hadn’t seen Kristina in a while? Or do you think they wouldn’t have noticed either?’
Jim rubbed his closed eyes. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘This has been the longest day of my life. I skipped all my classes today. I’ve never done that before. I was very upset.’
‘Could’ve fooled us,’ said Will Baker loudly. It was Spencer’s turn to put his hand on Will’s shoulder.
‘I was hidden in the library stacks all day,’ Jim continued. ‘If it weren’t for Aristotle cooped up in my room, I wouldn’t have left the stacks till morning. When I came back from the walk and saw you standing by my door waiting for me, I was relieved. I would’ve come to you guys myself sooner or later. I couldn’t live with it.’
‘Couldn’t, huh?’ said Spencer. ‘You’re full of shit. I’ve been in police work for eleven years. More than a third of my life. I understand crimes of passion. I understand jealousy, I understand greed. I understand rage, and revenge, and blackmail. What I don’t understand is a young man about to graduate and go to law school, a man whose entire life is going to be held up to future scrutiny, running as fast as he can the other way from his frozen naked dead girlfriend. That’s incomprehensible.’
Spencer turned to his partner. ‘Will, does it make any sense to you?’
‘Not at all,’ answered Will.
Spencer stood up. ‘Jim, you’re going to have to get yourself a lawyer. And a good one.’
Jim nodded without looking up.
‘We have no other suspects, Jim. Just you. Do you understand what I’ve just told you?’
Beaten, Jim remained sitting at the table, and without looking up, said, ‘I don’t know.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ said Spencer, motioning to Will to take Jim out of the room. ‘By the way, we need to get in touch with her family.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jim, as if in a daze, helped by Will to stand up. ‘She didn’t talk much about her family.’
‘Did she go anywhere for Christmas, or Thanksgiving?’
‘No,’ Jim said sadly. ‘She didn’t. Sometimes she would come with me. Sometimes she just stayed at Dartmouth. Once, I think, she went with Conni and Albert to Conni’s home.’
‘Are you saying she didn’t have a mother or father?’
‘I don’t know. I think her father was dead. She didn’t talk about her family.’
‘Did she have any other relatives? Brothers? Sisters? Grandparents? Aunts?’
Jim scratched his head. ‘I think her grandmother died over the summer.’
‘Died? Well, that doesn’t help us any. Kristina’s body needs to be identified before the medical examiner can autopsy her. We have time, of course.’ Spencer fell silent. ‘She has to thaw first.’
Jim shuddered.
‘Where did her grandmother live?’
‘Near some lake east of here. Not too far, a big lake. Can’t remember the name of it, long, funny name. Indian or something.’
‘Lake Winnipesaukee?’ asked Will.
‘Yes, that’s it!’ Jim exclaimed.
Spencer nodded. ‘Will, take some blood from Mr Shaw, and a hair sample. And some fibers from his sweater, and an imprint from his Doc Martens shoes.’
‘Okay,’ said Will, and then leaned to Spencer, asking, ‘What about the other two?’
‘Oh, yeah. Them.’ Spencer had forgotten about them.
While Will was busy with Jim, Spencer looked into Albert’s room and said, ‘Don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten about you. Just a little while longer.’
Albert nodded.
‘Need to go to the bathroom?’
‘I haven’t drunk anything, so the answer is no,’ said Albert.
Spencer brought him some coffee, and went to tell Conni he’d b
e with her shortly.
Jim went with Spencer and Will as they drove in silence to Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center to identify Kristina.
On the way, Jim told Spencer that there had been some weirdness on poker night he hadn’t understood, about Albert’s going to see Frankie and Frankie’s not knowing about it; and Conni had gotten upset that Kristina would care what Albert was up to.
And no, Jim told Spencer, he didn’t know why Kristina would care what Albert was up to.
It left Spencer confused.
Spencer watched Jim carefully as he walked in the cold to the hospital’s modern main doors. He noted his sloping shoulders, his ashen face in the gleaming elevator taking the three of them to the subterranean bowels of Dartmouth-Hitchcock. They walked through stark-white, fluorescent-lit halls before they went through the double doors that led them to another long corridor that ended in unmarked gray doors. Will led the way, Jim followed, and Spencer closed up the rear. Spencer thought that judging by Jim’s posture and stance, Jim was about to drop.
The morgue was a stark room with tall ceilings and clean tiled floors.
Sometimes the floors were less sparkling, covered with fluids from the victims that came through the morgue’s doors.
Today, the floors were clean, and Spencer was grateful for that small favor.
The morgue attendant on call, a small thin gray-looking man, pulled out drawer number 515. Most of the body was covered by a sheet. The black boots were plainly visible.
Jim stood there bravely for a moment and then started to cry. Spencer, after a few seconds of staring dumbly at Will, put his hand on Jim’s back and patted him brusquely. He wanted to say, ‘It’s all right.’ But he couldn’t trust his voice.
It was Will who, looking at Spencer, said, ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘Yeah, right!’ exclaimed Jim, moving away from Spencer’s hand. ‘She is dead! It’s not all right. It’s terrible.’
The morgue attendant stood near the covered gurney. His eyes were impassive.
‘Yes,’ Spencer agreed quietly. ‘It is terrible. She was too young to die and had too much life ahead of her,’ he said, welling up with emotion. He continued, ‘That’s why we need you to help us. Help us find out what happened to her. Help us –’
‘Oh, and what’s that going to do? Helping you, how is that going to bring her back?’