A Stranger Lies There Read Online Free PDF Page B

were several windowed offices with room for coatracks and trophy cases. In the far corner, a coffee machine with three detectives gathered around it. An empty conference room behind glass contained a large table and chairs, and a TV and VCR on a stand.
    Branson was sitting at one of the middle desks, opposite another detective who was on the phone. Branson looked up when we entered, then approached, hand extended.
    â€œGood morning. Thanks for coming in. My partner should be done in a second,” he said, shaking our hands. The words were friendly, but the manner was all business. He introduced himself to Deirdre as his partner finished his call and our escort left. “This is Detective Tidwell,” Branson said, leaving it at that.
    Tidwell was about my height and slim. Late thirties, with short, curly brown hair that was slicked back from his forehead. He wore glasses and an open expression that felt reassuring. A sharp contrast with his partner. Tidwell shook both our hands, apologizing for the inconvenience. Led us out of the squad room to a series of small, windowless rooms with straight-backed chairs and a table visible in each.
    â€œThis shouldn’t take long,” he assured Deirdre as they entered the room on the right.
    Branson seated me in the one next to it. Shut the door and sat down across from me in front of a large mirror on the back wall. After switching on a small tape recorder that sat in the middle of the table, he recited both our names, the date and time, and the case number. Then he began the interview.
    We started with the night before I found the body. I repeated the same things I’d told the officer that morning about working in the shop and then going to bed.
    â€œWhy do you think your neighbors didn’t hear anything?”
    You kidding? I wanted to say. People in their homes with the AC blasting and the TV on, you could scream your ass off and nobody’d hear. And a small gun wouldn’t make much noise.
    â€œI don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.”
    â€œYour tools aren’t that loud are they?”
    â€œNo, they’re not. And my shop is pretty well sealed up.”
    Branson glanced at his notepad. “Where are the Hagstroms?”
    Neighbors next door. “They’re retired. Clear out every year before the spring breakers arrive. Not to mention the heat.”
    A skeptical look.
    â€œYou always park your car in the street?”
    I wondered where that came from, until I realized it had shielded the body from the street. “Mostly. Deirdre takes the driveway. Garage is occupied.”
    He nodded. “Let’s go to the next morning.”
    I didn’t get too far before Branson interrupted. “You brought your coffee out to the front porch?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Branson didn’t say anything for a while, just tapped his pencil against his cheek. I waited.
    â€œHere we are in the middle of a heatwave, and you’re bringing hot coffee outside?”
    Now it was my turn to pause. “So what?”
    â€œSeems a little strange to me. Why would you drink it outside in the heat when you could relax with it inside, in the air-conditioning?”
    â€œI don’t use the air conditioner. I like the heat.”
    â€œYou seem pretty comfortable in here.”
    â€œI prefer the heat.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, shaking his head. “Go on.”
    â€œWhere was I?”
    â€œTell me about the body.”
    â€œHe was just lying there.”
    â€œYou touch him?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCheck for a pulse?”
    I just said I didn’t touch him. “No.”
    â€œHow did you know he was dead?”
    â€œThere were flies all over him.”
    â€œYou didn’t think you should make sure?”
    He was making a simple story very complicated. “They were crawling on his eyeballs, for Chrissake. That seemed like a pretty good sign.”
    â€œJust answer the questions, Mr.