“I know, sweetheart,” Jim said. “It doesn’t seem possible, but apparently that’s what they think. And you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”
But Lisa stood up. “No,” she said. “It’s all right. I’ll talk to them. And I’ll tell them just what a dumb idea they’ve come up with.”
She went into the living room, and the two officers rose to their feet, but before they could speak, Lisa began talking.
“Kate and Bob didn’t do anything,” she said. “And if you want me to say they were acting funny last night, I won’t. They were acting just like they always act, except that Kate was a little quieter than usual.”
“Nobody’s saying anyone did anything, Lisa,” Finnerty interjected. “We’re just trying to find out what happened, and if the kids could have had any part in it at all.”
“Well, they couldn’t,” Lisa replied. “And I know why you’re asking questions about them. It’s those kids in Marin, isn’t it?”
Finnerty swallowed, and nodded.
“Well, they were creeps. They were doing drugs all the time, and drinking, and all that kind of stuff. And Bob and Kate aren’t like that at all.”
“Honey, take it easy,” Jim Cochran said, stepping into the room and putting his arm around his daughter. “They just want to ask some questions. If you don’t want to answer them, you don’t have to, but don’t try to keep them from doing their job.”
As Lisa turned to gaze into her father’s eyes, her indignation dissolved into tears. “But, Daddy, it’s so awful. Why would they think Kate and Bob would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Jim admitted. “And maybe they don’t. Now, do you want to talk to them, or not?”
Lisa hesitated, then nodded, and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief her father handed her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But nothing happened last night.”
“All right,” Finnerty said, taking out his notebook. “Let’s start with that.”
Slowly Lisa reconstructed the events of the evening before. She’d gone to Jake’s by herself, and, as usual, a lot of the kids had been there. Then, when Bob and Kate came in, the three of them had taken a table together, and sat sipping Cokes and talking about nothing in particular. Then Alex Lonsdale had joined them for a while, and eventually they had all left.
“And there wasn’t anything odd about Kate or Bob? They didn’t seem nervous, or worried, or anything?”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “If you mean did they act like they’d just killed someone, no, they didn’t. In fact, when they left, Kate even wondered if they ought to call Mrs. Benson and tell her they were on their way.” Then, when she saw the two policemen exchange a glance, she spoke again. “And don’t try to make anything out of that, either. Kate always called her mom if she was going to be late. She always said her mom had enough to worry about with her dad being a drunk and shouldn’t have to worry about her, too.”
Finnerty closed his notebook and stood up. “All right,” he said. “I guess that’s it, if you can’t think of anything else — anything out of the ordinary at all.”
Lisa hesitated, and once more Finnerty and Jackson exchanged a glance.
“Is there something?” Jim asked.
“I … I don’t know,” Lisa replied.
“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Finnerty told her, reopening his notepad.
“But it doesn’t have anything to do with Kate and Bob,” Lisa said.
Jackson frowned. “Then what does it have to do with? One of the other kids?”
Again Lisa hesitated, then nodded. “With … with Alex Lonsdale,” she said.
“What about Alex?” Jim asked. “It’s all right, honey. Just tell us what happened with Alex.”
“Well, nothing, really,” Lisa said. “Ever since the accident, he’s so strange, but last night he said he was getting better, and for a while I thought he was. I mean, he was smiling, and he laughed at jokes, and he seemed almost … well, almost like he used to be.” She fell silent, and Finnerty finally asked her what, exactly, had happened.
“I don’t know,” Lisa confessed. “But finally Bob started teasing Alex about something, and Alex didn’t blush.”
“That’s all?” Finnerty asked. “The strange thing was that he didn’t blush?”
Lisa nodded. “Alex always used to blush. In fact, some of the kids used to say things to him just to watch him get embarrassed. But last night, even though he was smiling, and laughing, and all that, he still wasn’t blushing.”
“I see,” Finnerty said. He closed his notebook for the last time and slid his pencil back in his pocket. A few minutes later, when they were outside, he turned to Jackson. “Well, what do you think?”
“I still think we’re barking up the wrong tree,” Jackson replied. “But I guess we might as well have a talk with the Lonsdale boy.”
“Yeah,” Finnerty agreed. Then he rolled his eyes. “Kids amaze me,” he said. “They spend a whole evening together, and the only odd thing the girl can remember is that her boyfriend didn’t blush. Isn’t that something?”
Jackson frowned. “Maybe it is important,” he said. “Maybe it’s very important.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Marsh Lonsdale sat listening as the two officers interviewed Alex about the events of the night before, but found himself concentrating much more on the manner in which his son spoke than on the words themselves. They were in the living room, gathered around the fireplace, and at the far end — huddled alone in a chair as if she wanted to divorce herself from everything — Ellen seemed not to be listening at all.
“Everything,” Finnerty had said an hour ago. “We want you to tell us everything you remember about last night, just the way you remember it.”
And ever since, Alex had been speaking, his voice steady and expressionless, recounting what he remembered of his activities the night before, from the time he left the house to go to Jake’s, to the moment he returned. It was, Marsh realized, almost like listening to a tape recorder. Alex remembered what everyone had said, and repeated it verbatim. After the first twenty minutes, both Finnerty and Jackson had stopped taking notes, and were now simply sitting, listening. When, at last, Alex’s recitation was over, there was a long silence, then Roscoe Finnerty got to his feet and went to the mantel. Resting most of his weight on the heavy oak beam that ran the width of the fireplace, he gazed curiously at Alex.
“You really remember all that?” he asked at last.
Alex nodded.
“In that kind of detail?” Finnerty mused aloud.
“His memory is remarkable,” Marsh said, speaking for the first time since the interview had begun. “It seems to be a function of the brain surgery that was done after his accident. If he says he remembers all of what he just told you, then you can believe he does.”
Finnerty nodded. “I’m not doubting it,” he said. “I’m just amazed at the detail, that’s all.” He turned back to Alex. “You’ve told us everything that happened at Jake’s, and you’ve told us everything everyone said. But what I want to know is if you noticed anything about Kate Lewis and Bob Carey. Did they act … well, normal?”
Alex gazed steadily at Finnerty. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really know what normal is anymore. What you’re asking me to do is describe how they appeared to be feeling, but I can’t do that, since I don’t have feelings anymore. I had them before the accident — or at least everyone says I did — but since the accident I don’t. But they acted just like they always have.” Suddenly he grinned uncomfortably. “Bob was teasing me a little.”