"I came up to the house."
"Was it unlocked?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a key? Just in case."
Now Forrest Bannister looked pained and slighted. "No," he said. He started to make some sort of explanation or excuse, stopped himself, shook his head, and just said, "No key."
"So what then?"
"Well… it wasn't normal for everything to be so… open. I had kind of a sixth sense that something was wrong. Because of the gate and the door and Evan's tone when he called."
"What tone? I thought you said he just seemed lonely."
"Yes. But it seemed more urgent than usual. More pressing than usual."
"But you didn't ask why?"
"No. It didn't matter. I figured I'd find out when I got here."
Justin nodded, then nodded a second time for Bannister to continue with his story.
"When nobody answered the door, I opened it and went inside."
"No one was here?"
Bannister shook his head.
"The couple who worked here?"
Bannister shook his head again. "No. The house was empty. At least I didn't see anyone. I called Evan's name a couple of times, then I thought that maybe he was taking a shower or something. So I-I went upstairs. And saw him."
"How long before you called the police station?"
"Immediately. Well, I don't know how long I stood there. I mean, I couldn't believe what had happened, what I saw, but I don't think it was more than a few seconds. And I didn't call the station, I called 911."
"Did you ask for an ambulance?"
Bannister looked startled at the question. "No. The police. I said there'd been a murder."
"Did you check Evan to see if he was alive?"
The same flash of confusion-Justin thought that this time it might have been embarrassment-crossed Bannister's face. "No," he said quietly. "I… He was dead. He was clearly dead. My god, it was so horrible. I couldn't bring myself to touch him, to get close. I just couldn't."
"I understand," Justin said. "What did you do until Officer Jenkins arrived?"
"Nothing. I came downstairs… I couldn't stay in that room… and I just sat. I felt dizzy-I may have even passed out for a few moments."
"You didn't move around the house?"
"No. I just sat on the couch."
"Were you planning on going back to the city tonight?"
"No. I was going to stay here."
"In the house?"
"Yes." He glared over at the ever more inebriated widow. "I stayed here sometimes when she was… out. I don't know what I'm going to do now."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd stick around until tomorrow morning, in case we have some other questions."
"But I can't stay here."
"No. Officer Jenkins'll find you a hotel in East End Harbor. I don't think it's a good idea for you to drive tonight anyway."
"Yes. I mean no. I mean, yes, I'll stay and, no, I don't want to drive back."
"An ambulance should be here soon. So will another officer who works with me. And I'm going to get a crime scene unit over here as quickly as I can get one. As soon as the officer arrives, Officer Jenkins will get you settled. I'd appreciate it if you'd come to the station by nine tomorrow morning so we can see if there's anything else you might be able to help us with. It's possible that the media'll get hold of this story very quickly. They'll probably want to talk to you. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to them. At least not yet."
Bannister nodded. He'd used up whatever strength he'd regained and looked ready to slump over again. Justin stepped over to Abby, touched her lightly on the elbow, quietly said, "Let's go. I'll get you settled, too." But before he could steer her to the door, Gary Jenkins cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
"Um," the young officer said, "could I just talk to you for a second, Chief?"
The two men walked over to the foyer and Justin waited for whatever Gary had to say, but the younger cop just looked more and more on edge. Justin finally had to say, "What is it?" and Gary turned a slight shade of red.
"I'm trying to learn, you know? Learn what to do, I mean. Although, Christ, I hope I never have to deal with anything like this again."
"What do you want to know?" Justin asked.
Gary lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "Taking Mrs. Harmon upstairs… to see the body… couldn't that have waited? Until he'd been cleaned up, I mean. Did she have to see him like that?"
Justin scratched under his chin, felt the stubble that had grown back since he'd last shaved. "No," he said. "She didn't have to see him like that. It could have waited."
Still speaking just a shade above a whisper, Gary said, "Then… Jesus… why'd you make her do it?"
"Because I needed to see how she'd react."
"You think she killed him?"
"No. But she might've. So I wanted to watch her when she saw the body, see if she was calm or surprised or sickened."
The two men faced each other. Gary nodded his understanding. Justin turned to return to the living room, but Gary reached out and grabbed his arm.
"It was kind of a cruel thing to do, what you did." It wasn't a statement, more like half a question. The younger cop knew the answer but wanted to hear it said.
"I thought it was necessary," Justin told him.
"And you like her, don't you? I mean, you-you know…"
"Yes, I know. And, yes, I like her. I like her very much."
Gary didn't say anything else, but Justin knew he wasn't quite through. There was still another question hanging in the air and Justin decided to deal with it before it could even be asked.
"You want to know what I think my job is?" Justin asked. "And your job? What a cop's job is?"
Gary didn't even nod this time, but his eyes answered yes.
"It's to find out what happened," Justin said. "That's all. Everything else after that-justice, lack of justice, punishment, revenge, everything else-all depends on us doing our job, finding out what happened, finding out the truth. Without that there's nothing."
"But-"
"There's no but. There's only the truth."
"And once we know the truth?"
"Then we're on our own. Then it's every man for himself."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"Pretty much."
"Then you want to ask the question you really want to ask?"
"What's that?"
"If I could do something that cruel to someone I like, what could I do to someone I don't care about? Is that your real question?"
"Yeah. More or less."
"You want me to answer it?"
"No," Gary said. "I don't think so."
"Good," Justin said. "Make sure that skinny little creep gets put to bed and get him to the station by nine tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll see you in the morning," Justin said.
And with nothing else to say, he took Abigail Harmon out to his car and drove her back to his house. As he made his way around the circular driveway, he saw her peering out the window at a black Lexus.
"Evan's car?" he asked. When she nodded he said, "His only one?" And she nodded again.
He didn't say anything else to her during the ride, let her fall asleep in the silence, her head resting on his shoulder as he drove. The only thing he made sure to do was not look in the rearview mirror. He didn't want to see his own eyes. Not because of the Bobby Short song. Not because there was a party going on inside his head. It was because of something else someone once said: that the eyes were the mirror to the soul.
If that was true, that was the one place he definitely did not want to peer at.
5
One more vodka and an Ambien-no self-respecting wealthy Hamptons woman was without a supply handy at all times-and Abigail was sound asleep in Justin's bed twenty minutes after they got back to his house on Division Street. He helped her get undressed, made sure she was securely between his almost clean sheets, and gently pulled his light wool summer blanket up to cover her. He leaned over and, although she didn't feel a thing, he kissed her gently on the top of her head. As he went downstairs, the sweet smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils. He quickly shook it away. He didn't need any distractions now.