"Me and Meyer.”
"And you say he admitted the burglary?”
"Said maybe he did the burglary, but not the murders?”
“Only maybe, huh?”
"Better than no?”
"Who'd he say did the murders?”
"The woman, Shot the kid and then herself. Accidentally.”
"Any prints on the weapon?”
"Only hers.”
"So maybe he's telling the truth.”
“Maybe I'm Robert Redford.”
“You kind of look like him.”
"I know, it's a curse. You kind of look like Meg Ryan.”
"Let's go talk to Travolta. Maybe we can all make a movie together.”
They didn't actually get started until a little past. nine o'clock that night. That was when Blyden and Meltzman finished their private conversation. By that time, the detectives had also given Nellie everything they had on the crimes. The Q and A started in the Interrogation Room at 9:07 P.M. Meyer and Kling were present, as were Willis and Parker, and Lieutenant Byrnes, and the D.A."s Office technician who was videotaping the session. Nellie read Blyden his rights again, got his lawyer's consent to proceed, elicited Blyden's name, address, and pedigree, and then got down to brass tacks.
"Mr. Blyden," she said, "I want you to tell me everything you remember about the afternoon of August twenty-fifth.”
His resemblance to John Travolta was a little unnerving. He did not seem to possess Travolta's cool, however. Instead, he seemed shy, almost timid, not unlikely traits for a burglar. Nellie suddenly wondered if she really did look like Meg Ryan. All at once, the video camera made her feel self-conscious, even though it was trained on Blyden.
Q: Mr. Blyden?
A: Yes, I'm thinking.
Q: This would've been a Tuesday.
A: Yes
Q: Do you remember where you were that afternoon? This would've been around three-thirty, four o'clock, can you recall?
Blyden seemed to be having a little difficulty here.
He had already told the arresting detectives that maybe he'd committed the burglary, but not the murders. His lawyer had probably asked him without advising him to lie, of course to think about whether he hadn't been someplace else entirely on the day of the burglary.
"Mr. Blyden?" she said. "Would you answer the question, please?”
"I was home baking cookies," Blyden said.
Okay, he was opting to lie. Though in a singularly stupid way. If the cops thought you were The Cookie Boy, why admit to baking cookies? Listen, Nellie would take whatever she could get.
"Anyone with you, Mr. Blyden?”
"I was alone.”
"Anyone see you baking these cookies?”
"The window was open. Maybe somebody saw me.”
“But you can't say for certain that anyone saw you.”
“No, I can't.”
"What kind of cookies were you baking, Mr. Blyden?”
He hesitated. Admit to baking chocolate chip cookies and he was reaching out for The Cookie Boy's hand. "I forget," he said. "I bake all kinds of cookies.”
“Like to bake, do you?”
“Oh, yes.”
"Ever bake chocolate chip cookies?”
“Sometimes.”
"Were you baking chocolate chip cookies on August twenty-fifth?"
A: I don't remember.
Q: Have you ever baked chocolate chip cookies?
A: I don't particularly care for them.
Q: But have you ever ... ?
A: Chocolate chip cookies.
Q: I understand. But have you ever baked them?
A: I don't think so.
Q: Never baked chocolate chip cookies in your life?
A: I don't think so.
Q: Yes or no, Mr. Blyden?
"He's already answered the question," Meltzman said.
"Not to my satisfaction.”
"You'll be satisfied only when he says Yes, he has baked chocolate chip cookies.”
"No, I'll be satisfied when he gives me a straight yes or no answer.”
Q: Mr. Blyden, have you ever baked chocolate chip cookies in your life?
A: Yes. Maybe. Once or twice.
It was not uncommon for a person being interrogated to reverse direction, especially when he wasn't under oath. Blyden was probably thinking they knew somehow that he baked chocolate chip cookies. Maybe one of the neighbors could tell by the smell that they were chocolate chip cookies. Or maybe they'd entered his apartment since they'd arrested him, and found his recipe. Or maybe they could later confiscate his pots and pans, do tests on them, find out he'd baked chocolate chip cookies in them. So it was better to admit he'd baked them once or twice.
Q: How about August twenty-fifth? Did you bake chocolate chip cookies that day?
A: No.
Q: What did you bake? What kind of cookies?
A: I don't remember.
Q: Well, that was only six days ago. Don't you remember what kind of cookies you baked six days ago?
A: No, I don't.
Q: Then how do you know they weren't chocolate chip cookies? AI rarely bake chocolate chip cookies.
"Excuse me, counselor," Mettzman said. "Where's this going?”
"Excuse me, counselor," Nellie said, "but this isn't a courtroom, and I really must ask you to refrain from interjecting.”
"I realize ...”
"This is a simple Q and A, Mr. Meltzman. No objections, no rules of evidence, nothing to constrain me from getting at the truth.”
"Just which truth are you seeking?”
"You do know that your client is thought to be a burglar the media has nicknamed The Cookie Boy, don't you?”
"That is the allegation, yes.”
"You know, too, that The Cookie Boy leaves chocolate chip cookies at the scene of all his burglaries.”
"A singular idiosyncrasy, to be sure. But, Miss Brand ...”
"Mrs. Brand.”
"Forgive me. We're dealing here, Mrs. Brand, with a specific burglary and a specific pair of murders committed during this burglary. My client has no prior criminal record of any kind, and he has just told you that he's only baked chocolate chip cookies on one or two occasions in his lifetime. Why he was arrested at all is beyond my comprehension.
Are you planning to charge him with these murders?”
"We are.”
"Then why don't you do so?”
"I'd like a few questions answered first," Nellie said.
"I think you've asked enough questions for now," Meltzman said. "If you're going to charge him, do it. If not, we're out of here.”
"Is that your client's decision?”
"Mr. Blyden?" Meltzman said, turning to him. "Do you wish to answer any further questions?”
"I do not wish to answer any further questions," Blyden said.
"Can we put it any more plainly?”
"That's it then," Nellie said, and signaled to the video guy. "Have a seat, counselor. I'd like to discuss this with the officers here.”
"Five minutes," Meltzman said, and looked at his watch.
Together, she and the detectives went down the hall to Byrnes's office.
"This makes it tough," she said. "We were weak going in. Now that he won't tell us anything, what've we got? Nothing that'll stick.”
"We've got blood in the apartment," Parker said.
"If it's his. We won't know that without a DNA test.
And we can't take a sample without a court order.”
“So let's get one,”
Byrnes said.
"I'm sure we can. We've got probable cause coming out of our ears. But meanwhile, he'll run to China.”
"Not if we charge him with the burg," Meyer said. "That'd give us six days to chase the murders.”
"Get our court order and our blood sample in that time," Willis said.
"He just recanted the burglary," Nellie said.
"So what?" Kling said. "We've got cookie crumbs found at the scene.
Chocolate chip.”
"That only means someone in the apartment was eating chocolate chip cookies and left a mess. It didn't have to be Blyden.”