This seemed to spook him, as if he thought the police might be following him. If he was going to shut down, it would begin now. Jessica noticed one of his shoes begin to tap the floor. "Yeah, why?"
"We just have to cover all bases."
This made no sense, of course, but the ugliness of this room, and the proximity of all these police officers, stayed Adam Kaslov's objections. For the moment.
"Ever been to a motel in West Philly?" Byrne asked.
They watched him closely, looking for the tic. He looked at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but Kevin Byrne's jade eyes. Finally, he said, "Why would I go to a motel there?"
Bingo, Jessica thought.
"Sounds like you're answering a question with a question, Adam."
"Okay, then," he said. "No."
"You've never been to a place called the Rivercrest Motel on Dauphin Street?"
Adam Kaslov swallowed hard. Again, his eyes roamed the room. Jessica gave him something on which to focus his attention. She dropped the unrolled matchbook on the table. It was flattened in a small evidence bag. When Adam saw it, his face drained of all color. He asked: "Are you telling me that the… the incident on the Psycho tape was done at the… this Rivercrest Motel?"
"Yes."
"And you think that I-"
"Right now we're just trying to sort out what happened. That's what we do," Byrne said.
"But I've never been there."
"Never?"
"No. I… I found those matches."
"We have a witness who puts you there."
When Adam Kaslov had arrived at the Roundhouse, John Shepherd had taken a digital photograph of him, creating for him a visitor ID badge. Shepherd had then headed out to the Rivercrest, where he had shown the picture to Karl Stott. Shepherd called in and said that Stott recognized Adam as someone who had been to the motel at least twice in the past month.
"Who said I was there?" Adam asked.
"Not important, Adam," Byrne said. "What is important is that you just lied to the police. That's something we never recover from." He glanced at Jessica. "Isn't that right, Detective?"
"That's correct," Jessica said. "It hurts our feelings, and then we have a very hard time trusting you."
"She's right. We don't trust you now," Byrne added.
"But why… why would I bring the tape to you if I had anything to do with it?"
"Can you tell us why someone would kill somebody, videotape the murder, then insert the footage onto a prerecorded tape?"
"No," Adam said. "I can't."
"Neither can we. But if you can accept that someone actually did that, it's not much of a leap to think that the same person would bring the tape in just to taunt us. Crazy is crazy, right?"
Adam looked at the floor, remained silent.
"Tell us about the Rivercrest, Adam."
Adam rubbed his face, wrung his hands. When he looked up, the detectives were still there. He spilled. "Okay. I've been there."
"How many times?"
"Twice."
"Why do you go there?" Byrne asked.
"I just did."
"What, for a vacation or something? Did you book it through your travel agent?"
"No."
Byrne leaned forward, lowered his voice. "We're going to get to the bottom of this, Adam. With or without your help. Did you see all those people on the way up here?"
After a few seconds, Adam realized that an answer was expected. "Yes."
"See, those people never go home. They have no social or family lives whatsoever. They are on the job twenty-four hours a day, and nothing gets by them. Nothing. Take a moment to think about what you're doing. The very next thing you say may be the most important thing you ever say in your life."
Adam looked up. His eyes were shiny. "You can't tell anybody about this."
"That depends on what it is you have to tell us," Byrne said. "But if it doesn't figure into this crime, it won't leave this room."
Adam looked at Jessica, then quickly looked away. "I went there with somebody," he said. "A woman. She's a woman."
He said this emphatically, as if to say that suspecting him of murder was one thing. Suspecting him of being gay was far worse.
"Do you remember what room you stayed in?" Byrne asked.
"I don't know," Adam said.
"Try real hard."
"I… I think it was room ten."
"Both times?"
"I think so."
"What kind of car does this woman drive?"
"I really don't know. We never went in her car."
Byrne leaned back. No need to come at him hard for the moment. "Why didn't you just tell us this earlier?"
"Because," Adam began, "because she's married."
"We're going to need her name."
"I… can't tell you that," Adam said. He glanced from Byrne to Jessica, then at the floor.
"Look at me," Byrne said.
Slowly, reluctantly, Adam complied.
"Do I strike you as the kind of person who's going to accept that as an answer?" Byrne asked. "I mean, I know we don't know each other, but take a quick glance around this place. Do you think it looks this shitty by accident?"
"I… I don't know."
"Okay. Fair enough. Here's what we'll do," Byrne said. "If you don't tell us this woman's name, you're going to force us to poke around in your life. We're going to get the names of all the people in your classes, all your professors. We're going to drop in at the dean's office and ask them about you. We're going to talk to your friends, family, coworkers. Is that what you really want?"
Incredibly, instead of caving in, Adam Kaslov just looked at Jessica. For the first time since she'd met him she thought she saw something in his eyes, something sinister, something that said he was not just some scared kid in over his head. There might have even been the hint of a smile on his face. Adam asked: "I need a lawyer, don't I?"
"I'm afraid we really can't advise you on something like that, Adam," Jessica said. "But I will say that, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about."
If Adam Kaslov was as big a film and TV buff as they suspected he was, he had probably seen enough scenes exactly like this one to know he had every right to stand up and walk out of the building without saying another word.
"Can I go now?" Adam asked.
Thanks again, Law amp; Order, Jessica thought.
Jessica considered little Jake's description: Flyers cap, sunglasses, maybe a dark blue jacket. A uniformed officer had looked through the windows of Adam Kaslov's car while Adam was being questioned. None of these items was in plain sight, nor was there a gray wig, a housedress, or a dark cardigan.
Adam Kaslov had a direct connection to the murder tape, he had been to the murder scene, and he had lied to the police. Was it enough for a search warrant?
"I don't think so," Paul DiCarlo said. When Adam had said his father was in real estate, he had neglected to mention that his father was Lawrence Kaslov. Lawrence Kaslov was one of the biggest developers in eastern Pennsylvania. If they moved too soon on this kid, there would be a wall of pin-striped suits up in a second.
"Maybe this will tip it," Cahill said, entering the room. He had a fax in hand.
"What is it?" Byrne asked.
"Young Mr. Kaslov has a record," Cahill replied.
Byrne and Jessica exchanged a glance. "I ran him," Byrne said. "He was clean."
"Not squeaky."
They all glanced at the fax. At fourteen, Adam Kaslov was arrested for videotaping his neighbor's teenaged daughter through her bedroom window. He received counseling and community service. He served no time in a juvenile facility.
"We can't use this," Jessica said.
Cahill shrugged. He knew as well as anyone else in the room that juvenile records are supposed to be sealed. "Just FYI."