The Walls Of The Universe Part 32

"I think so. Did you?"

"Uh-huh." Though John wondered how they would juggle time between Wizards and cla.s.s.

John drove to the factory afterwards. Unlocking the door, he immediately noticed the drift of snow under the far window. Someone had broken the window. There were tracks in the dirt. Someone had broken into the factory.

John rushed to the showroom. He couldn't tell if anyone had been there. Steve's sweeping had left the floor dirtless. The machines were all as John had left them, as far as he could tell.

He returned to the main door and looked up and down the alley. The car with the two men wasn't there. Could it have been them? He shook his head. It was just kids. Especially in this neighborhood. He found an old piece of plywood and nailed it to the open window frame.

He kept expecting Steve to walk into the factory, but he was alone with the machines and the tools all day. He found himself drifting off into a daydream of Casey, and he shook his head. What was she up to? John wondered. Not that it mattered. She and he were finished.

He sighed and put the wrench down.

He put everything down, locked the factory, and drove to the nearest gas station. From their pay phone he called Casey's parents' house in Findlay. Surprisingly, she answered.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Uh. Casey."

"John," she said. She didn't sound angry or even interested. Perhaps resigned.

"You free tonight? You wanna see our factory?"

There was a pause. "Yeah, I'm free."

CHAPTER 28

John Prime had been in police stations before. There'd been the time he'd been arrested for vagrancy. Just the once, but that was amazing given the number of times he'd slept in the open, unable to obtain local currency and too scared to move to the next universe without trying to make a go of it. Then there'd been the time he'd been pulled over in the rental because he'd thought the speed limit signs were in miles per hour instead of kilometers an hour. There'd been a lot of almosts too: the time he'd skipped out just as the treasury agents bashed down the door of his hotel room and the times Casey's father had called the cops.

This time was different. There was no easy way out. Worse, he'd done it, with no mitigating circ.u.mstances. He'd killed a man, and they had him. His only hope was to trust Casey.

"Look at me, Rayburn," Detective Duderstadt yelled.

Prime continued to stare at the floor.

"You think this is all going away if you ignore it? Is that it?" Duderstadt turned to the one other cop in the room, a uniformed officer, standing by the door with his arms crossed. "He thinks I'm not here. Thinks I don't exist."

The other cop said, "Don't I wish. You haven't showered in seventy-two."

Duderstadt shrugged his shoulders at the cop, said to Prime, "He's a comedian, Eckart is. He finds this funny. Me, I take murder very seriously. The people of Findlay take it very seriously. How do you take murder, Rayburn?"

"Ask my lawyer," Prime said. His throat, dry after the booking, the mug shot, and the hour in the hot room alone, broke his voice.

Duderstadt laughed. "Apparently you do find this humorous too. Your lawyer isn't here, at least not for the next twenty-three hours."

"Twenty-two hours and thirty minutes, hoss," Eckart said.

"Right. Law says we can hold you incommunicado for twenty-four hours until we let you see your lawyer."

Prime shrugged. The laws of arrest, interrogation, and trial varied slightly and constantly from universe to universe.

"I have nothing to say," Prime said.

"I'd expect so, if you were guilty," Duderstadt said. "I'd say very little if I were guilty, eh, Eckart? I'd not want to incriminate myself."

"If they don't speak, it means they're guilty," Eckart said. "First rule they teach in detective school."

"Ah, yes," Duderstadt said. "Silence equals guilt. We're just going to a.s.sume you're guilty when you don't talk."

"I want my lawyer," Prime said.

"He'll be here, he'll be here in what?"

"Twenty-two hours and twenty-eight minutes," Eckart finished.

"So, my throat is going to get a little dry if I do all the talking during that time. But I'm willing to start us off. I'm willing to explain why you're here. You just jump in when I get it wrong."

"Lawyer."

"Here's how we see it. Ever since this expulsion thing in high school. What? A year ago?"

"About that," Eckart said.

"And how about that? High school student to president of some crazy toy company. And here you're throwing it all away over some punk. I can't fathom it. I can't fathom why you'd do it."

"Because I wouldn't," Prime said, instantly regretting.

"Ah, yes, but this all started before you were rich and famous. This all started when you were just a punk yourself. Two punks, with a grudge. The end is always bad for two punks and a grudge."

"Black eye, broken leg, punctured lung," Eckart said, ticking off his fingers. "Gunshot to the leg."

Duderstadt turned back to Prime. "And that was all this week!" He took his coffee off the table, sipped it slowly. There'd been no offer of coffee to Prime. "Two punks and a grudge. Never works out. So, Carson comes to work during the summer with his dad. He sees his old nemesis. Tempers flare. Words are exchanged. He insults your wife. You accuse him of torturing animals." Duderstadt paused. "How did you know that, by the way? How did you know that bit of information? Ted Carson, animal torturer. That's perplexing, unless you were in league with him."

Prime's face jerked up, but he held his tongue.

"Ah, perhaps not. Perhaps you knew, and you feared for your wife's life, because you knew what he could do. You knew you had to act to save your family, so when he came to your apartment, threatening you, you did what you had to do. You did the only thing possible. You killed him before he could kill you."

Prime met Duderstadt's eyes but remained mute. The detective was too close to the truth, but Prime wouldn't let him know how close.

"It was probably justifiable. It'll make it easier on you if it was. The boy had it coming. No doubt about. I'll stand up in court and let the judge know about his... activities. You might get no jail time at all. You might be back to that beautiful family of yours before Christmas." Duderstadt looked him square in the face, the perfect confidant, the perfect friend to help a wayward soul through turmoil.

"I think you want to tell me what happened, Rayburn. I think you do."

Prime opened his mouth, closed it again.

"Come on; you'll feel better when you do."

Prime nodded. "Go f.u.c.k your f.a.g buddy, and get me my G.o.dd.a.m.n lawyer."

Eckart actually laughed. Duderstadt's face turned purple, and he slammed the back of his fist against Prime's cheek.

Prime grinned and let the blood flood over his lips and onto his s.h.i.+rt.

"You'll have to explain that to my lawyer too," Prime said. He grinned with what he hoped were ghoulishly b.l.o.o.d.y teeth.

"You were already worked over when you got here," Duderstadt said.

"By your patrolmen," Prime said. "What a lawsuit I have."

Duderstadt grunted and stood. "You'll wish you confessed. You'll wish you confessed before this is all over. Keeping all that inside you, Rayburn, it hurts. I've seen what a good confession will do for a man. I feel just like a priest sometimes."

Prime bit down on his first response. He wanted to tell Duderstadt to p.i.s.s off and let him sleep. But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was right; how much better he would feel if he just confessed.

To get it all off his chest- "No confession today, Father Duderstadt. Why don't you go and let me sleep."

The detective stared at him, then nodded to Eckart. They left, slamming the door behind them.

Prime awoke with a start. Duderstadt had slammed the door. Prime glanced at the clock. He'd slept in the uncomfortable chair for three hours, an amazing feat considered how worked up he'd been after the questioning. But the fight with Carson, the trip in the back of the patrol car to Findlay, the hours of tension had drained him of energy.

Prime relaxed his face, forced himself to yawn.

Duderstadt slapped a pile of papers down onto the table.

"What is this s.h.i.+t?" Duderstadt said.

"What?" Prime asked.

"Even your wife didn't have the combination," Duderstadt said. "We had to get a cracker in from Detroit to open it."

Prime stared at the pile of paper. He saw the newspaper clippings; one from the Findlay Bee Findlay Bee was on top. In this universe the Findlay newspaper was called the was on top. In this universe the Findlay newspaper was called the Gazette. Gazette.

"Articles on the mayor, on the council members, plans for c.r.a.p, bric-a-brac, toys." Duderstadt spread the material across the table. "And here's the file I care about, one on Ted Carson. Clippings of him being arrested for killing a cat. Only this never happened." Duderstadt shook the paper in Prime's face. "What is this s.h.i.+t?"

Prime couldn't help it. He started laughing. "You broke into my safe for some old fake newspaper clippings? What a bunch of idiots."

"Fake? These look real."

"Real? Whoever heard of the Findlay Sentinel Findlay Sentinel?"

"What are these for?" Duderstadt cried. He was a deep shade of purple.

Prime grinned. "A book," he said. "I'm also a writer. A science fiction murder mystery."

"A book."

"There'll be a police detective character, but I think he'll die early in the narrative."

Duderstadt glared at Prime. Then he swept up the materials into his arms and pulled open the door. Eckart stood there.

"Send him to the pit," Duderstadt said. "Let him rot there until his lawyer comes and gets him tomorrow."

"You got it, hoss," Eckart said.

Prime relaxed. Now he could get some more sleep.

"Hey, Duderstadt," Prime said.

The detective turned.

"Just throw all that junk away," Prime said. "I don't need it anymore."

CHAPTER 29

Kyle set up interviews with three lawyers before Christmas, but though all were sympathetic and believed the cases were winnable, none had time to work on them. Though John was depressed, Kyle a.s.sured him that someone would take the case.

"There's a requirement for pro bono work," Kyle said. "We just have to find the right lawyer who has the right time to work on this."

"Sure," John said.

"And even if we don't find someone before the January fifth meeting, I'll be there," Kyle said. "Though I can't say anything. Or be your lawyer. I can at least be there to make suggestions."

"I appreciate that."

On Christmas, John drove down to Bill and Janet's farm. He had small gifts for them, and though they welcomed him warmly and it looked like home, it wasn't. John left early and drove over to Casey's street. She had told him to pick her up at three thirty, but it was only one. He parked next to the curb in the slush one block up and sat in his car. He was afraid he was in love with Casey.