Part 10 (1/2)
”I'll check with the arson investigators and see what I can do.”
As I opened the station door to leave, I ran right into Chris Durand coming the other way.
”Julia! I'm so glad to see you.”
”What're you doing here?”
He shrugged and stepped back so I could get outside.
”If you're here to plead for your cab, it probably won't get you anywhere. Binder doesn't care if he destroys your income, believe me.”
”No, nothing like that.”
As we moved outside into the sunlight, I noticed he looked pale and worried. I longed for his usual, ”Hey, beautiful.”
Chris c.o.c.ked his head toward the bench on the green across the street from the police station. We walked the short distance to it and sat down. He put his head in his hands and said, ”I'm here for another interview.”
”What? Why? I don't get this,” I fumed. ”I know the desk clerk at the Lighthouse saw Ray after you dropped him off.”
”And then saw him leave again.”
So Chris knew that, too.
”Anyway, I'm sure this meeting is about what they found in my cab.”
”What could they have found in your cab?”
”For one thing, I'm sure they found that my cab's been cleaned. Very thoroughly. Recently.”
”So what? So you keep a clean cab.”
”Not that kind of cleaning. And for another, I'm pretty certain they found blood in my cab. Wilson's blood.”
It was the second shocking revelation of the day, after Etienne's admission that he'd met Ray Wilson when he was alive. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. But I was also sure, deep in my bones, Chris hadn't murdered anyone. I was as certain of his innocence as I was of my own. ”How did Ray's blood get in your cab?” I asked.
”Wilson was really drunk when I took him back to his hotel from Crowley's. He got sick in the back of my cab. I was angry. For one thing, it meant I couldn't pick up any more fares, and the bars were just closing. He'd cost me a bundle. So I drove to the marina, grabbed a bucket and some rags off my boat. It wasn't until I opened up the back door of the cab that I saw his vomit was full of blood. I held my breath and scrubbed. It was really bad, so I took all the seats out and scrubbed some more. Anyway, I'm sure that's what they want to talk to me about.”
I flashed on the image of Ray Wilson hanging from the staircase, blood all down the front of his pink polo s.h.i.+rt. ”Did you tell the police about the blood when they interviewed you before?”
Chris shook his head. ”I never thought it would go this far. I thought they would catch whoever it was long before they got around to searching my cab. I guess I'll be telling them now. I know it looks bad. I feel like an idiot.”
”What happened after Ray was sick?”
”Exactly what I told you the other day. Wilson got out of the cab and went into the Lighthouse Inn. Like a lot of drunks, getting sick seemed to make him feel better.”
”Did Ray go into the hotel lobby with his s.h.i.+rt covered in blood?” Surely Clarice Kemp would have mentioned it, if that were the scuttleb.u.t.t.
”He had a windbreaker with him. He put it on. He was so drunk, he couldn't zip it up. I got out of the cab and helped him. The zipper stuck, and I caught my finger.”
”Are you saying your DNA is on Wilson's jacket?”
Chris nodded. ”Could be. Was he wearing the jacket when you, you know . . .”
”When I saw him hanging from the staircase? No. Just a pink polo s.h.i.+rt with blood down the front. No windbreaker.”
We sat on the bench for a moment, each absorbed in our own thoughts. It was so wrong that Chris was mixed up in this.
”Julia, I can't believe what a mess this has turned into. I'm scared about what could happen.”
Scared? I couldn't imagine Chris scared. Yet there he was, telling me it was so. Him confessing his fear rattled me more than anything else in the conversation.
Chris stood and turned toward the station. ”Here goes nothing.”
”I think you should get a lawyer.”
”A-I can't afford it. B-I didn't kill the guy. I'll just have to trust in the system.”
Chapter 27.
I sat on the bench a while after Chris left. The conversation had been unlike any we'd ever had. Since March, I'd poured out my emotions to him-my anger at Sonny, my frustration at being home, my fears for the clambake, but it was the first time Chris had ever been open and vulnerable with me. He'd never talked about how he felt, ever.
I was glad I'd been there when he needed me. Elated he'd opened up to me. But I wasn't as trustful of the system as he claimed to be. I pulled out my phone and texted Michaela. r u still bath? Boy, that text looked funny.
She responded immediately. yes at m-i-l help!
So, she was still at her almost mother-in-law's house. I remembered Tony's mother from the nonwedding day. A pinched-faced woman who looked none too happy, though it was impossible for me to say why-Ray's absence, the informal wedding, or some longer-term issue, like displeasure at her son's choice of bride. Anyway, it sounded like Michaela needed rescuing.
I texted back. coffee?
yes! when?
25?.
done. front n centre.
By which I guessed she meant the Cafe Creme on the corner of Front and Centre Streets in Bath in twenty-five minutes.
A few minutes later, I drove out of Busman's Harbor and headed up the peninsula to Route One. I'd had to borrow my mother's car, which made me feel like a teenager. I really needed to solve my transportation problem. But buying a car would mean I wasn't planning to return to Manhattan any time soon, and with the clambake closed for business, I couldn't let myself even think about that.