“Before you occupy yourself, how about getting me a tube of Pepsi. And yeah, I’m still boycotting Vending. Those machines hold a grudge, but they’ve got nothing on me.”
He obliged, handed over the soft drink tube. “If you’re reasonable with them, they’re reasonable with you.”
“Not in my experience.” She pulled out her comm, officially booked Interview A as Roarke wandered off.
Clipperton could sit and sweat a few minutes, she decided, and went to her office, put together a file.
By the time she walked back into Interview, Clipperton had his head on the table. His snores pulled the ugly paint from the walls.
“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, entering Interview with Clipperton, Jon. Wake up!” She sat across from him, set her files down, gave his arm a brisk shake. “Wake up, Clipperton.”
“Huh?” He lifted his head, stared at her with droopy, blood-shot eyes.
“Do you need or wish the assistance of Sober-Up before we begin the interview?” She rattled the small tin she’d brought in with her.
“I’m not drunk.” He attempted to poke out his chest in outrage. “I’m just tired. A guy works all day like me, he gets tired.”
“Yeah. Do you understand refusal of this aid, as offered, negates any future claim that this interview was conducted while you were impaired?”
“I’m not impaired, okay? Can’t a guy take a quick nap after a hard day?”
“Your choice.” She set the tin aside. “I’m going to read you your rights, for your protection. You’ve been down this road before. You have the right to remain silent,” she began.
“I didn’t do anything!” Clipperton claimed.
“We’ll talk about that. Do you understand your rights and obligations?”
“Yeah, yeah, but—”
“Were you employed as a carpenter’s helper by Brodie Fine fifteen years ago?”
“Done some work for Brodie, sure. Did some a couple weeks ago.”
“And did this work—fifteen years ago—include a building on Ninth Avenue, then known as The Sanctuary?”
“Huh?”
“The Sanctuary, a shelter for youths in need.”
“Oh, the dump over on Ninth. Sure, we did some repairs and crap there. So what?”
“How many times did you go there without Mr. Fine?”
His face, sallow, soft—perhaps once reasonably attractive—pulled into really hard lines as he thought.
“Why would I do that?”
“To see the pretty young girls, Clip. Like Shelby, the thirteen-year-old you bartered brew for sex with?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If she said I did, she’s a liar.”
“Like Mook?”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ A.”
Eve leaned forward. “I’ve got witnesses, on both counts, Clip. Lying to me isn’t going to help, and with your record, I can send you away for a good, long stretch.”
“Wait a minute. Just wait. I told you Mook had her tits right out there. That was just a misunderstanding. That’s it.”