Sebastian leads us inside. The apartment has the same setup as Diana’s, and he motions to th
e sofa. We sit, and he starts to lower himself to the armchair and then stops, hovering over it.
“Drinks,” he says. “Would you like…?” He looks at the cold fire. “Uh, I’ve got water.”
“We’re fine, thanks,” I say. “We’re sorry for coming by so late. I’m sure you were sleeping.”
He doesn’t say no, that’s fine. He doesn’t argue either. Just nods.
I continue, “We’re burning the midnight oil on this case. Making the rounds to those who don’t have alibis.”
His hands tighten on the arms of his chair, almost reflexively. “Right. That’d include me.”
“Can you tell us where you were at the time of the shooting?”
“Here. Alone. Sleeping.” He pauses. “Lousiest alibi ever.”
“Sleeping?” My brows lift. “In the middle of the afternoon?”
“I worked a split shift. Chopping duty in the morning, and then dishwashing after dinner. I was off from noon until four. We’d headed out at five A.M. for lumber, so I was beat. I came back and crashed.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
He shakes his head. “They can confirm I had a split shift. Marlo might remember me saying I was wiped out and planned to nap.” He pauses. “Which, if I intended to commit a crime, would sound like I was setting up an alibi.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
He manages a weak smile. “Yep, I have some experience with that. Needing alibis. Setting them up, too.” He looks at me. “I’m not sure how much you know about my background, Detective Butler, but I understand Sheriff Dalton has been briefed. While I’d rather it wasn’t broadcast around town, I’m okay with you knowing my past. I’d rather you did, actually. Get it all out in the open. My personal twelve-step program for criminal rehabilitation.”
“So you’ve committed crimes.”
“What’s that joke? I don’t have a rap sheet—I have a rap book?” He shakes his head. “I got an early start. Shoplifting by eight. Jacking cars by fourteen. B and E. Petty larceny. Possession with intent to distribute.” He folds his hands in his lap, an odd gesture that I notice. “I could blame a shitty home life and shittier friends, but we all make choices, and I wasn’t a dumb, naive kid. I made bad choices. Lots of them. When I wanted out, I learned it wasn’t that easy. So now you’re stuck with me. If you need a car jacked, I’m your guy. Considering you have no cars here, though, I’m pretty much useless.”
“You prefer bump keys or jumping the engine?”
He smiles. “Been a while since I actually jacked anything, but at the time, it was bump keys.”
I hope my expression doesn’t change. You don’t jack a car with a bump key. Or by “jumping the engine”—whatever that means.
Sebastian leans back, getting comfortable. “One thing you won’t find on my records is violence. I’m sure Sheriff Dalton can confirm that. I hurt people. I don’t deny that. When you steal their stuff or sell them drugs, you’re hurting them. But I’ve never physically assaulted anyone.”
“Do you know why the victim was in Rockton?”
“I heard he was a marshal. That rules me out too—I don’t even own a passport.” He looks at Dalton, who nods.
Sebastian continues. “It caused me some trouble getting in. No passport. No driver’s license. But I didn’t lead the kind of life where I’d be going on vacation to Disney World anytime soon. Didn’t have the kind of family who’d take me, either. As for driving, well, they weren’t my cars, so I didn’t see the point in getting a license.”
“What about your drug crimes?”
“Possession with intent. That’s it. I never hit the big leagues. I guess that’s a good thing. I can honestly say that whatever trouble I got myself into, no one is coming up here after me. My rap sheet might be long, but it’s penny-ante charges.”
“Which brought you up here?”
He hesitates. It’s only a split second before he shrugs, but I notice that pause. “Like I said, it was a long sheet. I pissed off some people. No one who’d have the brains to find this place, though.”
I glance at his shirt again. “What did you want to take at Western?”
His eyes light up. As we’ve been talking, he’s been calm, relaxed. Distant, though. Like a guy interviewing for a job he’d like, but if he doesn’t get it, well, there are others.