“I run through there. I don’t stop and grab a beer.”
“Ever stop?” she says. “Like, say, around North and Winchester? Or maybe Wabansia and Winchester?”
“I don’t know Winchester,” I say. “I know North Avenue. Wabansia’s right around there, I know.”
“You don’t know Winchester?”
“No, I don’t. Is that one of those side streets?”
“You ever stop right around Winchester, between Wabansia and North, and send text messages from a burner phone?”
“Whoa,” I say. “That’s specific. Sounds like you’ve got a whole theory going. What’s the theory?”
“Just asking you a question, Simon.”
“No, you’re not. You want me to know you have a theory. So let’s hear it. What did I do, criminal mastermind that I am?” I scoot forward in my chair, lean toward her. “Did I spike my own Gatorade?”
She waits me out.
“You get together with those cops from St. Louis,” I say, “before long, you’ll accuse me of kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. Did I kill JFK, too, and pin it on Lee Harvey Oswald?”
We seem to be well past pretense. I can’t know everything she knows, but if she’s gotten as far as Nick, she has a pretty good theory of a case that keeps me in the clear. Presumably, they’ve found half of Nick’s toiletry kit at Lauren’s house, the other half at his place. And I know they’ve already pulled the historical cell-service data, hence the questions about text messages from a burner phone near Winchester, where Nick lived. The evidence is lining up away from me.
And yet, Jane is certain she is looking at a guilty man. I always remembered her as a smart one.
“Ever been to Lauren’s condo building downtown on Michigan Avenue?”
“No.”
“Corner of Superior and Michigan?”
“I have not been to her condo.” That’s true enough. Never inside her condo.
“You must know there are security cameras all inside that building.”
I do. And I went there once, just inside the lobby, when I first saw her in May. Stupid, but I did it. I didn’t mention that to Jane, but I did mention seeing her on Michigan Avenue, so even if the security cameras in her condo building are retained for that long, back to May, and they see me standing in the lobby for five seconds, I’ll just say it’s consistent with what I already told them.
“I have never been in Lauren’s condo,” I repeat.
She smiles. “And you’re certain that you’ve never been to her house in Grace Village? The one on Lathrow?”
“I have never been to her house. I think we already covered that.”
“What about Halloween night,” says Jane. “Where were you?”
“Right here. Handing out candy.”
“Until what time?”
“Until... whenever it ended,” I say. “Actually, I ran out of candy. It’salways a dilemma, how much candy to buy, right? You buy too little, you run out. You buy too much, then it sits in your pantry all winter and you eat it. It’s a real conundrum.”
I practiced that line. I’ve been rehearsing for this conversation since Halloween. I liked this little ditty, with a little nudge of sarcasm at the end. But hearing it now, under the circumstances, as the temperature has dropped in this room, it sounds forced.
I can end this at any time. I can terminate this conversation and call a lawyer. I just need to know everything they know. I need to know if they’re anywhere near Vicky.
“Were you alone?” Jane asks. “Or was your girlfriend with you?”
Yep, she’s still fishing.