Page 123 of Healed Heart
Henry nods.“It’s called Peach Street, made on the Western Slope.My Uncle Talon got me started on it when I turned twenty-one.Best bourbon ever.”
“It is good.Really smooth.”He takes another drink.“Now, about Ralph.Or Ronny?—”
“We’ll get him straightened out in a second,” Henry says.“For right now, we need to focus on you, Jason.You still don’t have an alibi.We might be able to prove that Ralph murdered Lindsay, but all that does is give you a much stronger motive to beat the shit out of him.”
“Well, Idohave an alibi, but I don’t have any witnesses.I was just home alone.”
“Man, that sucks,” Henry says.
The doorbell rings then.
Tabitha comes back into the room.“That’s probably the pizza.I’ll get it, Ange.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Tabitha returns with three pizza boxes and takes them into the kitchen.
“So no luck getting the guy to confess that he had himself beaten up?”Henry asks.
“Nope.He’s standing firm.Says I did it.But I didn’t.”
“You don’t have to keep convincing me.I believe you, man.”
Nice of him, considering he doesn’t even know Jason.But he trusts me, which I appreciate.
“So what were you doing while you were home that night?”Henry asks.
“I’ve already been through all of this with Blake, but if you think it’ll help…”
He shrugs.“You never know.”
“Okay.”Jason draws in a deep breath.“I was home that night.I had just figured out that my wife, Lindsay, probably hadn’t committed suicide, so I was shaken up.I was pacing around a lot.”
“Okay.Is there any way someone might’ve been able to see you from the outside?”
“I don’t know.”He frowns.“Maybe my neighbors.But Angie didn’t see me.I mean, she wasn’t peeping in my windows or anything.I don’t really know any of my other neighbors.I’ve kind of been a loner for the last three years.”
“Did you eat anything?Go to the refrigerator?”
“How is this supposed to help?”Jason asks.“I already went through all of it with Blake.”
“Blake is the best, for sure,” Henry says.“But he’s also old-school.”He crosses his arms.“So did you go to your kitchen?”
Jason wrinkles his forehead.“I know I had a drink.Wasn’t very hungry, but I forced myself to eat a little bit.”
“What did you eat?”
“What does that matter?”
“What you ate doesn’t matter,” Henry says, “but it might jog something else.”
I sit, letting Tabitha serve the pizza.I find this interrogation of Jason really intriguing.“Since when do you know so much about gathering evidence?”I ask Henry.
He chuckles.“I watch a lot of police drama shows.”
I laugh.“Can I get you to have some pizza?”
“Yeah, as soon as I’m done questioning Jason.So what did you eat?”
