Page 5 of Fade Out
“Asleep,” I said. That wasn’t good and I knew it. But it wasn’t a good idea to make up an alibi.
“Alone?”
“Probably.”
“You’re shitting me. You don’t know if you were alone?”
“I drank a bunch of NyQuil. Slept for about twelve hours. I was alone when I got in bed and I was alone when I got out. I couldn’t tell you what happened in between. ”
That was true. Joseph might have come home and slept a few hours next to me. I had no idea. Or maybe he came home and grabbed a few things and went out again. That was also possible. Unlikely, but possible.
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
“My friend is in the hospital. When I left there my boyfriend stayed. He might have come back to the apartment. I don’t know. He wasn’t there when I woke up.”
“So your boyfriend lives with you?”
“Not anymore.”
“You just said he might have come home Saturday night. That implies—”
“He left me on Monday.”
“Because you killed Rita Lindquist?”
“No.”
“Really? He wouldn’t mind living with a murderer?”
I just stared at him.
“Why’d he dump your ass then?”
“None of your business.”
“How do I get a hold of this boyfriend?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s his name? You do know his name, don’t you? Or by boyfriend do you mean some one night stand you picked up on the street?”
“Joseph Biernacki.”
He wrote that down.
“So you have no alibi and you hated Rita. That doesn’t look very fucking good.”
“You’re going to need more than that.”
“You used your credit card,” he said, cryptically.
“What is that supposed to mean? What did I use it for?”
“You used your credit card when you called Quickie Courier.”
“Quickie Courier? Why would I—oh shit.” Things started to make a little bit more sense. The other day a courier had been struggling up the stairs with a large box when I came in—“Are you telling me Rita Lindquist was in the box that arrived on Monday?”
“I don’t need to tell you that. You already know that.”
