“You ever met a werewolf or a vampire, Detective? Or a witch?”
“Like. . .on that crazy radio show?”
The Midnight Hour. Kitty’s show. Cormac knew the talk-radio advice show well and had accidentally appeared on it a couple of times. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Exactly like that.”
“There’s some weird stuff in the world, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He told the story as simply as he could, leaving Amelia out of it because that really would complicate things. He produced the printout of Durant’s picture from his pocket and smoothed it flat. Nielson studied it.
Cormac tapped the photo. “I think I’m being framed. Durant’s first hit against me failed. So now she’s trying something a little more dramatic.”
“And where is Isabelle Durant now?”
“I’d sure like to know.”
The photos of Aubrey’s body remained on the table. Cormac couldn’t not look at them. This woman was dead because of him. He’d come into her life and this was what happened.
Finally, Nielson collected the photos and other papers and slipped them back in their folder. “Mr. Bennett, I’d like you to give me a full accounting of your whereabouts, where you’ve been and anyone else you’ve talked to, since you arrived in the area.”
Which included hours and hours of sitting in the Jeep with no one to verify. “Am I being charged with anything?”
“Not yet. Finish that accounting and you can go.”
“Can I talk to my lawyer first? I have him on speed dial.”
She frowned; he was making her job difficult. “How about this. Just don’t leave town. You think you can do that?”
“You know I didn’t do it. But it would sure look good on paper to charge me with it. Durant’s counting on that.”
Scowling, Nielson drew a card out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “You think of anything you forgot to tell me, or if you get a lead you think I’d like to know about, you call me.”
“I can go?”
“For now.”
She was going to have a patrol car on him until he left the state, he was pretty sure. But at least she let him go.
Outside, away from prying ears, he called Ben back.
“They let me go,” he said in greeting.
“Are you going to tell me the whole story now?” Ben demanded.
Cormac started to. He int
ended to. But Ben would have too many questions. “It’s complicated,” he said, and Ben’s sigh of frustration on the other end of the line was obvious. “I’ve been told not to leave town.”
“That’s just in case they need to talk to you again. It doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“There’s a body, Ben. Someone I had contact with a couple days ago. I didn’t do it.” What did it mean, that he had to say that out loud, even to Ben? “They don’t have any physical evidence. But my record’s raising eyebrows.”
“What’s the detective’s name? I’ll see if I can hit up my contacts, call Detective Hardin here, find out if we can pull any strings.”
“Put in a good word for me?”
“Something like that. Meanwhile don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. In any more trouble.”