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  ‘I can imagine,’ Detective Champion said.

  It dawned on me that I said, ‘I need to take my son.’ Not, ‘My husband and I need to take our son.’ Or even, ‘We need to take our son.’ I wondered why. Well, he was quite good-looking. I mentally shook myself.

  Getting down to business, I said, ‘I’d also like to get him a change of—’

  ‘I can’t let you take anything out of the room at this point, ma’am,’ the detective said.

  I nodded. ‘If you have a card, I can call you when we find a place and let you know where we are.’

  He pulled a cardholder out of his breast pocket and took out a card. ‘That would be great, ma’am,’ he said. ‘But I’ll need your son to come down to the station later today to sign a statement. Do you know where we’re located?’

  I nodded. ‘I went to school here. The station’s still downtown, right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, on Eighth Street.’

  ‘Right where I left it,’ I said and smiled. He didn’t smile back. Oh my God, I was flirting. A dead body of a boy on the floor a few feet away and here I was, flirting! Not to mention my husband across the street dealing with our traumatized children. I knew at some point I was going to feel guilty about that. I thanked him for the card and headed back to the elevator.

  TWO

  Detective Champion had definitely noticed that the victim’s roommate’s mother was flirting with him. On any other day he would have jumped at the chance to get to know a redhead with the body of, as his father used to say, a brick outhouse. But seeing that there was a good possibility he was going to be arresting her son, he decided now might not be a good time to flirt back.

  The kid had seemed very forthcoming when he’d talked to him earlier, even giving him the name of the vic’s ex-girlfriend, saying how she keyed his car twice and sent the vic a box of Ex-Lax brownies. Champion had had a girl play that one on him back in college and he almost lost his basketball scholarship because of the days he missed. But, as far as he was concerned, that gave the vic a motive to kill his ex, not the other way around.

  He’d just gotten back to his workstation after interviewing the ex-girlfriend, Gretchen Morley, at her ritzy sorority house, and things weren’t looking good for the Pugh kid. Champion had had to break the news to the girl and she’d broken down, clinging to him and sobbing like her heart was broken. She was just a kid, but he hadn’t minded holding on to her. She was as close to beautiful as he’d ever seen. Honey-blonde hair, turquoise-blue eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion and full, pouty lips. While he’d been holding her, and after his temptation to flirt with the Pugh kid’s mother, he’d thought maybe it was time he started dating again. He’d been divorced now for six whole weeks.

  Champion had finally got her to sit down in the chair by her desk, taking the chair at the matching desk for himself. If she had a roommate, she hadn’t been visible to Champion.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ he’d said to the girl.

  ‘Thank you,’ she’d said, stifling a sob. ‘It’s just so sudden! A car wreck?’

  ‘No.’ He’d cleared his throat. This was the second hardest part of the job. The first hardest was telling someone their loved one was dead – telling them their loved one had been murdered was almost as hard. ‘I’m sorry to say he was stabbed to death.’

  Gretchen’s hands had flown to her mouth as she’d attempted to stifle a small scream. ‘Who on earth?’

  ‘We don’t know that as yet. Do you know if he had any enemies?’ Champion had asked.

  ‘You mean other than his roommate?’ she’d countered.

  ‘Graham Pugh was considered an enemy?’

  ‘Well, I mean, outwardly they got along OK, but Bish …’ She’d sobbed at the mention of his name. ‘Bish told me he woke up in the middle of the night more than once and saw Graham sitting up in bed, staring at him. And Bish said, “If looks could kill …”’ Her hands had flown to her mouth again and she’d sobbed.

  ‘Miss Morley …’ Champion had started.

  ‘Call me Gretch,’ she’d said with a small smile.

  ‘Miss Morley, did you ever see Graham Pugh show any animosity toward Bishop?’

  ‘No, not really. Not me, anyway, but I heard about fights the two had. Last semester everybody was talking about it.’

  ‘Who’s everybody?’ Champion had asked.

  ‘Well, let’s see.’ She’d put a pinkie to her lower lip and stared off into space. ‘I’m trying to remember where I heard it.’

  ‘Did Bishop tell you about it?’

  ‘No, no, that was before we started dating. I think Lexie Thurgood told me.’

  ‘Lexie Thurgood? Where do I find her? Or him?’ Champion had written the name down on his pad.

  ‘Definitely a her. She lives at McMillan Hall, just like Bish does …’ She’d sobbed. ‘I mean did!’ She’d put her hands over her entire face this time and rocked as she’d sobbed.

  Champion couldn’t help thinking this one was going to make some young man’s life a living hell. But, he thought, it might just be worth it.

  He’d gone to the admin office after he’d left Gretchen Morley’s dorm room and checked out Lexie Thurgood. She was a sophomore and did live at McMillan Hall, on the same floor as Bishop and his roommate, just a different wing.

  He had been hitting on all cylinders that day, finding Lexie at home just like he’d found Gretchen. It usually didn’t work out that well. Lexie had already heard about the death and had actually been in the hall watching ‘the action,’ as she called it. He thought possibly she was a basketball player. If she wasn’t, the Lady Longhorns were missing a bet. She was almost his height, six foot and four inches, wiry but not skinny, with a long face and short hair. She wasn’t unattractive. Yeah, he’d thought. I need to start dating again for damn sure.

  After she’d invited him in and he’d sat down – her on her twin bed, he on her desk chair – he’d said, ‘Gretchen Morley told me you told her about a big fight Bishop Alexander and Graham Pugh got into last semester.’

  She’d shrugged. ‘Well, it wasn’t that big. They weren’t beating each other up or anything. Just yelling at each other. Got kinda heated. Lots of “Fuck you” and “No, fuck you,” and crap like that.’

  ‘Where was this?’ Champion had asked.

  ‘In the hall. Close to their room, I think. I’d just gotten off the elevator and had to pass by them.’

  ‘Did you stop?’ he’d asked.

  Lexie had grinned. ‘Not where they could see me. Of course, the way they were going at it, I doubt they would have even noticed me. But I sorta stopped close enough where I could hear what was going on.’

  ‘And what was going on?’ Champion had asked.

  Lexie had shrugged. ‘Never did find out. Like I said, they were just throwing F-bombs all over the place.’

  ‘No shoving, anything like that?’ he’d asked.

  Again, she’d shrugged. ‘Not that I saw. Of course, I didn’t stay for the whole thing. Like I said, just F-bombs. That can get boring after a bit.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ he’d said. Standing, he’d added, ‘Well, thank you for your time, Miss Thurgood. If you think of anything else, or hear anything else, you’ll let us know?’

  She’d stood and walked him to the door. ‘Definitely,’ she’d said. ‘I mean, like I never thought Graham could get violent but, you know, you never know.’

  He’d left McMillan Hall thinking he now had two people who thought Graham Pugh was a likely suspect.

  We found a motel near IH 35 that didn’t cost an arm and a leg and had two double rooms next to each other. We put the girls in one and had Graham share the other with us. I wanted him close. I didn’t know if, or probably when, he was going to totally lose it. I thought it best that Willis and I were within reach. They were run-of-the-mill motel rooms, their only outstanding feature the small fridges in each room. Willis took the girls to the nearest grocery store with a small list I’d made of necessities.
Orange juice, sodas, bottled water, cookies and chocolate. This was a traumatic situation: chocolate was definitely called for.

  When those four were gone, I had a chance to talk to my son.

  ‘Did you tell Dad I did it?’ he asked me, sitting on ‘his’ bed, his arms dangling between his legs, his head bent to face the floor.

  ‘You didn’t do it,’ I said. ‘And there was no reason for me to tell your dad that you did.’

  ‘Mom,’ he said, finally looking at me. ‘What if I did? I mean, God, I really hated the guy! I was even thinking about killing him! And then … And then … Jeez, Mom, if I didn’t do it, what the hell?’

  ‘Did you wake up with blood all over you?’ I asked him.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘How could you have stabbed him in your sleep and not have blood all over you the next morning? All over you, your bed linens, the floor by your bed!’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yeah.’ He perked up. ‘Maybe I didn’t do it!’ he said, looked at me and attempted to smile.

  ‘Honey, there’s no way,’ I said, reaching across the space between the two queen-sized beds to touch his arm. ‘You didn’t do it, OK?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, the smile fading. ‘Maybe I didn’t. But who the hell did?’ he asked, his voice rising. ‘And why didn’t they kill me too?’

  ‘Maybe because you haven’t pissed off as many people as Bishop had?’ I suggested.

  He nodded. ‘Well, that’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t think it would be possible to do that.’

  I called Detective Champion after my talk with Graham, to let him know where we were staying, and he suggested, yet again, that I bring Graham to the station to sign his statement. I got his location in the large police building on Eighth Street in downtown Austin and, when Willis and the girls got back, I took Willis’s pickup – which I hate to drive, but one does what one must – and Graham and I headed downtown.

  I hadn’t been in that building since the day I got detained (not arrested, mind you) with fourteen of my closest friends having a sit-in in front of the home-economics department at the university. We were trying to get them to change the name and allow men into the classes. I think that finally happened but it was after my time.

  The place had changed. It looked better. Newer than it had. Brighter. I think maybe they’d refurbished the place. We took an elevator to Detective Champion’s floor and found his cubicle.

  ‘Mrs Pugh,’ he said, extending his hand. We shook. ‘Graham,’ he said and shook hands with my son. ‘Why don’t we take this to one of the small conference rooms. More privacy.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said and smiled tentatively. He didn’t smile back. Jeez, I had to stop this.

  But once we got into the ‘small conference room,’ I knew I wouldn’t be smiling much at Champion again. It looked a lot more like an interrogation room to me. Scarred table with graffiti all over it, an obvious two-way mirror and a door that he locked behind him. Why he was allowing me in here I wasn’t sure. Maybe he thought Graham was underage, but he was fairly stupid if that was what he thought. Yes, my crush was definitely over.

  ‘Where’s my son’s statement?’ I asked, holding Graham’s arm to keep him from sitting down.

  ‘We’ll get to that,’ Champion said, taking a seat. ‘Please, won’t you both sit down?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, still holding Graham’s arm. ‘We’re here to sign a statement, not be stuck in an obvious interrogation room. We’d like to leave now.’

  ‘Ma’am,’ Champion said, his voice getting stern, ‘I wanted to give you the benefit of sitting in on this interview, but, seeing as how your son’s an adult, I could certainly ask you to leave.’

  ‘Mom, let’s just hear him out,’ Graham said, pulling away from me and sitting down. I took the seat next to him, trying not to stare at my reflection in the two-way mirror.

  ‘OK,’ Champion said, hitting the record button on a tape player on his side of the table. ‘This is Detective Nate Champion, January third, four-thirty p.m. With me are Mrs—’

  He turned and looked at me. ‘First name?’

  ‘Eloise.’

  ‘Mrs Eloise Pugh and her son, Graham Pugh.’ Turning to Graham, he said, ‘How were you acquainted with the deceased, Bishop Truman Alexander?’

  ‘He was my roommate,’ Graham said.

  ‘How long were the two of you acquainted?’

  ‘We met back in August when we both moved into our dorm room at McMillan Hall on Guadalupe.’

  ‘You both attend or attended the University of Texas at Austin, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did the two of you get along?’ Champion asked.

  ‘Pretty much,’ Graham answered.

  ‘And what exactly do you mean by “pretty much”?’ Champion asked.

  Graham shrugged, realized the recorder couldn’t pick that up and said, ‘I mean, I didn’t like him but nobody much did.’

  ‘Did the two of you ever fight?’

  ‘You mean like punch each other out? No, not ever.’

  ‘Verbally fight?’ Champion asked.

  Again, my son shrugged. ‘Yeah, sure. Like I said, he was a pain in the ass— I mean neck.’

  ‘Are you aware that there are witnesses to these very heated verbal exchanges?’ Champion asked.

  ‘Wait a damn minute!’ I said, putting my hand over Graham’s mouth to keep him silent. ‘Witnesses to what? And who are these witnesses?’

  ‘Mrs Pugh, I can ask you to leave at my discretion,’ Champion said.

  I took my hand off Graham’s mouth. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ Graham said. ‘I mean, we had a fight once out in the hall so I guess somebody coulda heard it.’

  ‘What was the fight about?’ Champion asked.

  ‘That time? Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe that was the time he accused me of dating some chick he had the hots for. Or maybe it was the time he accused me of taking some food out of the refrigerator that he said was his. Hell, it didn’t have his name on it! Or it coulda been the time he said I left a mess in the bathroom! I don’t know! He was always on my case about something! And it was usually bullshit!’

  ‘Is that why you would sit up in bed staring at him in the middle of night?’ Champion asked.

  ‘Huh?’ Graham said.

  ‘The victim told someone that he would wake up in the middle of the night quite often and find you staring at him. The witness reported that the victim said that if looks could kill, he’d have been dead.’

  I stood up. ‘Either arrest my son right now or we’re out of here. No more questions without our attorney present.’

  Graham looked at me with fear in his eyes and all I wanted to do was take him in my arms and tell him mommy was going to take care of everything. But something told me this time it wasn’t going to be a boo-boo easily fixed.

  THREE

  ‘Did you call Tom?’ I asked Willis.

  ‘He’s out of town, Robin said,’ Willis answered. I’d asked him to call our neighbor Tom Kenney, a criminal attorney, but that wasn’t working out.

  ‘Did Robin say when he’d be home?’ I asked.

  ‘No, but she gave me a number of a guy here in Austin that Tom uses sometimes. Stuart Freeman.’ He held out a slip of paper with an Austin area code. ‘You want to call him or you want me to?’ Willis asked, thrusting the paper at me to let me know in no uncertain terms what his choice was.

  ‘You do it,’ I said.

  ‘You know I’m not good at this sort of thing,’ my husband whined.

  ‘You’re better at it than I am,’ I said. ‘You know I don’t like lawyers.’

  ‘You don’t even know this one! Besides, you like Tom!’

  ‘Tom’s different. I like him as a neighbor, not as a lawyer,’ I countered.

  ‘That’s stupid,’ Willis said.

  ‘You’re stupid,’ I shot back. I’m clever that way.

  ‘It’s my head in the noose,’ Graham said from his bed where we
thought he was asleep – the reason we’d mostly been whispering our argument. ‘I’ll make the damn call.’

  He sat up and reached for the slip of paper still in Willis’s hand. Willis moved it out of his reach. ‘You gonna pay for it?’ Willis asked. Graham didn’t respond. ‘I think an attorney would rather talk to the person paying the bill.’

  ‘Ah ha!’ I said, pointing at him. ‘That’ll be you! I don’t get a book check for another couple of weeks so you have to pay.’

  ‘It’s a joint account,’ he countered.

  ‘Jesus, you two!’ Graham said. ‘I need a fucking lawyer!’

  ‘Watch your mouth, son!’ Willis said.

  ‘Whatever. Just give me a break, OK? I can’t take much more!’ Graham said.

  Willis and I looked at each other. I’m not sure what my husband was feeling, but shame, embarrassment and guilt were warring with each other in my stunted psyche.

  ‘I’ll call,’ we both said in unison. Then Willis said, ‘I’ve got the number. I’ll do it.’ With that he took his cell phone and went into the bathroom to make the call.

  I looked at my son. ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah. Whatever.’

  I sat down on his bed next to him. ‘This is all bull, honey, and you know it. As soon as the lawyer presents the fact that there was no blood on you or around you this morning to that asshole Champion, maybe they can get down to the real business of finding out who did this.’

  Graham looked up at me with his father’s beautiful brown eyes and said, ‘Can’t you look into it? You do it for everybody else – why not me?’

  I sighed. ‘For one thing, I get a small amount of cooperation from Luna,’ I said, mentioning our next-door neighbor and head homicide detective for the Codderville police department, ‘which I doubt I’ll get from Champion. And also, I know our area, I know who to talk to, all that stuff. Stuff I haven’t a clue about here.’

  Graham sat up. ‘Yeah, but I do! I know lots of people in our dorm, and some of the girls Bishop dated, and guys he screwed over one way or another. I could help!’