'You don't know how she died?'

'No, I told you.'

'Yes, yes. Well, you know, something makes me curious. If you don't know how she died you say you don't, and I have to believe you I'm confused about something. Why don't you want to know how she died?'

Jim looked away from Spencer.

'Jim, I really need your attention on this one. Please look at me when I speak to you. It makes me very uncomfortable when you can't look me in the eye.' It made Spencer more than uncomfortable. It made him suspicious and furious.

Jim cast another furtive glance at the detective, but was not able to meet Spencer's stare for long.

'I'm going to ask you another question. When I came to your door and informed you that your girlfriend of three years was found dead, was that the first you heard of it?'

Jim opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. 'Yes,' he said after a minute. 'It was the first I heard of it.'

'Are you playing games with me?'

'No!'

'Why didn't you ask me how she died, then?'

'Because I thought I knew.'

'Why would you think that?'

'I thought she fell off that damn bridge.'

'Why would you think that?'

'Because I've been half expecting her to fall for three years.'

'You have?'

'Yes.'

'You mean, you thought it was only a matter of time before she died, and so you weren't that surprised?'

'Maybe,' Jim said quietly.

'Do you think she was walking that bridge to die?'

'Something like that,' Jim said, even quieter.

'Do you think she wanted to die?'

He shook his head violently. 'Not when she wasn't drinking. Even then ... she loved life.'

'But not when she drank.'

'No, not as much then.'

'So if she was so full of life, why would she put her life in danger by walking a stone ledge seventy-five feet above a concrete road?'

'I don't know. She gave me some reasons. None of them made any sense.'

'I'll bet they didn't,' said Spencer, and felt a little better about this kid sitting in front of him. This kid that must have felt terrible things underneath that snake skin.

'Well, Jim, Kristina didn't die falling off that bridge.'

Jim didn't look up from his hands, and Spencer thought, wait. He already knows that.

'Jim, a few more questions about these last three days. You told me you didn't see Kristina.'

'No.'

'Did you go back to her room to see if she was there?'

'Yes. She wasn't there.'

'How many times did you go back?'

'Once on Monday and once on Tuesday.'

'What about Wednesday? You know, yesterday?'

'I don't know,' Jim said evasively. 'I don't think I went there Wednesday.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know. I got busy, I guess.'

'Did you at any point think it was strange that Kristina was not in her room?'

'Sometimes she'd disappear. Also it was right after Thanksgiving. I thought maybe she'd gone away and wasn't back yet.'

'What about the dog?'

'What about it?'

The stone wall had come down again. Jim was guarded.

'Had you seen the dog since Sunday?'

'Well, of course. I've been walking him.'

'Did you walk him every day?'

'Yes.'

'And where did Aristotle stay when he wasn't being walked?'

'With me.'

'That wasn't strange?'

'Kristina obviously wasn't back. I took care of the dog.'

'You weren't curious where Kristina was?'

'I was busy. I didn't think much about it.'

'Did you see Albert and Conni after Thanksgiving?'

'Yes, once or twice.'

'Did you by any chance ask them where Kristina had been?'

'No, I didn't.'

'Why not?'

'I just didn't. I had a lot to do, I was preoccupied.'

Spencer again felt uneasy. 'Jim. Answer me. Who did the dog stay with for Thanksgiving?'

'I don't know,' Jim said. 'I mean it. I don't know.'

'What do you mean, "I mean it"? Do you mean you didn't mean it until now when you said "I don't know"? Because you've said "I don't know' a number of times. I'm wondering if you said "I don't know" but meant something else.'

'No, no,' Jim said quickly. 'I mean I gave it no thought before and even now I don't know. I suppose Conni and Albert took the dog with them.'

'With them where?'

'To Conni's parents' house. That's where they went.'

'Why would they do that?'

'I don't know,' said Jim, and Spencer felt that after half an hour of interrogation, he knew even less than before. He was so perplexed that he almost forgot the most important thing. Wednesday. Wednesday before an inch of snow fell on somebody's boots, before an inch of snow fell on a dog who scraped away a hole in the ground to get to his cold mistress.

'Did you walk the dog on Monday?'

'Yes, I'm sure I did.'

'Did you walk him on Tuesday?'

'Yes, I had to. He was with me.'

'Did you walk him on Wednesday?'

There was the briefest pause, and then Jim said, 'Yes, I suppose I did.'

'You remember where you walked him?'

'All around. I really don't remember.'

'Where do you usually walk him?'

'All over, I guess. We go to the river sometimes.'

'How do you get there from Hinman?'

'We walk through the woods. There is a little path behind Hinman. We go down there.'

'Did you go down there on Wednesday?'

'I don't know. I really don't remember.'

'Really?' said Spencer. 'Is that a really don't remember? And do you mean it this time?'

Jim looked back down at his hands, and Spencer bent down under the table for a moment and then lifted his head back up and said, 'Nice shoes, Jim. What kind of shoes are they?'

Jim looked at Spencer, bewildered. 'I beg your pardon?'

'The shoes, Jim. What kind of shoes are those?'

Jim briefly looked at his shoes and then quickly back at Spencer O'Malley, who now sat with his own palms pressed against the round Formica table, but that was only so he wouldn't clench them. Their gaze met, and Spencer knew that Jim understood precisely, precisely, what Spencer was getting at.

Heaving a big sigh, and taking his hands off the table and placing them on his lap, Jim said quietly, 'Doc Martens.'

CHAPTER FIVE.

Close Friends

Spencer never took his eyes off Jim.

'What do you say, Jim?' said Spencer quietly, thinking, those hands may never do college work again. They may be folding laundry for about twenty-five to life.