"But what, Ben?"

"No one will believe me."

"Why?"

"You don't."

"All I know are the facts that Dennis gave me. Unless you tell me different, why should I believe otherwise?"

"Dennis doesn't."

"Why should he?"

He looked up, still bowed, face angled awkwardly. "He knows me."

"Then if you've got an alibi, give it to him."

He straightened and returned his eyes to the wall.

Shaking his head.

"What is it?" I said.

"No alibi."

"Then what's your story?"

More headshaking, then silence.

"What's your last memory before they found you with Betty?"

No answer.

"When did you start drinking last night?"

"I didn't."

"But you were drunk when they found you."

"They say."

"You didn't drink but you were drunk?"

"I don't drink."

"Since when?"

"A long time."

"Since you cleaned up in high school?"

Hesitation. Nod.

"Were you drunk in Hawaii? The Peeping Tom bust?"

He started to cry again. Growled and stiffened and managed to hold it in check.

"What happened in Hawaii, Ben?"

"Nothing- it was a big… mistake."

"You weren't peeping?"

Suddenly he laughed so heartily, it caused him to rock, rattling the bunk.

Taking hold of his cheeks, he tugged down and created a sad-clown face, horribly at odds with the laughter.

"Big mistake. Big, big, big mistake."

After that, he stopped talking, fluctuating between long bouts of silence and incongruous laughter.

Some kind of breakdown?

Or faking it?

"I just don't understand it, Ben. You claim you didn't kill Betty, but you seem awfully comfortable being a suspect. Maybe it is something to do with Moreland. I'm going back to the estate to talk to him."

I moved toward the cell door.

"You wouldn't understand," he said.

"Try me."

He shook his head.

"What's so damned profound that you can't part with it?" I said. "The fact that you grew up low status and now you're being thought of as the scum of the earth again? Sure, it's a cruel irony, but what happened to those girls was a hell of a lot crueler, so forgive me if I don't shed tears."

"I-" Shaking his head again.

"Everything comes round, Ben. Big insight. I'm a psychologist, I've heard it before."

"You- you're wasting your time. Dr. Bill is. Best to cut me loose."

"Why?"

"I- don't stand a chance. Because of who I am- what you just said. Scum family, scum child. Before Dr. Bill took me in, they wanted to send me to reform school. I… used to do bad things."

"Bad things?"

"That's why this makes sense to everyone. Dennis knows me, and he thinks I did it. When they brought me in, their faces- everyone's."

He looked back at the wall. Put a finger to his mouth and tried to get a purchase on what remained of the cuticle.

"What about their faces?" I said.

The finger flew out. "No! You're wasting your time! They found me there. With her. I know I wouldn't- couldn't have done it, but they found me. What can I say? I'm starting to think I…"

This time he let the tears come.

When his sobs subsided, I said, "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"No!"

"Did you kill AnneMarie Valdos?"

"No!"

"What about the Peeping Tom thing?"

"That was stupid! A bunch of us from the Guard were on weekend leave; we went to a club in Waikiki. Everyone was drinking and partying. Usually I had ginger ale, this time I thought I could… handle it. Had a beer. Stupid. Stupid. Then another… I'm a stupid asshole, okay? We tried to pick up some girls, couldn't, went to walk it off in some residential neighborhood. I had to take a… needed to urinate. Found a garage wall, behind some house. The window to the house was open. She heard. We got caught- I did. The others ran."

He looked at me.

"That doesn't sound terrible," I said. "If that's really the way it happened."

"It is. That's the only filthy thing I've ever done since… I reformed."

"What was your relationship with Betty?"

"I knew her. Knew her family."

"Did she have a reputation for fooling around?"

"I guess."

"Did you fool around with her?"

"No!"

"No affair?"

"No! I love my wife- my life is clean!"

"Her baby wasn't yours?"

"I love my wife! My life is clean!"

"Repeating it won't make it so."

He started to come toward me, stopped himself. "It's true."

"Did you know she had the clap?"

Surprise on his face. Genuine?

"I don't know about that. My life is clean."

"So how'd you end up in the park with your head on Betty's entrails?"

"I- it's a… it's a crazy story, you'll never believe it." Closing his eyes. "Just go. Tell Dr. Bill to forget about me. He's got important things to do."

"You're pretty important to him."

He shook his head violently.

"Tell me the story, Ben."

The head kept shaking.

"Why not?"

He stopped. Another smile. Enigmatic. "Too stupid. I couldn't even tell Claire- wouldn't believe it myself."

"Try me. I'm used to strange stories."

Silence.

"Keeping quiet just makes you look guilty, Ben."

"Everything makes me look guilty," he said. "If you keep your mouth shut, you can't swallow flies."

"Did Moreland tell you that? His quotations are usually a little more elegant."

"No," he said sharply. "My… father."

"What other words of wisdom did your father give you?"

Keeping his eyes closed, he tightened the lids.

Lying down on the bunk, face to the skimpy straw mattress.

"Okay," I said. "Maybe you should save it for your lawyer, anyway. Dennis has called for a public defender from Saipan. It'll take at least two days, maybe longer. Anything you want me to tell Moreland other than to abandon you?"

No movement.

I called out Dennis's name.

Deputy Ed Ruiz shuffled in and produced a key. "Say anything?"

I didn't answer.

The toothless mouth creased in contempt. "Figures. His old man never said anything either when we used to throw his ass in here. Just lie there, like he's doing. Like some damn piece of wood. Then, soon as the lights went out, he'd start having those drunk-dreams, screaming about things eating him alive."

He put the key in the lock.

"When it got so loud we couldn't stand it, we'd hose him off and that would work for a while. Then he'd sleep again and go right back into those DTs. All night like that. Next morning, he'd be denying he did anything. Few days later, he'd be sauced up again, insult some woman or grab her, take a poke at some guy, and be back in here, the same damn thing all over."

He came forward, pointing at Ben. "Only difference is, Daddy used to sleep on the top bunk. We'd put him on the bottom, but he'd always find a way to get up there, no matter how drunk. Then, of course, he'd roll off in the middle of the night, fall on his ass, crack his head. But climb right back on top, the stupid shithead. Stubborn-stupid. Some people don't learn."

He snickered and turned the key.

Behind me, Ben said, "Hold on."