Q Is for Quarry

full of butts, there was a tumble of paperback books on the floor by his bed, a mix of mystery and science fiction. The room smelled of ripe sheets and stale cigarette smoke. I'd have killed myself if I were forced to live in a place like this. On the other hand, Frankie was used to prison, so this was probably an improvement.
    There was no place to sit so the two of us stood while Frankie crawled back in bed and pulled the sheet across his lap. The ensuing conversation seemed bizarre, like a visit with Stacey in his hospital room. I'd never seen anyone other than the chronically ill opt to be interviewed prone. It suggested a wary sort of self-confidence. He straightened the sheet and folded the top over once. "You can skip the small talk. I'm working again tonight and I need my sleep."
    "We'd like to ask you about the time you spent in Lompoc before you got picked up."
    "What about it?"
    "How you got there, what you were doing before your arrest?"
    "Don't remember. I was stoned. I had shit for brains back then."
    "When the officers pulled you over, you were six miles from the spot where a young girl's body was found."
    "Wonderful. And where was that?"
    "Near Grayson Quarry. You know the place?"
    "Everybody knows Grayson. It's been there for years."
    "It seems like quite a coincidence."
    "That I was six miles away? Bullshit. I have family in the area. My dad's lived in the same house forty-four years. I was on my way to visit."
    "After killing Cathy Lee."
    "I hope you aren't here coughing up that old hair ball. I'll tell you one thing, they never should have nailed me for murder one. That was strictly self-defense. She came at me with a pair of scissors – not that I need to justify myself to you."
    "Why'd you run? Hardly the actions of an innocent man."
    "I never said I was innocent. I said – oh hell, why should I tell you? I was in a panic, if you want to know the truth. You do meth, you don't think straight. Temper runs hot and you think everybody's after you."
    "No need to be defensive," Dolan said.
    "Please forgive me. I beseech you. People wake me up, I get cranky sometimes."
    Dolan smiled. "You get cranky, you fly off the handle, is that it?"
    "You know what? I've done my time. Not a mark on my record in seventeen years. Credit for time served, good behavior, the whole shootin' match. Now I'm out, I'm clean, and I'm gainfully employed so you can go fuck yourself. No offense."
    "Prison did you some good."
    "Yes, it did. See that? Rehabilitation works. I'm living proof. Went from bad to good and now I'm free as a bird."
    "Not quite. You're still on parole."
    "You think I don't know that? All the fuckin' rules they lay down? Tell you something, you won't catch me in violation. I'm way too smart. I'm willing to play fair because I don't intend to go back in. And I mean, ever."
    "You know the problem with you, Frankie?"
    "What's that, Lieutenant? I'm sure you'll spell it out in great detail."
    "You may be righteous today, but back then you didn't know enough to keep your big mouth shut."
    "Come on. What is this?"
    "I told you. We have an unsolved homicide with circumstances similar to Cathy Lee's."
    "Yeah, well, I can't help you there. I don't know jack about that. You want anything else, you can talk to my attorney."
    "And who's that?"
    "Haven't hired one yet, but I'll let you know. Where's this horseshit coming from, or is that classified?"
    "We got somebody willing to put the ju-ju on you."
    "Ju-ju, my ass. What have you got, some ex-con having lunch on my expense account? I didn't kill the chick. You're full of shit."
    "That's not what our witness says. He says you bragged about it afterward."
    "You're blowin' smoke and you know it. You had anything on me, you'd've showed up with a warrant instead of this hokey song-and-dance routine."
    Dolan shook his head. "I don't know, Frankie. I figure you had a hard-on for the girl and when she wouldn't put out, you lost control of yourself."
    "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Frankie made a gesture like he was whacking off.
    "Why don't you own up to it? You could really help us out. Show your heart's in the right place now that you've turned over this new leaf."
    Frankie smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You think I'd be dumb enough to sit here and confess? To what? You got nothing on me. I don't even know who the fuck you're talking about."
    "I'm not here to hassle you."
    "Good, because I'm trying not to lose my cool. You want a urine sample, I'll piss in a cup. You want to