was utterly flat, like she was looking through me, almost like I wasn’t there at all. Her hair was light brown, and she wore it full but short, and it ended about the middle of her neck. She had navy slacks and a black blouse and a black jacket. Like her partner, she seemed fit, but unlike him, she seemed long, rather than compact. I’d seen enough lately of how costumers dressed women to know that Hoffman knew she was attractive, and didn’t mind letting others see that, too. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and I didn’t see any jewelry on her, either.
I looked back at Marcus, who sat waiting patiently.
“I guess it’s okay,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure it will be,” he agreed, and he uncapped his pen. “So why don’t we start with you finding your brother, okay?”
I told him how I’d found Mikel, what I’d seen. He didn’t interrupt, scribbling on the pad, and when I glanced at Hoffman, she was still looking through me. It was making me uncomfortable.
When I finished, he asked me to tell it to him again, just to make sure he’d gotten it all down right, and after I’d told it all a second time, he nodded and smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“So why were you in such a hurry to see your brother?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, c’mon, Mim. This has been easy so far, why make it hard now?”
“I really would rather not.”
“Was it to score? Is that why you went to see him?”
“Oh, God, no,” I said. “No. Jesus.”
“You know your brother dealt?”
I shrugged.
“But he didn’t deal for you?”
“No. I’m fine with alcohol. Anything stronger, I retain water.”
He grinned. “No sign of that.”
“He never gave me drugs, I never bought drugs from him. That’s not what happened, anyway, this isn’t a drug thing. It’s Tommy.”
“So you said. Why do you think that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well, it may be, but I’m asking you.”
“Look,” I said, trying to be patient. “Tommy’s a drunk, okay? It runs in the family. When I was eleven he got loaded and ran over our mother with his pickup, and he did it on purpose, and that’s the worst example of what he did drunk, but not the only one by a long shot. He got out of OSP a little while ago, he was staying with Mikel. Tommy got loaded and angry and shot Mikel.”
“Not the other way around?” Hoffman asked. “Not Mikel got loaded and angry and your father just defended himself?”
“Mikel didn’t drink. He didn’t use, either. He just sold the stuff.”
“Yeah, that makes it so much better,” Hoffman muttered, and went back to tapping her folder.
“Did Mikel own a gun?” Marcus asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Did Tommy?”
“Well, he must have, because he shot Mikel.”
Marcus nodded, as if my logic was unimpeachable.
“Was Mikel violent?” Hoffman asked.
I glared at her. “No.”
“What about your father? Tommy?”
“Of course he’s fucking violent, I just told you, he murdered our mother!”
Hoffman’s expression curled, got a little tighter, and I finally realized what I was seeing. She didn’t like me. Maybe it was principle, maybe she was one of those fuck-you-rock-star types. Whatever. It was fine. I didn’t think I liked her much, either.
“When was the last time you saw your brother alive?” Marcus asked.
“Yesterday morning. He came over to my house.”
“So you saw him the day he died.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“What’d you talk about?”
I shook my head. “I really can’t say.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” Hoffman sounded snotty about it.
“I don’t want to, how about that?”
She turned her attention to her partner. “This is a waste of time. Let’s get this over and book her.”
“Tracy, calm down,” Marcus said.
“No, she’s pulling this bitch rock-princess act, she doesn’t give a damn her own brother was murdered, she’s holding out on us, the only reason to do that is guilt, far as I’m concerned.”
Marcus appealed to me. “Mim, you’ve got to help us out, here.”
I looked at him, then at Hoffman, then back to him, then figured it out.
“Good-cop, bad-cop, right? That’s what you’re doing now?”
“Actually, we’re both good cops. My partner’s just a little annoyed that you’re holding out on us.”
I considered, then asked, “Have you found Tommy?”
“We’re not talking about Tommy, we’re talking about you,” Hoffman said.
“Why won’t you answer my question?”
“Why did we find blood in your bathroom?” she asked.
The question threw me, coming unexpectedly. “You searched my house?”
“We had a warrant.”
I showed her my right palm. “I cut my fucking hand. I bleed when that happens.”
“Have you disposed of any clothes?”
“Disposed? What, you mean like thrown out?”
“Yes, I mean like thrown out.”
“No.”
“We only found blood on one shirt, not much. Most of it seems to be on the towels and a pillow and its case.”
“That’s because most of my bleeding was on the towels and the pillowcase,” I snapped.
“Lot of blood,” Hoffman said. “I’d think it’d have gotten on some clothes.”
“It didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was naked when I cut myself,” I told her.
If she had a mental image, it didn’t impress her.
“What about Tommy?” Marcus asked. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Thursday morning. First time I’d seen him in fifteen years was Thursday morning.”
“Did your father say anything about Mikel when he came over? Did he indicate that he and your brother weren’t getting along?”
“We didn’t talk about that.”
“What did you talk about?”
I glared at Hoffman again. She took it the way she’d taken everything else so far. “He told me he’d heard my music and that he wanted to be my dad again.”
Marcus asked, “Did he ask you for money?”
“No.”
“Did you
“No.”
“I’m asking because you seemed uncertain there, for a second,” Marcus said.
“I offered him money. He didn’t take it.”
“I get the impression you don’t like your father. Tommy.”
