"The dog," I say.
"I'm the top hat. You know going to jail is part of the game. It's going to happen. But what if I drew the card, then picked up your dog and put it in jail? You don't accept it as part of the game anymore. I'm fine with dying. I just want it to be with my own game piece. I want the chance to roll those doubles."
“Time’s up,” the officer says.
“Here,” Xavier says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and holds it up to the officer so he can see there's no threat, then folds it again. “Take this. When you find her, look for the other pieces.”
He holds it out to me, and I take it. The officer comes up, and Xavier willingly offers his wrists to be handcuffed. He starts to pull him toward the door.
"Xavier?"
The officer stops, so Xavier can look at me. "You say you're at peace with what comes next. Do you really believe there is something next? Even here, you see it?"
He smiles now.
"Yes. Especially here. And shouldn't it be? Here it's probably needed the most. Andrew deserved it, too, you know. To take his turn."
"But someone put his piece in the jail," I say.
He shakes his head. "No. Someone pulled his card."
"Come on. Time's up," the officer says.
Xavier indicates the officer with a quick pop of his head to the side. "Buttered popcorn. Both snack and jellybean." The officer starts to pull him to the door again, but he's still looking at me. "You know another reason the peanuts would choose me?"
"Why, Xavier?"
The smile curves a little wider.
"People think I'm nuts, but I'm not."
Chapter Thirty-Six
"I don't know if I'm allowed to laugh at that."
Dean sits on the second bed in my hotel room and rips a roast beef sandwich into little pieces before eating each as its own bite.
“I think so,” I say. “I mean, he seemed to realize it was funny. But I think it was more than that. Obviously, peanuts are legumes, not nuts, so it's a literal statement. But he's also not crazy. Haha. It's funny. But that's not it. Just about everything that came out of his mouth meant something else.”
“So, he was speaking in riddles?” Dean asks.
“Yes, but I don't think he meant to. It's not as if he was doing it for effect. I honestly think that’s the way his mind works. He was just saying to me what was going on in his head. He just doesn't know how to unravel it to make other people understand it,” I say.
“Do you believe him? Do you think he was wrongfully convicted?” he asks.
“I think so,” I nod. “Not that I know enough about the case or about him to actually make that assumption, but just by being in the same room with him, I want to say I believe him. I don't know how to explain it, but there was something about him. It's not like other people. He comes into the room, and he's there. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Dean scrunches up his face in confusion.
“I knew it wouldn't. It's just that—he’s got some sort of different presence. Being next to him is so different from being next to other people, as if there's more to him,” I say.
“Should I tell Sam to be concerned you're falling under the spell of a convicted murderer?” he raises an eyebrow.
"It's not like that."
"Alright, well, what else did he say? Let's see if we can figure it out. Maybe we'll create a Xavier-to-people dictionary."
I glare at him. "That's not funny."
"I'm serious. As you said, he doesn't know how to make people understand what he's thinking. He frames it the best way he can, and it comes out of his mouth that way. If we can figure out what he's saying and how he's saying it, you might be able to communicate with him more easily. Or at least help people understand him."
"I don't know if he really cares about people understanding him. At least, not as a general rule. I'm sure he'd like it if people would listen when he explains to them that he didn't murder Andrew Eagan."
"What happened to Andrew, anyway?" Dean asks.
"He was found dead in Xavier's garage. Carbon monoxide poisoning."
"He couldn't just break the car window and turn it off so the exhaust would stop?"
"There was no car," I say. "He doesn't drive. The fumes came from a faulty heater that couldn't be turned off. Apparently, Xavier was really into gadgets and home modifications and things. Imagine that. One of the things he did was create a hyper-secure garage."
“A man who doesn't drive created a hyper-secure garage?” Dean asks.
“Remember, he's a noted conspiracy theorist. I've looked into him some more and found papers he's written and talks he's done about all of his really bizarre theories. It might not make any sense to us at all, but he really believed it was important for his garage to be incredibly secure. But that was the problem. At least for Andrew. It was like a lockdown. There was no way to get out of it once the security measures were activated. And then when the heater started leaking the carbon monoxide into it, it was over,” I explain.
“How could they say that was murder, though? Wouldn't that be an accident?”
“Apparently, the heater showed evidence of being tampered with. It was specifically rigged to release the carbon monoxide into the garage. It was actually designed to increase the flow of the poisonous gas the more certain areas of the garage were touched. So, the more Andrew tried to escape, the more gas was released, which made it more difficult for him to focus and find a way to get out,” I say.
“But that doesn't make any sense. If there was no way to get out of it, there was no way to get out of it,” Dean says.
“Exactly.
