as she was scared to death. Somehow I had to relieve her fear enough so we could see what was behind it.
'Do you mind telling us how you got the MicroBridge job? I asked.
'He called, she said.
'Who did?
'The owner. A guy named Kurobashi. He called Friday night after we were closed and left a message on the machine. Wanted us to do a job on Sunday. Offered to pay double.
'Double?
'You heard me, mister. That's what I said. She seemed to have summoned a fresh supply of courage from somewhere deep within her. She looked me squarely in the face. 'Dean didn't kill nobody, she announced flatly.
With that, she turned her back on us and walked away, moving to a battered desk across the room. She seated herself behind it.
'Might just as well come on in, she said wearily. 'No sense standin' around in the doorway.
'What do you mean, ‘Dean didn't kill nobody'?
'That guy was already dead when Dean found him. He didn't do it. You've got no right to chase after him.
'We just want to talk to your husband, I said quietly. 'To ask him some questions.
'Sure you do, she said, sounding unconvinced. She plucked a cigarette from an open pack of Marlboros on the desk, lit it, and dropped the match into a heaping, stale-smelling ashtray. She took a long drag on the cigarette, and her face hardened.
'Don't you go fuckin' with me, mister. I'm nobody's dummy. It's just like he said would happen, that you'd come here lookin' for a way to pin it on him.
'You're saying that your husband didn't kill him, but that he saw the dead man?
'That's right.
Big Al had extracted his notebook from his jacket pocket and was starting to jot down the information. 'What's your name please? he asked.
She jerked her eyes in his direction. 'Chrissey, she answered. 'Chrissey Morrison. There was a note of defiance in the way she said her name.
'Did your husband say what time it was when he found the body? I asked, trying to keep from saying anything that might sound accusatory.
'No.
'When did he tell you this-after he got home?
She nodded.
'What time was that?
Chrissey Morrison shrugged. 'Midnight, one o'clock. I don't know for sure. I was asleep.
'He told you, but he didn't report it to the police? Why not?
Tears sprang to Chrissey's eyes. 'He was scared, that's why.
'Scared of the dead man? I asked.
She turned and looked at me. The defiance drained away, leaving her haggard and hollow-eyed. 'Of you, she answered.
'Of me? Or you mean of cops?
She nodded. 'Of cops. Of all cops. Dean already done some time. He was scared shitless that if he reported it…
'What was he in for?
Regaining control, she blew a languid plume of smoke into the air. 'Drugs, she answered casually.
And suddenly I knew where I had seen that worn, dispirited look before, in the wives and girlfriends who follow their menfolk to prison and who live as outcasts in the small towns outside the prison walls, their own lives on hold until the husbands are released.
Chrissey Morrison was a survivor, but there was no dignity in it, no victory. Dean was out now, and they were trying to go on, but his past still cast a shadow over everything they did. I didn't know Dean Morrison, but I felt sorry for his wife.
'Tell us exactly what Dean told you, I urged.
'He was there late afternoon and evening. Musta started about five o'clock or thereabouts. He said about nine or so he finished and come back to the office after runnin' the shredder and found him like that, on the floor with a big old ashtray upside his head. She paused. 'From the way he was layin', Dean knowed right away he was dead.
'What happened then?
'Dean said he started to call the cops, but changed his mind and came home. He didn't want to get involved, figured they'd find a way to blame him for it. When I told him he should report it, he got mad as hell. He jumped in the truck and took off. I ain't seen him since.
'Do you have any idea where he is? We just want to talk to him, to ask him some questions.
'No. He hasn't called or nothin'. I thought maybe he'd be back today, bein's it's our anniversary and all, but he ain't. Maybe he won't never come back.
'We could put out a description of the truck, I offered. 'We could probably find him that way.
She cringed visibly at the prospect. 'Don't do that. Please don't do that. He'd think you were arrestin' him and I don't know what would happen. He didn't do nothin'. Just let him come home on his own.
'Did he tell you anything else about MicroBridge? Did he see anyone there? Talk to anyone?
'He said a woman come in while he was there, a young gal. He said he thought she was the dead guy's daughter. Before he was dead. Dean said they started out talkin' real nice like and ended up fightin' somethin' terrible.
'Did he tell you what they were fighting about?
'No. He said later on he thought he heard a car drive away while he was out in the truck. He figured that was her leavin'. When he come back to the office to drop off the bill and the bags, that's when he found the body.
'After the daughter left? Big Al asked.
Chrissey nodded. My mind caught hold of the word bags. I didn't remember seeing any.
'What bags? I asked.
'The bags of confetti. Our shredder makes confetti out of all them records and files and floppy disks that people want to get rid of. We always bring the bag back to the owner so he can be sure it's properly disposed of. That way there's never no question about what happens to it.
'How big was this bag? Big Al asked.
The woman looked at him. 'Not bag, she corrected. 'Bags. Musta been several. Dean always takes along a big roll of them fifty-gallon trash bags. I don't know how full they was, or how many. Depends on how much got shredded.
'You're sure he said ‘bags' plural? I asked.
'That's right. Said they was too heavy to carry, so he dragged 'em back in from the truck on a cart, a little handcart. When he finished, he called to the guy, but there was no answer. He said he looked around the rest of the buildin' but couldn't find nobody else, so he come back to leave the cart and the bill there in the office. That's when he found the body.
'What did he do then?
'Ran, I guess. Took off. He was so scared he left the cart right there where it was, and the bill too. Ran back to the truck and drove away. He went to a tavern a few blocks away and sat there and had himself a couple beers to calm himself down. Then he got to thinkin' that maybe you cops would come lookin' for him, so he went back, thought he'd get the bill and the cart, but the door to the dock was closed and locked. He couldn't get back inside.
I glanced at Big Al. Bernard Rennermann had said the door to the loading dock was open. Not only that, Big Al and I had been all over the MicroBridge plant the morning Tadeo Kurobashi's body was found, and neither one of us had seen a trace of a cart with trash bags full of shredded confetti. Or an ashtray either.
'Tell us about the confetti. What's it like?
'Like confetti. Everybody's seen confetti.
