But not Ike. He had been stumbling drunk when he was taken in, and the constable worried that his confession wouldn’t hold. Now Ike was in the corner of his cell, having a little snooze. Like a lot of drunks, he preferred the cold floor to the cot. Constable Roberts, who drank very little, never understood that.
“Ike,” he said.
The man groaned and stretched, then fell back to sleep. He scratched his groin.
The constable studied him. The worn boots. The filthy trousers—they might have been khaki once but were gray now. The thin flannel shirt under all the jackets. His neck was stained with dirt.
“You’ve been sleeping long enough. Time to get up,” the constable said.
“Why?” Ike muttered thickly.
“I need to know where they are,” the constable said. Sometimes it was best to get right back into it.
“Who?” The man turned over, bubbling in his sleep.
“The boys. The runaway reports Martha filed, back in the day. I think we all know now those boys didn’t run away.”
“Sure they did.”
“I figure you made them disappear because you were afraid of them telling on you.”
“What?” Ike opened one eye. It looked like a poached egg with red veins. “You’re drunk.”
“No. Though I think you have been.”
“I already told you what I did to those boys, all right? Not all of them. Just a few. Ain’t proud of it. You’re the only one who knows, except I think Brett might have suspected it, and he’s dead now. They’re all dead.”
“Including the boys. Including Reggie.”
“Really?” The drunk man looked upset. He sat up on the concrete floor. “Reggie. I remember that boy.” He had a little smile that made the constable sick. “You say he’s dead now?”
“You killed him. You should know.”
“I should? I didn’t kill anyone. Not that I remember, anyhow.” He scratched his scaly scalp, then looked at his dirty fingernails. “Fuck, I feel like shit. It’s funny, you start not being able to hold your liquor.”
“That’s a sign of liver failure, Ike.”
“Ain’t that what happened to Brett?”
“It’s what happens to a lot of us, when we don’t stop in time.”
“You sound like fucking AA, Constable.”
“All right.” The constable tapped on the bars with his class ring. “Come on. I’ll get you something to eat. What do you want?”
“Some fish-and-chips would be nice.”
“All right, I’ll go get some, be back.”
“You gonna let me out of here?”
“You’re under arrest, Ike.”
“What for?”
“Attempted murder. Murder. Arson.”
“Get out! All because of what I told you? Those boys were long ago. I haven’t touched anyone since. Just looked at a few. You know, through windows.”
