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The cop retreated and stood with his back to one wall, hands clasped at crotch level. Stribbe rocked gently in his chair, lipsmoving but no sound coming from them. I wondered if he was praying.
“Showtime,” Monck said.
“You’ll know how to play him.”
A quick thumbs-up, then Monck withdrew, seconds later appeared in the adjacent room. Dropping into the chair opposite Stribbe, he placed his phone on the table and began.
“This interview is being recorded. Do you have any objection, Mr. Stribbe?”
“What do you think?” Belligerent as hell.
“Sir?”
The drooping head wagged slowly.
Stribbe’s hair, dark and coarse, was combed straight back from his face. A scraggly mustache and beard struggled for recognition on his chin and cheeks. He wore no glasses. Had no visible birthmarks, scars, or tattoos. He wasn’t tall or short, bulky or slight.
Was this the jackass that attacked me last night?
“Present for this interview are Detective Delroy Monck and Officer Simon Toole. Interviewee is Uri Stribbe. Questioning concerns the murders of Bobby Galloway, Ryder Palke, Quentin Bonner, and Tiersa Musgrove. And any and all connected homicides, assaults, crimes, and events.”
As Monck worked through the formalities, Stribbe alternated between undulating gently and licking his lips, his body tense as a house cat stalking a mouse.
“Officer Toole, have you read Mr. Stribbe his rights?”
“I have.”
“Mr. Stribbe, do you understand your rights in regard to these matters?”
Stribbe glanced up. He had his mother’s eyes, the irises such a pale gray they appeared almost transparent. He said nothing.
“Please answer, sir.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Do you understand your rights?”
“I’m not stupid.” Snarled. “Why am I here? Why?”
“Where were you on April 16, 2017?” The day Bobby Galloway disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
“Where were you on the night of August 5, 2020?” Ryder Palke.
“I don’t know.”
“February 25, 2022.” Quentin Bonner.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you acquainted with a woman named Tiersa Musgrove?”
“I don’t know.” Squint-glaring and blinking as though blinded by bright lights.
“You don’t know? Or you don’t know her?”
“I don’t know. Don’t know.”
