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GARY STAREDat Chris. “Surely if that were true, you’d have said something at the time. But there’s nothing like this in your statement to the police.”
“I had my reasons,” Chris wheezed.
“What reason could there be that warrants covering up what you believe to be murder?”
Chris studied him for a moment. “I was afraid… I’d end up like James.”
“You really thought your boss was a murderer?” Dan appeared incredulous.
Chris’s chest heaved. “Do you live in… Boston, Mr. Porter?” Dan shook his head, and Chris gave a single nod. “Because if you did… you’d know the name Gianni DiFanetti… unless you lived under a rock. I was scared… for my job, my wife….”
“But how do you know he did it?” Gary demanded. “Did youseehim push James off that roof?”
“No, but… I heard their conversation.”
Gary shook his head. “All your coworkers stated the boss was in his on-site office on the phone when they went to get him after discovering James had fallen. Nowhere near the building plot where James was found.”
Dan’s voice was gentle. “Tell us what you heard.”
Friday June 24, 2016
CHRIS WENTthrough the open space that would soon be someone’s front door and scanned the ground for his newspaper. He was certain he’d last seen it around there. A rectangular hole in the joists above his head marked where the staircase would be, a ladder propped against one of them. Some of the second floor had already been laid, cutting off his view of the roof rafters, making the interior a little darker.
His head was still reeling.They can cure it, right?He’d read so much stuff online in the last month about lung cancer, and most of it made him feel sick. And as for James’s revelations…. They’d only spoken of it once since that day. James had put together all the things he wanted to say to the boss.
Chris thought James was crazy. Demanding money from Gianni DiFanetti was a surefire way to end up in Boston Harbor wearing concrete boots. He’d begged James to reconsider, but James had been adamant.
Then he realized he could hear the murmur of voices above him, as though the speakers were up on the rafters. Chris went to the foot of the ladder and listened. He couldn’t see anyone, but he recognized the speakers. He froze.
“You’re gonna do this, you hear?”
Aw fuck, James.
Chris would know the boss’s snort anywhere. “Ya think? You can’t make me.”
He listened intently, but James’s voice dropped to a mumble, and he couldn’t catch the words. Whatever he’d said had evidently struck a nerve. The boss sounded pissed.
No, James, don’t piss him off. Youknowwho you’re dealing with, right?
James mumbled again, and then silence fell, a quiet that chilled Chris to the bone. Then the boss spoke, delivering his words in a flat tone loaded with menace.
“You know fuck all about that fucking painter freak.”
Thursday, July 12, 2018
“WHAT DIDthat mean?” Gary asked. The rasp in Chris’s voice, the whisper of the BiPAP machine; all of it sent a shiver through him.
“No idea. Made no sense to me.” Chris’s eyes were full of pain. “I… I’m not a brave man…. I didn’t want the boss… to know I was there.” He breathed deeply. “So yeah, I picked up my paper… and scurried out of there… like a frightened rat. I hurried back… to the others.”
“And said nothing,” Dan observed.
“Yeah. I tried to act normal. I read my paper… waiting for… James to join us… so I could… find out the rest… only… he never came back. Then Dex started yelling… and we packed up… all our stuff… and went back to plot three.” He swallowed.
“Where you found James on the ground, dead,” Gary concluded.
Chris nodded. “Neck broken. And no sign of the boss.” He shivered. “I’ve thought a lot… about this. I figure I was gone… maybe ten minutes. Plenty of time for… the boss to push him, climb down… and head back to his office.”
“You don’t think James would’ve cried out if that were true?”
