“It’s the only day of the week I get off work early. I do the five-to-one shift at Manor House Nursing Home on Friday. Afterward I went to Cooley’s for lunch and that’s where I saw Braggett . . . I mean, Brad . . . we had a few drinks, then went back to his place.”
“Did you plan on meeting him there, or was it just chance?”
“Half and half, really. I’d seen him earlier in the week, and he’d mentioned it to me. Asked me if I still got off early on Friday and told me that he was planning on being at Cooley’s, and maybe we could have a few drinks, celebrate the weekend.”
“Was that usual for the two of you. Making plans to meet?”
She blew a plume of blue smoke from her nostrils and rounded the ash of her cigarette against the edge of a glass ashtray on the coffee table. “No, not really. We didn’t usually make plans. We’d just run into each other. It’s a small town, you know.”
“Anything else unusual about that day, about Brad?”
“He was a little strange, I’ll admit it. Like, he insisted on paying for my lunch and buying me beers. He was kind of all over me. I mean, that’s happened a lot in the past, but not usually in the middle of the day. I thought it was weird, but I also kind of liked it. I thought maybe he’d gotten lonely since his marriage broke up and decided he wanted a girlfriend.”
I finished my cigarette, put it out in the ashtray. “Polly, Brad Daggett was positively ID’d as being in Boston on Friday night around six at night. Are you sure you want to stick to your story?”
“I don’t understand. I was with him at his place.”
I paused, took a sip of coffee to try to get the taste of menthol out of my mouth. “I want to make this very clear, Polly. Brad is in big trouble. He’s the prime suspect in two murders. If you’re lying about Brad being with you that means you are willfully obstructing justice, and you will do prison time. No doubt about it.”
She clamped a hand around her mouth. Her eyes looked shocked but also confused. “Did Brad kill someone?”
“Were you with him on Friday night?”
“I was. I was with him, but I don’t know. I can’t remember much. I think I might have passed out.” Her voice had turned high-pitched. Jack the cocker spaniel lifted his head in concern but stayed in his bed.
“Just tell me exactly what you remember. If you tell me the truth you’re not going to get into trouble, okay?”
“We were pretty drunk when we left the bar, doing shots and stuff like that. Back at his place, we kept drinking—”
“What time was this?”
“I don’t know exactly. Three maybe? I got to Cooley’s around one, and we were there a couple hours. I don’t know the exact—”
“That’s okay. Around three is good enough. So you were both drinking? What were you drinking?”
“Jaeger shots, mostly, then we started to fool around. We were pretty wrecked. Brad, he couldn’t get it up. I remember that much. He said something like, let’s sleep it off and try again, and then we went to sleep.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“It was late. I don’t know. Around ten or something. I remember because I looked at the clock and didn’t know if it was ten in the morning or ten at night.”
“And Brad was there in bed with you?”
“No, but he was there. Out in the living room watching TV. He drove me back to my car at Cooley’s, and I went home. I felt like shit.”
“Polly, thank you. That is all very helpful. And you haven’t heard from him or seen him since then?”
“God, no. Did he really do it? Did he kill them both?” Her hand was up around her face again, and her robe had gaped open. She had put her cigarette down on the ashtray without putting it out, and it smoldered away.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Did he ever talk with you about either of the Seversons?”
“No, never, but him and the man were friends. They used to drink at Cooley’s together. I met him once.”
“They drank together?”
“At least once. I remember, he introduced me. He was the guy building that big house out on the cliff, right? They kind of seemed like friends.”
“And Miranda Severson? The wife? Did you ever see her at Cooley’s?”