“What he’s trying to explain is that people dress up all the time around here and half the time, the natives walk right by them without blinking,” Burnett explained, offering him a smile.
“Yeah, but our crazy costumed people don’t usually kill,” Mason said. “Anyway, we have the witness—David Gray—in an interrogation room. He’s fine; seems happier there than out on the street.”
“I brought him a sandwich and some coffee. Poor dude lost his third job today—claims the manager was jealous. Anyway, got him thrown out of his apartment, so he has nowhere to go anyway,” Burnett told him.
Quinn thanked them both.
The station was a bevy of activity, officers on phones, running around with papers, their latest memos on tips and whatever else.
Many of them noted Quinn and nodded acknowledgments.
“I’m heading back to the cemetery,” Mason said. “Burnett will help you—and stay with you. I’m assuming you’ll want to see where the bodies were found?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “Thank you.”
Mason nodded and left them. Burnett turned to Quinn. “This way,” she said.
A minute later he was across a table from David Gray. The man had long brown hair that was tousled and wild—as wild as the look in his hazel eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that advertised “The Grateful Dead,” and a pair of grass-stained jeans. His fingers twitched as they curled around a Styrofoam cup. He looked at Quinn with hope.
“Maybe now someone will believe me,” he said. “I didn’t do anything. I swear to you, I would never kill anyone. In all honesty—not to speak ill of the dead—but I was sure those jerks meant to kill me. They were hunting me—hunting me down in the cemetery. They—they wanted to move tombstones around, play with the place. Vandalize it, I guess. But, look at me! I’m not exactly Hulk Hogan. I was running. Three of them! And then….”
He paused. A fierce shudder went through his body.
“I tripped. I tripped over a corpse. And then I saw—it!”
“It,” Quinn said.
The man shook his head. “You don’t believe me either. But, if you don’t believe me….”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I need you to describe what you saw,” Quinn said. “David, I’ve got an open mind. Please, talk to me. Even if you feel you’ve said everything a dozen times already. Please.”
Davy studied Quinn as if he were afraid that he was being humored. His eyes were bloodshot and his tousled appearance suggested he’d been on a binge, but he was certainly sober as he spoke then. “No one believes…they’re going to arrest me for what happened.”
“I don’t see a speck of blood on you,” Quinn told him.
That seemed to make David Gray brighten at last. “No, no…there’s no blood on me. And there would be, wouldn’t there? God, I’m lucky, I tripped over a corpse…one of the guys, but there’s no blood on me. Maybe there is a God!”
Quinn shrugged. “I believe there is. But, whether God helped you avoid the blood or not, I don’t know. Try to tell me what happened, and what you saw, David.”
“Okay. Okay. Call me Davy. I don’t even remember to answer to David.”
“Davy, fine, thanks—and please. I’m listening.”
And so David Gray began his story—words spilling out of him. He’d been down and out—well, he was still down and out—but he wasn’t a killer! He went step by step in detail for Quinn. He described what he saw.
“A walking corpse. A nun…dead. Rotten. As if she’d been dead and buried for years and then dug up and animated and…I hid. I didn’t breathe. And she went by…and I ran and ran and then…then I tripped trying to get out—I tripped over the dead man.
He winced when he was done. “Did she—it—eat anyone’s brains?” Davy asked.
“Not that I know of,” Quinn assured him.
“So what happened? What do you think happened?” Davy asked desperately when he was done.
“I don’t know yet. But, I don’t believe you did it,” Quinn assured him.
Davy offered him a wry and crooked smile. “So, a dead nun did kill them?”
“The investigation is just getting underway,” Quinn said.
Davy suddenly stood, his face going pale. “You—you can’t tell them I’m innocent. Not tonight. Please, not tonight. I have nowhere to go. I…please. I need to stay here.”
“They’ll keep you here,” Quinn promised him. He handed him a business card that had his cell number and Danni’s cell, too. “If there’s any problem, they’ll let you use a phone. Call me.”
Davy looked at him and swallowed hard and then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
Quinn left him to discover that Office Sandy Bracken had been, naturally, watching the interview along with the captain and lieutenant and several other officers.
“Insane—hey, the Keys can do it to some people,” one officer said.