Free Topping From Below by Laura Reese Page B

hours. M. was home alone during that time, he claimed, with no alibi.
    I’m suddenly impatient with him and his indifference. I despise this man more than I fear him. “Why did you invite me to dinner?” I ask him. “If you knew who I was, why didn’t you say so?”
    “You’re the one who began this charade. I was just playing along.” He adds salad dressing and mixes the salad. After a few moments, he says, “I did it for my amusement, I suppose. The same reason I started with Franny”—he looks over at me and gives an apologetic shrug—“for amusement.”
    When he mentions her name, I cringe. He speaks of her as if she was insignificant. He sees the look on my face.
    “Would you rather I lied?” he asks. “Do you want me to tell you she meant more to me than she really did?”
    I say nothing.
    He sighs patiently. “It’s been almost a year since she died. Do you expect me to mourn her still? Life does go on.”
    “If you killed her,” I say, “I’ll find out.”
    “How?” he asks. “Did you think you could simply come over here and trip me up? Do you actually think you’re a match for me?” He shakes his head. “I have nothing to fear from you.”
    I don’t say anything, so he puts down the salad tongs and continues.
    “Your sister’s death was tragic, but I’m not responsible. I had nothing to do with it.”
    “I’m not convinced of that.”
    He is silent. The steam from the asparagus hisses beneath a slit in the lid. He reaches over and turns the heat down.
    “Let me tell you what I think,” he says finally. “You want someone to blame. You want to avenge Franny. That’s understandable—that’s human nature. But I think you want something else, something only I can give you: answers. That’s why you’re really here. I knew more about your sister in the five months we were together than you knew about her in a lifetime. You treated her like a casual acquaintance. You didn’t know her at all, and now you feel guilty, you feel remorse. You’re here to make amends.”
    “That’s not true,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Don’t I? Then tell me—why are you here?”
    For a moment, I’m confused. Then I shake my head in disgust. “You’re twisting things around,” I say. “I have nothing to feel guilty about. I’m not the one who mistreated her. I’m not the one who turned ‘Franny’s File’ into a diary that reads as if it came out of a book on sadism.” I look down at my hands and see that I’m clenching them. I relax. “But you’re right—I am here for answers. I came here to fill in the blanks, to learn more about you, to find out if you killed Franny.”
    M. is silent for a minute, then he says, “You don’t know what you’re getting involved in.” “I’ll take my chances.”
    He gives me a steady look, his eyes level and unblinking. “All right,” he says. “We’ll play your game if that’s what you want. But first let me do you a favor and issue another warning: you’re not going to like the answers I’ll give you. You’d be better off to go home, resume your life, forget all about me.”
    I say nothing.
    He waits, giving me time to change my mind. I choose to ignore his warning.
    “Very well,” he says finally. “I didn’t kill Franny, but I can fill in the blanks for you. I can reveal your sister.” He hesitates, then says, “You want information, you want to know what really happened between Franny and me—I’ll tell you. But your curiosity is going to cost you.”
    I look at him with distrust and this makes him smile.
    “What do you mean?” I ask. “Cost me what?”
    “Time,” he says. “A portion of your life.”
    His reply mystifies me.
    “You want information about Franny—I’ll give it to you. But don’t think you’ll get all the answers during dinner. This will take time. Months, perhaps. And you may not get any answers tonight. Think of our … what shall we call it? An alliance? Think