Free Bury This by Andrea Portes Page B

green-gilled yellow. Sitting there, facing away, a fat-shirt with a bald head, one hair over the bald circle forehead wrong ways. His parka, forest green, draped over his lap. Nervous.
    â€œHi there.”
    â€œHello. Hello, Officer.”
    â€œNice day.”
    â€œYes. Yes it is. Very nice day. No snow yet.”
    â€œYup. That blizzard’s coming in though, ought to be here tonight.” Detective cozy-talk.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYeah. They said three feet in Milwaukee, so . . . ”
    Better just sit down. Sit down, act casual, pretend to look through paperwork. Official.
    â€œDetective. I have something to report.”
    Keep your eyes on the desk, act unmoved, calm. Professional.
    â€œSome information.”
    â€œM-hm. M-hm. Go ahead.”
    â€œWell, it’s just, uh. I saw that film. That one in town. On the girl. You know, the students did that film. And, um. I just thought, maybe . . . well, maybe there was something you should know.”
    Oh my Lord. Is this it? Is this the guy? Holy shit. Where’s my gun?
    â€œOh, okay. Well, shoot.”
    Get out the pen and paper. Don’t let him see. Keep him calm. Maybe it is him. A confession! Oh, fuck, where is my goddamn gun?
    â€œDid I get your name? Sorry, I just, you know, I was ice fishing. Trying to catch some perch, bring home to the wife. And I, uh, guess I’m, well . . . still out there on the ice. Shame on me. What was, what was your name again?”
    â€œEric. Eric Walter. Um. I live down on Cheney. Down by the diner, off of Route 31.”
    â€œOh, okay. CJ’s, right. Is that a good diner? I drive by there all the time, always wanted to stop.”
    â€œYeah, it’s good. Real good. They got, uh, pierogis. Real good pierogis. The owner’s wife’s Russian, so . . . ”
    â€œOh, that sounds good. My wife made some pierogis a couple months back.”
    Motioning to the rookie cop. Stay where you are. Stay put. Act casual. Don’t leave. Don’t make a fuss.
    â€œIt’s just that. That girl. The Krause girl?”
    â€œM-hm?”
    â€œWell . . . I met her.”
    â€œM-hm.”
    Stay where you are, act normal. Nothing special.
    â€œI met her a few days before she disappeared . . . before, you know . . . ”
    â€œM-hm.”
    â€œAnd I woulda come in. Woulda said something but . . . I tell you what, I was so damned scared somehow it’d get turned around and . . . all of a sudden I’d be the one, I’d be like a suspect . . . so . . . I just. You know, I just stayed put.”
    â€œMm.”
    The green-muck light overhead. Rookie cop on the seat behind, metal seat, trying not to listen, trying to stay still.
    â€œAnd well, I’m just. Well, I’m ashamed of myself. That I didn’t come forward. Ashamed that. Maybe I coulda helped.”
    â€œM-hm.”
    â€œThat poor girl. And her family and all. Seem like real nice people.”
    The buzz of the light overhead.
    â€œAnd how did you come to meet her exactly?”
    Careful now. Don’t seem too interested. Don’t scare him off.
    â€œWell, it was. I mean, it was . . . it was late. It was a Friday night, late, and I was coming home from work. I got a store, up on Main. Walter’s Tackle and Bait. That’s my store. Maybe you been there?”
    â€œI have been there! Sure have. Come to think of it, I think I got some hooks there last month. I always lose my hooks, you know. Every season the wife puts ’em away. Trying to keep things neat, I guess. And then I just lose them. Gotta buy ’em all over again. Wait a minute—are you in cahoots with my wife?”
    A sly smile from rookie cop, from behind. A little laugh. Keep things light. Keep things easy here. Reel him in. Don’t let him get away. Reel him in like that perch you missed out on.
    â€œOh, no sir. We run an honest business. Might not run too long though, with that Walmart and all . . . ”
    â€œOh,