Free The Answer Man by Roy Johansen Page B

what you say. Sit there and tell me you’re the pope, and the machine will believe it if you do. You’ve never done a thing wrong in your life. Anything you got, you earned. Believe it.
Know it.
”
    Sabini believed. And bit by bit, so did the polygraph.
    They usually took a short break around midnight, and Sabini always talked about his son. The kid’s batting average. The songs he could play on his trumpet. The nonstop calls from his little girlfriends. It occurred to Ken that he should have been bored by the stories, but Sabini’s enthusiasm touched him.
    Ken’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap at his door. He threw down the graphs, stood, and opened it. The first thing he saw was a silver badge.
    “Ken Parker?”
    “Yes?”
    “I’m Lieutenant Thomas Gant. Atlanta P.D. Can we talk?”
    Ken felt his own sphincter tighten.
    “Sure. Come in.”
    Gant stepped into the office.
    What the hell could he want? Had he found out about Sabini’s training sessions?
    “How can I help you?” Ken said.
    Gant handed him a photograph. “How do you know this guy?”
    Ken looked at the photo. “I gave him a test last week. His name is Carlos Valez.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    “Saturday night. He didn’t like how his test came out, so he and a buddy came by and worked me over pretty good.”
    “Is that where you got those bruises?”
    Ken felt his cheek, which was still a pale shade ofmagenta. “Yeah. Why are you asking me this? I’m really not interested in pressing charges.”
    “I’m glad to hear it, because he’s dead.”
    Ken stared blankly at Gant. He tried to understand what he had just heard. Carlos Valez. Dead. “How?” he asked.
    “Murdered at your apartment complex. Early this morning. I’m surprised you didn’t see us there.”
    “I saw the police cars. But there’s a couple in the complex who fight a lot. I figured the lady beat up her husband again.”
    Gant smiled. “We have four witnesses who saw your Saturday-night fight from their apartment windows. Two of them identified Carlos Valez from his picture. Apparently your parking lot is pretty well lit.”
    “People were
watching
? Nice of them to give me a hand.”
    “What happened?”
    “I told you. He disagreed with his test results.” Ken gave his full account of the exam, the outcome, and the confrontation that followed. The words tumbled out, occasionally sticking in his dry mouth. Was this really happening?
    “So you saw him only two times,” Gant said. “Once when you gave him the exam, once when he roughed you up.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Why didn’t you report him to the police?”
    “I didn’t think it was worth it. The guy lost his job because of me. He was upset. I just wanted to forget the whole thing.”
    Gant stared at him for what seemed like an hour. “Is there any reason why he would have been at your complex last night?”
    “None that I know of.”
    “Look, we’re pretty sure he was killed near the stairwell just down the hall from your apartment. We found traces of blood, his type, on the walkway. We figure he was stabbed, pushed over the railing to the parking lot two stories below, then dragged to the Dumpster.”
    Christ, Ken thought. The cop suspected him of murder.
    “The guy had it in for you,” Gant said. “Let’s just say he came back to your building and attacked you again. You guys rumbled a little bit, maybe you picked up a few extra bruises, and in the end, he gets stabbed. He’s dead. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were scared. You panicked. You pushed him over the railing and stuffed him in the Dumpster.”
    “That didn’t happen.”
    “If it did, it would be best if you told me now. It would be self-defense. Those witnesses saw Valez pound you into the sidewalk less than a week before. You could still come out of this all right.”
    “I didn’t have anything to do with it. I didn’t even know he was dead until you just told me.”
    Gant stared at him