A Shower Would Be Nice

Chris wanted a shower. She wanted to go home, get clean, and get out the crusty clothes she was wearing.

There was no clock on the wall, but the passing of time that could never be recovered still weighed heavy on her. She had to admit to herself that where she sat, at the small table, was exactly what she expected from an interrogation room.

Her arm throbbed under the bandage. She avoided rubbing it, since that would just make it worse. Her patience was approaching its limit when the door opened. A man and a woman in cheap suits walked in. He sat at the chair opposite hers on the long side of the table, the woman sat in the chair closer to her.

“Christina Pavani, I’m Detective Maria Ruiz, and this is Detective Allan Jackson,” the woman said.

“Just ‘Chris’ please,” she said.

“Chris, I know you’ve been read your rights, with those rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us?”

“Why am I here?”

“I think you know,” Allan said.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened today.” Maria pointed at the dried blood on Chris’ clothes. “Tell us how you ended up walking down Seventh covered in blood.”

Chris pressed her arm against her chest. “I drove forty miles from the campground to the nearest urgent care center holding my arm like this,” she said, “except for at the beginning when I was letting it drip on the floor. That’s gonna be a pain to clean out of the carpet.”

“What do you know about Janine Bowen, your neighbor in the apartment across the hall from yours?”

“Other than she’s crazy? Sorry. I think she needs a good therapist, but I don’t think she’ll actually kill anyone like she says she will every other week.”

“Have you reported her for assault?” Maria asked. “Threats like that are—”

“No,” Chris cut her off, “Janine doesn’t need jail. Maybe a psych ward, but not jail. Why am I here?”

“What was the last time you saw Miss Bowen?”

“Probably last Monday when I was getting my mail. She told me a witch lives in my apartment. I don’t know if she even knew it was me.”

“You’ve had no contact with her since Monday?” Allan asked.

“That’s right. When I left Friday afternoon I heard her in her apartment, screaming at Oprah,” Chris said.

Maria said, “Oprah as in—”

“On the TV. You can hear her TV from the hallway, and she was arguing with Oprah about something.”

“Where did you go Friday?”

“Went camping. Was planning on staying all week, until I hurt myself this morning. Jumped in the truck and went to the nearest urgent care.”

“Where is the campground and the urgent care center?” Allan asked without looking up from the notes he was taking.

“Leonard Galleston State Park. The nearest emergency room or urgent care is there in Midgeville, forty miles west of the park.”

“Midgeville is less than twenty miles north of here, right?” Allan asked.

“Yeah.”

“How did you injure your arm?” Maria asked.

“It’s stupid. I was trying to throw my hatchet, you know, make it stick in the tree.” Chris shook her head. “I had a couple that almost stuck, so I threw it harder. It hit on the back and bounced back toward me. I threw my arm up in front of my face, and it gashed me. Thirty-eight stitches.”

“We seized your truck from the tire shop,” he said. “Lots of blood in the cab, but no camping equipment.”

“I left it at the campsite. I couldn’t stop the bleeding, I wasn’t going to take the time to pack everything before I went to save my life.”

“And yet you came back to town to get a tire repaired before you went back for your stuff, or before you went home to change?”

“I was on my way home to change out of this,” Chris said, motioning at her attire, “when I hit something in the road that gave me an instant flat. I limped it into the tire place and was walking to the 7-11 to get something to drink when I got picked up.”

“We’re going to have to take those clothes as well. You’re saying that all that blood is yours, well, we’ll find out. Here’s what I think happened,” he said. “Janine was yelling at you again, and you snapped. You went into her apartment, grabbed a knife from the kitchen and began slashing at her.

“But she got you with the scissors she had. You ran out, got in your truck, and drove to Midgeville to get treated. The blood trail from her apartment leads to your parking spot.”

“What?!” Chris straightened up and leaned forward. “Did she … is she alive?”

“If you weren’t there like you say, who would park in your spot?” Maria asked.

“Lots of people. I don’t use my spot, since my truck doesn’t fit. I park on the street. Is Janine…?”

Maria leaned forward toward Chris. “Critical but stable.”

Allan set down the pen he’d been writing with. “You better hope she pulls through.”

“Well, yeah, I hope she doesn’t die, but I didn’t hurt her.”

“Chris,” Maria said, “we’re looking at your phone records, checking the GPS data for the last few days, and—”

“Yes, please! Why didn’t you start with that? Call the urgent care place, call the ranger office at the campground. Shit, if you do call the rangers let ’em know I’ll be back for my stuff in spot C-9.” Chris groaned and leaned on the table.

Maria leaned closer. “Listen, it’ll take a few days but we’re going to find out everywhere you’ve been. If you want to change your story, now’s the time.”

“There’s nothing to change. I just want to go home, take a shower, put on some non-crusty clothes, go pick up my gear and pretend this weekend never happened.” She turned her head to look directly at Maria while keeping it laying on the table. “I should probably get Janine a get-well card or something, at least, right?”

“I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t. I don’t hate her either. She just needs … help.” Chris groaned again.

A rap on the door brought Allan to his feet. He stepped out and closed the door behind himself.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re telling me the truth, but Detective Jackson thinks you’re our prime suspect. We know you two have had beef in the past, and the blood trail from her apartment leads to your parking space.”

“Which my truck doesn’t fit in, like I said.”

“For him, though, that’s enough. I’m sure you can see how that—” she was cut short by Allan coming back into the room. He handed her a paper, and she nodded.

“Do you know anyone that would want to hurt Janine?” she asked. “Any enemies?”

“Not really. We’re at the end of the hall, and there’s a utility room next to her apartment and a storage unit next to mine. I think I’m the only one that hears her when she’s going off.”

Maria asked, “What about visitors, did she have many?”

“Her sister comes about once a month, and a guy I think might be a caseworker every two weeks. Every time he leaves though, she gets more riled up and talking about killing.”

“Did they get photos of you when you came in?” Allan asked.

“No.”

“We need to do that. It’s so that we have a record.” He prompted her to stand and took photos from every angle. “I’ll need to see the wound, too.”

Chris nodded and peeled the thick bandage back. It had begun to stick some and was soaked halfway through. Allan sucked air through his teeth and Maria said, “Yeesh!”

Chris looked down at the long line of stitches. “I was afraid to look,” she said. “It’s longer than I thought.” She covered it back up after he took several shots of it.

Allan spoke up. “Thanks for your time, Chris. Our desk sergeant talked to the ranger, and they were worried that someone had snatched you from your site. You left your fire pit going and blood everywhere.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about the fire.”

“He saw the bloody hatchet but didn’t touch it, in case he needed to call state police to come collect evidence.”

Chris groaned again. “Does this mean I can go?”

“Yeah, you can go, Chris,” Maria said.

“We’re, uh, still going to need those clothes,” Allan said. “I’ll have one of the female officers get you some sweats and escort you to the showers.”

“Fine. They’re junky old camping clothes anyway. A shower would be nice, though.” Chris stood. “What about my truck?”

“After you get changed, I’ll make sure you get your property tag so you can get your truck out of impound at no cost,” Allan said. “Our guys already have everything they need from it.”

Maria handed Chris her business card. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to leave the state. If you think of anything that might help us, call.”

The detectives left as a uniformed officer came to escort Chris to the showers. It wasn’t her shower at home, but it would do.