Page 52 of Haven't Killed in Years

“I’m Detective Ellison.” She held up her badge for him to see. “And this is my partner, Detective Hanson.”

“How can I help you?” Dominic was fidgeting too much already.

“May we come in?” Ellison asked.

Dominic shot me a look as if I had sent out some sort of smoke signal that summoned these detectives to his door five minutes after I’d begged him not to tell anyone. I did the subtlest of shrugs to communicate that I had no idea what was going on.

I shadowed behind the two detectives into the apartment as if I belonged.

“And who are you?” Detective Hanson finally spoke.

“A friend.” I hoped I could avoid giving my name.

“She can stay,” Dominic said, tugging at his hair. “If that’s okay.”

Detective Ellison nodded and Hanson took his suspicious eyes off me.

“Do you want to sit?” Dominic asked them. “Or can I get you a drink? I’m sorry, what is customary here? I’ve never had cops in my home before.”

“We have a few questions,” Ellison said, almost smirking. Dominic’s panicky consideration was adorable, if not insane. Ellison planted her feet and Hanson joined her—this is where the talking would take place.

“Right,” said Dominic.

I tried to stay behind the detectives so that I could signal to him if he was blowing it, but Ellison noticed I was lurking behind her and rotated her upper body to stare at me until I acquiesced and sauntered over next to Dominic.

“Mr. Joyce, we’re here in regard to Abel Haggerty. Prison logs show that you visit him quite frequently.”

“Yeah, I’m writing a book about him.”

“That’s great. I look forward to reading it someday.” She reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a small notebook, letting the silence build. She flipped it open as if she needed to check her notes. “Are you aware that Reanne Haggerty is missing—presumed dead?”

He was. I’d just told him. I was the reason he knew and was going to have to pretend he didn’t.

“Huh?” he said, buying time to craft the appropriate reaction.

“She’s missing, and we found quite a bit of blood at her home,” Ellison said, watching him, then me.

Oh shit, I forgot I was there and had to react too. I crinkled my forehead and looked to Dominic for answers as if I was some dumb girlfriend in way over her head.

“She was murdered?” Dominic asked, stalling with another question. “Was it the same person who killed James Calhoun?”

Ellison glanced up from her unnecessary prop notebook. “We’re looking into it.”

“And what about the other man? Oswald Shields. Is it connected?” Dominic’s voice regulated as he gained some control in the conversation. He was doing much better than I’d anticipated.

“We aren’t at liberty to share those details,” said Ellison.

“Sorry, I got too excited. You know, with the book and all. Anyway, how can I help you?”

“Have you had any interactions with Reanne Haggerty?”

“No. I was thinking of adding her house to the tour—I run the only Abel Haggerty–themed tour, by the way—but she lives in Saugus now and it’s really out of the way. Plus I’ve found that when you give customers the hope that they might see someone and then they don’t, they leave bad reviews.”

“What about Abel?” Hanson asked, inserting himself into the conversation. “Has he said anything suspicious?”

Dominic thought for a second. “Well, he says a lot of suspicious things. He’s a serial killer, after all, but he never said anything bad about Reanne, if that’s what you mean. He’s an old man with a lot of mental problems. If you think he’s orchestrating some murder plot from his cell, I doubt it. He doesn’t have much contact with the outside world, except me.”

“And why are you so special to him?” Ellison asked.