Break and Enter Read Online Free Page A

Mr. Robinson?’
    “Answer: ‘Both the knives are in the water over by the Art Museum. I practically ruined the blades. It was pretty fucking hard, too. Took about five minutes. I got this flap open and stuck myself in—‘
    “Question: ‘Can you be specific, Mr. Robinson?’
    “Answer: ‘You fucking know what the fuck I mean. I put my cock in there against her heart ‘cause it’s warm and wet just like it’s supposed to be, you know, and there’s a lot of fucking ways to get fucked. Then she was pretty dead and a car commercial came on. “Make your best deal!” Balloons, small-town America, and you know—family values, and there I am fucking a corpse. Amazing society we live in. Amazing culture. Got a cigarette?’
    “Question: ‘Here. Go on.’
    “Answer: ‘Well, it was the usual shit, what do you do with the body. Typical cliché situation. Then I remembered that the television is full of crystals, all those solid-state components. I thought about sending her on to Johnny Carson. I was going to make her walk on to the show and sit down and talk with my man, Star Search Ed McMahon. But she was pretty bloody. I had the gasoline in the car and got that and came back in the building and poured it around with absolute care and took the phone off the hook. I turned Johnny up and then lit it—‘
    “Question: ‘Were the lights on or off?’
    “Answer: ‘This was smart. I was smart. I kept them on, so you couldn’t see the fire for a while. All the lights in the place. I got in my car and put on the Hendrix tape. That man was before his time, he knew about the crystals first. That’s why he died, he came too soon before his time.’ ”
    Peter made notes on his pad as the detective finished. The confession showed that Robinson had no legal claim to the insanity defense. Peter could argue that anyone cogent enough to: (1) make sure the phone was busy; (2) attempt to burn the evidence; and (3) throw away the murder weapon was plenty sane enough to understand the gravity of his acts and to be convicted of first-degree murder. The attempt at concealment indicated knowledge of wrongdoing before, during, and after the murder—which fulfilled the M’Naghten Rule test that the Commonwealth used to decide sanity.
    “I don’t have any more questions.” He looked up. “Thank you, Detective Nelson.”
    Robinson now stared into space, like a man hypnotized by the sound of his own heartbeat. Perhaps he was remembering his own verbiage, perhaps the confession had penetrated his brightly sick confidence, and he finally understood how ludicrous was his defense. Even Morgan, who had long waited for this moment, seemed stunned. But he forced himself up and, like a small, pesky mutt snapping at a huge, immovable bulldog, began to pepper the detective with questions, trying to get him to admit that the defendant was obviously lying. Since Robinson had been arrested the next day, wasn’t it plausible that he had driven by the burned apartment and seen what had happened? And heard about it on the news? Wasn’t it true that the police often received false confessions? Did it occur to the detective that Robinson might be familiar with some of the details of the apartment because he had been there so many times? Such as the location of the lamp and of the television set? Wasn’t it true that the arresting officers had babbled details about the crime scene? Hadn’t Nelson really told Robinson how the crime had been committed first and then “gotten” the confession? Wasn’t it obvious that Robinson was highly impressionable and intelligent and, with some slight coaching, could sing out just about any version of events the detectives wanted? Didn’t the rambling, associative character of Robinson’s sentences demonstrate someone who was not in control of his faculties? Yes or no, sir? Did the detectives really know if the defendant was under the influence of drugs? Did they have a blood test to prove that he wasn’t?