Bloodsworth by Tim Junkin Page A

curious, though, why they were all taken off the table so quickly and then never mentioned by the detectives. What kind of game were they playing?
    Capel began asking him questions. He was courteous, though firm. He asked Kirk where he was on the day of the murder.
    â€œI ain’t sure, exactly,” Kirk said. “I was probably at home on South Randolph Road, because I think that was my day off.” He thought he’d hung around in the morning that day, he told Capel, then gone over to Wayne Palmer’s house for the afternoon. Kirk said there were others in the house that day who might remember if he was at home.
    Capel flipped a picture of Dawn Hamilton down on the table and asked Kirk if he knew her, and Kirk told him no. Capel asked him if he’d ever met her, and Kirk said absolutely not. He asked Kirk whether he’d been by a pond or seen two boys fishing that day, and Kirk answered, “No sir.” He asked if he knew anything about the murder, and Kirk told him only what he’d seen on television and read in the paper.
    Standing the entire time at “parade’s rest” and staring him down was Detective Ramsey. Ramsey wasn’t as tall as Capel but seemed more intense. He wore a short-sleeve white shirt decorated with a nondescript tie and a plastic pocket protector containing several pens. His graying hair was gummed back against his head. His eyes bore into Kirk’s, and Kirk recalled later that he had never felt so small as he did in that room. Ramsey asked Kirk what his shoe size was, and Kirk answered size 10½. Ramsey then ordered him to hold up his shoe for them to see. Kirk’s brow was slick with sweat. He lifted his shoe—the one without the pot. Ramsey told him to lift it higher so they could see what the underside of the sole looked like. He did. The sole was not in a herringbone pattern. Ramsey then snapped several pictures of Kirk. Capel promised Kirk he’d return the photographs to him once he was cleared. Capel asked Kirk where he’d be staying and Kirk told him. He told Kirk there was nothing to worry about but asked him not to leave town until this was resolved.
    Kirk thought that was the end of it, that it would be over. His picture, he figured, would clear him. But still, the interview hadupset him. Ramsey had made him feel awful. And to think they really thought he might be involved in the murder of a little girl. It made him sick. And what was with the panties and the rock? Driving through town, he couldn’t wait to get out of Capel’s car. At that instant, he mostly wanted to get stoned again. He asked Capel to drop him off back on Henry Street. Outside, it was still stifling hot.
    When Kirk got to Rose Carson’s, she was washing dishes. She was spitting mad. She cursed at him because the cops had found a marijuana roach in one of her ashtrays. Still, she let him in. Rose’s sister, Thelma Stultz, was there. Thelma had also known Kirk for a number of years. Both women could see that Kirk was upset, agitated. They’d heard about the murder from the officers who’d searched Rose’s house, but they were curious and wanted to hear from Kirk what happened at the station. They peppered him with questions. Kirk began rolling a joint on the kitchen counter. He was still sweating. His hands were unsteady.
    â€œDo you know what they wanted?” he said. “I can’t believe this. Jesus. I can’t believe it.”
    â€œNo,” Rose answered, “What?”
    â€œI’m a suspect in the rape of a little girl. Freakin’ crazy.” He licked two of the rolling papers so they would stick together. “And do you know which one?” he went on.
    Rose again answered, “No.”
    â€œThe one that’s dead. That got murdered up in Essex. That’s the one.” His body gave up a shiver. “I’m really freakin’ out. I just can’t believe this.”
    Rose had heard