In the Company of Liars

THREE DAYS EARLIER
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13

Allison takes the chair that is offered and sits. She declines a drink but thinks better of it, says she’ll have some water.

Detective Joseph Czerwonka returns to the interrogation room with a bottle of Evian and sets it in front of her. He takes the seat across from her. “I’m going to tape this conversation,” he tells her.

She nods. The detective reaches for the tape recorder, in the center of the small desk that separates them, and hits the “Record” button.

“My name is Detective Joseph Czerwonka,” he says. “The date is February the thirteenth. Time is three-thirteen p.m. I am speaking with Allison Quincy Pagone. Mrs. Pagone, I am going to advise you of your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything that you do say to me can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to counsel. If you cannot afford an attorney, an attorney will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights, Mrs. Pagone?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to have an attorney present?”

“No,” she says. “I waive counsel.”

“Do you understand that I am recording this conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’d like to go over a few things since we spoke two days ago. First, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Czerwonka is dressed better today than two days ago. He’s wearing a crisp blue shirt and a nice silver silk tie. She figures he’s expecting to be on camera today.

“Mrs. Pagone.” The detective reaches into a bag at his feet. He sets a large plastic bag on the table. In it is a single platinum earring. “We recovered this earring from your jewelry box yesterday. Do you acknowledge that this is your earring?”

“I won’t answer that.”

He nods. “Can you explain to me why I found only one earring, and not two, at your house?”

“No comment.”

“Mrs. Pagone, I’m giving you the chance to explain this for me. We found the second of these two earrings at Sam Dillon’s house.”

She stares at him. “That’s not a question.”

“Do you have any explanation for that, ma’am? How one of those earrings found its way to Sam Dillon’s house?”

“No comment.”

“No comment,” he repeats. “You won’t provide us any explanation?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Are you familiar with a brand of fingernail polish called ‘Saturday Evening Red’? Made by Evelyn Masters?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“That was the brand of polish found on the broken fingernail at Mr. Dillon’s house.”

Allison nods. Again, no question pending.

“We also found that polish in your home,” he says. “And we found cotton balls in your garbage that contain that polish, along with traces of nail-polish remover.”

She stares at him.

“Did you recently remove that nail polish from your fingers?”

“No comment.”

“Were you romantically involved with Sam Dillon?”

“I already answered that, last time, Detective.”

“You said ‘no,’ last time. Is that still your answer?”

“I have nothing more to say.”

Czerwonka is not deterred. “Are you refusing to answer any questions at all, Mrs. Pagone?”

“It looks that way.”

“Let me-let me be candid with you, Mrs. Pagone. We have a hair follicle that looks a lot like yours, recovered from Sam Dillon’s home. It has the bulb still attached, which means there’s DNA. We now have a sample of your DNA and I think there’s going to be a match. What doyou think?”

She shakes her head.

“And you know we’re going to do a DNA test on that sweatshirt,” he adds. “You think that’s going to be your blood we find on there? Or Sam Dillon’s?”

“You’ll find what you find.”

“We’ve got your fingernail, we’ve got your earring, and we have a silver Lexus SUV-like the one you drive-seen at Sam Dillon’s home around one in the morning, and we’ve got you returning to your house with mud all over you, a little before two. We’ve got you going to Dillon’s office in the capital the day before he was murdered. You were shouting at him. By all accounts, it sounds like he was dumping you. Ending your relationship.”

Allison folds her arms.

“I’m giving you this chance to explain this to me, Mrs. Pagone. Look.” Czerwonka makes a face, leans on his elbows. “I could see why you don’t want to admit being involved with Dillon. He works alongside your ex. You two probably wanted to keep it quiet. I get that. I’d probably do the same thing, if it were me. And then the thing gets complicated. He says some awful things to you. Breaks your heart. I’ve been there. You-you’ve had a tough go of it. A divorce, then a rebound, then that guy dumps you, too. Your head, it’s not where it should be. You’re not doing anything like a cold, calculated murder. It’s like the heat of the moment, you just snap. That’s not Murder One, Mrs. Pagone. You’ve been a lawyer. You lawyers call it diminished capacity, right? Manslaughter, maybe. Maybe-who knows? Temporary insanity.”

Allison rolls her neck. She’d like to reach over and smack this guy.

“That’s not life in prison. That’s not a needle in your arm. But see, you don’t help me out here, I have to see this thing the way it looks. Premeditated murder. I have all I need, right now, Mrs. Pagone. How we charge you is up to you now, not me.”

“I have nothing to say, Detective,” she says. “Do what you’re going to do.”

“Just-” He raises a hand. “Just talk to me about Sam. We know you two were an item. You told your daughter, Mrs. Pagone. Just tell me what you told her.”

“Do what you’re going to do, Detective. I’m not saying another word.”

Joe Czerwonka’s lips move into a grim smile. He shakes his head, as if to say,you had your chance. “I’m going to place you under arrest, Mrs. Pagone,” he says, rising to his feet. “For the murder of Samuel Dillon.”