Chapters (40)
- Sin determinar
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- THE END
But that brought up an interesting point, one that filled the rest of my otherwise pleasant drive through the homicidal homeward bound crowd with genuine worry. Suppose they did have Weiss all safely cuffed and mirandized? What would happen when they started to ask him questions? Things like, why did you do it? And more importantly, why did you do it to Dexter? What if he had the very poor taste to answer them truthfully? So far he had showed an appalling willingness to tell everyone all about me, and although I am not particularly shy, I would rather keep my real accomplishments hidden from the public eye.
And if Coulter added the things Weiss might blather to what he already suspected from seeing the video, things might get very unhappy in Dexterville.
It would have been a much better thing if I had been able to confront Weiss by myself —settle things amicably, mano a mano —or possibly cuchillo a cuchillo —and solve the problem of Weiss's urge to communicate by feeding my Passenger. But I'd had no real choice in the matter —Coulter had been there and heard it, and I'd had to go along. After all, I was a law-abiding citizen -1 really was, technically speaking; I mean, innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, right?
And it was looking more and more like it would come down to a court of law, starring Dexter in an orange jumpsuit and leg irons, which I could not look forward to at all —orange is a very bad color for me. Of course, being accused of murder would really be a major roadblock to my true happiness. I don't have any illusions about our legal system; I see it on the job every day, and I am quite sure that I could beat it, unless they actually catch me in the act, on film, in front of a bus filled with US senators and nuns. But even an open accusation would put me under the kind of scrutiny that would spell an end to my playtime activities, even if I was found to be completely innocent. Just look at poor OJ; once he was under suspicion, it was bound to end up badly.
But what could I do about it? My options were very limited.
I could either let Weiss talk, in which case I was in trouble, or stop him from talking —in which case, exact same result. There was no way around it. Dexter was in deep, and the tide was rising.