He was tall and skinny, wearing baggy red cargo pants and a white tank top stained with spaghetti sauce. He had a wide, flat nose with flaring nostrils and a chin that was fuzzy with long, curling hairs. His cornrows dipped below his ears. He had big hands with long fingers. His left ear sported an earring, and he wore a simple chain with a cross around his neck.

‘What’s this about?’ Pugh asked her.

‘Do you know a man named Jay Ferris?’

‘No.’

She dug in the pocket of her burgundy jacket for a photograph. ‘This is a picture of Mr. Ferris. Do you recognize him?’

‘No.’

‘He was murdered a few weeks ago. He lived in a big house up on the hill in Duluth. He wrote a newspaper column.’

‘Don’t get no paper,’ Pugh replied.

She rattled off the date of Jay’s death. ‘Do you remember what you were doing that night? It was a Friday.’

‘You’re kidding, right? One day’s like every other.’

‘Do you own a gun, Mr. Pugh?’

‘I got kids. No guns in my house. What are you talking to me for, anyway?’

‘You own a white Rav,’ Maggie said. ‘A witness spotted a white Rav not far from the house where the murder took place.’

Pugh chuckled and shook his head. ‘Yeah, how many of them trucks are there around here? Did you run through all the licenses and pick out the black faces?’

‘We picked out the people with criminal records,’ Maggie replied. ‘Jay Ferris was shot, and jewelry was taken from his home. You’ve had a series of convictions in the last decade for burglary and auto theft, Mr. Pugh.’

‘True enough. You see me using a gun in any of them?’

‘No.’

‘No, you didn’t. Nobody got hurt. And fact is, the last time I was inside was three years ago. I’m clean now. I got a job.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I drive a truck. I deliver machine parts all over the Midwest. Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, Nebraska, the Dakotas. Most days I’m hundreds of miles away from here. Hard being away from home, but it’s a living. An honest living. I got a job, a wife, kids. Jesus blessed me.’

‘Good for you.’ Maggie eyed the house, which needed work. ‘Looks like you could use some extra money, though.’

‘Yeah, and if I was breaking into rich people’s houses, I guess I could do better than this, huh?’

‘Sometimes desperate people will do just about anything,’ Maggie said.

Pugh jabbed a finger at her. He’d chewed his nails and cuticles until they were bloody. Maggie spotted movement in the front window and saw a boy’s face peering out with wide eyes. He’d pushed aside the curtain, which looked like a plastic tablecloth. A woman’s arm dragged him away.