Page 89 of The System

“Are you?” Kieran asked.

“Am I what?”

“Guilty?”

“What? No, I told you that. What’s this about, Kieran?”

“Marin, were you married again after Nick May?”

“What?”

“Did you marry some guy named Cory?”

“Shit. Cory, yeah,” she said. “I forgot all about Cory. Why?”

“You didn’t tell me you were married twice.”

“It wasn’t a real marriage,” Marin said. “We went to Atlantic City after three weeks of knowing each other, and we were both drunk. He was high, too. I guess I got a little contact-high from the weed, too. That stuff he smoked was strong as hell. Anyway, it wasn’t legit. The guy who did it was dressed as Elvis.”

“That doesn’t make it illegitimate,” Kieran replied. “Did you get a marriage license?”

“As part of the stupid package, probably. There were also pictures and a video we got on a CD included. I think Cory threw that thing out the window on the drive back to Florida. The shitty car he had broke down twice, and we fought a bunch. By the time we got home, I left him and moved.”

“You just left him? The house you lived in?”

“We didn’t live together. I was staying in someone else’s apartment at the time. I was between leases and jobs for a few months, but I got one in Tampa right after we got back, so I left. Why? What’s this about, Kieran? I really did forget all about that. You’re saying I’m still technically married to that guy?”

“No, because Cory is dead,” she answered.

“What?” Marin asked.

“Cory is dead, and he died the same way Nick did.”

“Cory was shot?”

“Not just shot, but his house was burned, too.”

Marin’s expression changed as she figured it out.

“You think I did that?”

“Kind of hard to overlook all these coincidences, isn’t it?” Kieran sighed. “And before you say anything else, you just need to remember that everything we talk about is being recorded.”

“Shit, Kieran. I don’t care about that. Let them record me. I didn’t kill Cory. We got back to Miami, and I guess I would’ve moved in with him or something, but we didn’t exactly plan to get married. He’d won eight hundred dollars on some scratchers and took that money to a friend’s poker game, where he got another two grand from winning. He said we should go to Atlantic City to spend it all and maybe win some more because he was on a streak. I hopped in the car. Look, he was a good lay, okay? That was all I really knew about the guy. He drank and smoked, but he never hit me, and he treated me right. Maybe not as right as how your fancy attorney ex-husband treated you, but right enough for me to think I might have found a decent guy for once. I remember we gambled for two days up there, and he lost most of the money he’d won. He wanted to stay, but we didn’t have enough money to pay for the cheap motel and get back home, so after we got wasted and, apparently, legally married – which I honestly didn’t even realize and all but forgot about – we headed home. On the way, the car broke down, and he fixed the oil leak himself, but the second time, he had to take it to a mechanic, and we were stuck in another cheap motel. That’s where he changed. He wasn’t as bad as Nick, but he yelled at me for buying food from a vending machine when I was hungry because he’d paid for everything and I’d been holding out my money on him. I’d had a hundred bucks with me the whole time. That was it. And I bought him food from the stupid machine, too. That fight was fine. I mean, whatever. He was pissed about losing and about his car. We made up after that. Then, we’re driving the rest of the way back, and he’s still pissed about losing all his money, and I said that he shouldn’t have gambled it away. He raised his hand, but he didn’t hit me. He put it back in his lap, and we didn’t talk the whole rest of the way. When we got back, I went to my place. I got a call the next day from a grocery store in Tampa that they’d seen that I’d applied for a job there, which I had before I met Cory. They wanted to meet with me about it, so I just packed my one bag and left. I didn’t even say goodbye to him, okay? And I never saw him after that. That’s the whole story.”

“Well, I don’t know about any of that,” Kieran said. “But I do know that they have the date of your wedding from the certificate they tracked down, and Cory was killed less than a week later.”

“A week later?” Marin said. “Jesus, he’s been dead this whole time?”

“Yes, Marin.”

“But I would’ve been in Tampa by then.”

“Who can tell the cops they saw you there because if you’re saying you didn’t do this, either, you’ll need a better alibi than the mythical number twelve bus.”

“Fuck you, Kieran. I was on that damn bus. Or, at least, a bus. You’re the one who pointed out that I had a concussion after getting smacked in the head by a board. I got the call for Tampa the day after we got back, but I had to arrange a place to stay before I left, so I didn’t leave until the day after that. I took the bus, so I’m sure there’s footage of me on there, if they still have it. Not that you or anyone else would look at that to prove that I’m telling the truth, but I got into Tampa that night, checked into a motel – paid cash before you ask about credit cards I’ve never had – and stayed there for a few days before I got the job. I moved to a different motel then that was closer to the store until I could afford a deposit and rent on a terrible apartment. That’s the whole story. I didn’t know Cory was dead until you just told me.”

“When did you start your job?”

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