Page 20 of Nothing Watching

Schmidt dragged a chair through from the kitchen, which was thimble sized and separated by an archway, and plunked it down in the middle of the room. He slumped down on it and the chair creaked audibly.

“Okay. Go on then. If you have something to say, say it,” he challenged.

Juliette regarded him calmly. His emotions had already been flaring too high. Schmidt was clearly on edge, and any wrong move could send him spiraling out of control again.

“We’re looking to confirm your whereabouts on the night of the murders,” she said, her voice steady. “That’s all.”

Schmidt snorted. “What makes you think I had anything to do with those murders? I’m just a guy trying to live his life after prison!”

“We’re not saying that you did,” Juliette replied, keeping her tone neutral. “We just need to know where you were at certain times.”

She was glad that Wyatt had sensed that he was triggering Schmidt, and was now sitting quietly, listening carefully, almost seeming to withdraw himself from the situation. She appreciated his good instincts, and the fact that he was prepared to do this without his ego coming into play.

“What times?” Schmidt challenged.

“Last night, for a start,” Juliette said in level tones.

“Well, what time last night?”

“After nine p.m.” She wasn’t sure what the latest time was that Hannah could have been taken. She didn’t have as tight a timeframe as Iris.

He shrugged. “Last night, I was here. Home. Reading. So arrest me!” He glowered at her.

Juliette could see the frustration in his eyes. She needed to keep pressing, and hope that he didn’t explode under the pressure. “Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”

Schmidt’s eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an answer. “No one was here with me, if that’s what you’re asking. I was alone.”

“Okay. And what about the night before?” Juliette asked, keeping her tone calm and professional.

Schmidt hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to the side.

“I’m studying,” he muttered. “That’s where I was.”

“Studying?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah, I’m working as a cleaner, four days a week, and at night I’m trying to get a qualification,” Schmidt said, sounding defensive.

“What subject?” Juliette asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Barbering,” Schmidt said, his tone becoming more confident. “I’m hoping to become a men’s groomer one day.”

“That’s interesting,” Juliette said, nodding. “And where were you studying?”

“There’s a night school in the south of Berlin,” he said. “I go there. The courses are from eight until ten thirty. I got home at eleven. And I have an attendance register that I sign at the school. I show my parole officer that I’m studying further.” He sounded defiant but committed.

“Can you show me any proof?” She glanced at the hair and beauty magazines on the bookcase, which now made sense, and backed up his story, too.

“I have some details on my phone, he told her.

He reached for his phone in his pocket, opened it, and scrolled through.

Looking down, Juliette was ninety-five percent convinced. Yes, it could have been faked, but if it had been, then he surely wouldn’t have shown it without a fight.

“Okay, thank you for letting us know that,” Juliette said, making a mental note of the information. “We’ll need to confirm it with the school, but it looks as if you are cleared.”

“Well, so I would hope,” he grumbled, but the rage had gone out of him. She decided that this aggressive man was genuinely trying to change his ways, even though he had a quick temper. She didn’t think he was the killer.

Already, Wyatt was messaging Sierra to get her to check out the alibi, and Juliette was sure that by the time they reached the car, they would have confirmed it.

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