(In the “safe room” of Mathew Serig’s home)
Tom, “I gotta go, Matt. I gotta find out what happened.”
Mathew, “The police are investigating here and in the South Downs.”
Tom, with a bit of incredulousness and attitude, “An’ you trust the police, a hundred percent?”
Mathew, calmly, “No. And, and (Tom about to interrupt), I have no reason not to at this point.”
Tom, “How do you know they’re not in on it? How do you know it’s some kind of cover up?”
Mathew, years-weary from this typical type of response from Tom, “Why do you always go straight to conspiracy theories?”
Tom, “Do you know for sure some higher up, some noble, isn’t doing this stuff and the cops are tryina cover it up?”
Mathew, attempting to keep his composure, “Do you know for sure they are? Do you have any evidence at all that would lead a reasonable person to think there is some grand conspiracy going on?”
Tom, “No. That’s the problem.”
Mathew, flatly, “The problem’s you’re jumping to conclusions.”
Tom, “All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure what’s going on.”
Mathew, “No, we don’t.”
Tom, a bit full of himself, “So why don’t I go find out?”
Mathew, “You?”
Tom, “Yeah. Me.”
Mathew, “You’ve done professional investigations at some point in your life?”
Tom, sure of himself, “I can talk to people. Get them to open up to me. I’m great at doin’ that.”
Mathew, with a bit of sarcasm, “Are ya now?”
Tom, “Hey, there’s a better chance somebody that know’s somethin’ about Pene is gonna talk ta me rather than some cop. And I have connections in the South Downs. Maybe someone I know knows something, but they’re not gonna tell the cops. But they’ll tell me.”
Mathew, “Ya know that cult, or whatever, that killed Pene and that family is still out there. They could pop up at the end of this month and maybe next. Yer safer here than if you go out an’ frolic aroun’ the countryside.”
Tom, “Maybe I’m safer here. Can you say for certain if those people come for me they won’t get me here?”
Mathew, getting a bit annoyed, “You do realize there is a difference between certainty and probability, don’t chu?”
Tom, “Maybe this place is not as safe as you think it is.”
Mathew nods a bit a few times, “Maybe it’s not.” A pause. Mathew, “Okay.”
Tom, “Okay what?”
Mathew, “You wanna go. You’re not a prisoner here. Tomorrow morning, let’s say sometime before dawn so you can kinna get out without being seen, you, and if you want, a security detail, can leave with provisions for about a month. An’ you go do what you gotta do. Soun’ good?”
Tom, slowly nodding, “Yeah. Yeah.” Mathew slowly nods back.
A bit later when Mathew is by himself. ‘I wasn’t his keeper, or his jailer. I was trying to keep the fat fuck safe. Him an’ his fuckin’ conspiracy theory bullshit. Always with conspiracies. Always has to jump ta that shit, an’ this certitude versus what is probable thing. (In a tone mocking Tom’s voice) Can you say a hundred percent? Fine. Go. Go quest after your fuckin’ whore . . . Maybe he can find something. An’ maybe he gets himself killed. And that would be one less fat-fuck problem I’d have ta deal with. An’ good riddance. Tom has become a liabilidy. He’s been a liabilidy for a long time. The less of those I gotta deal with, the better. Go after yer whore, yer dead whore, ya fuckin’ dumb bastard. The less I see ya, the bedder I feel.’
