"That was pretty brave with a knife at you throat."
"Pure reaction but it got you in the door in a hurry."
Jackson wrote copious notes. "Then, bang, bang, he's dead. Do you remember anything else?"
"Only not being able to see with all the lights in my eyes. I heard the gun shot." I looked him in the eye. "Thanks. It's nice to be alive."
"Whatever," he said. "But it wasn't me, thank God."
The idea of killing another human being, no matter what the justification, hadn't sunk in. I'm sure whoever did it, was feeling very conflicted about now. It was apparent by the look on Jackson's face. "I'm sorry for the guy who did it," I said. "Please convey my thanks to him. There isn't a doubt in my mind I'm breathing now because of him. He saved my life."
"It goes with the badge. Now, I got a few more questions. I've got to tell you, this guy wasn't looking to rip of a TV and the family silver. He was searching for something." He gave me a hard look. "Any idea what this scavenger hunt was all about?"
The only item of information I'd withheld from Detective Jackson was that the assailant had asked me where everybody else was. I'd not remembered that tidbit when Jackson first questioned me, but even now, I was reluctant to move his inquiry in that direction. I didn't want to lie directly so I hedged.
"I didn't have time to consider. I was too busy trying to stay alive."
"So, your buddy," he looked at his notes. "This Howie Abbott, he isn't into drugs or shit like that; to the best of you knowledge."
"Believe me, no one comes straighter than Howie," I answered.
"Is he an absentminded tightwad?" Jackson asked, surprising me.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your pal leaves for a few days and turns off the power. Why? So he saves fifty cents 'cause the night light isn't burning?"
"That surprised me too," I said.
"But he's absent minded 'cause he forgets he's got a full refrigerator of stuff that's going to rot and stink up the place." That hadn't dawned on me. It made no sense. Jackson continued. "But a funny thing; the milk doesn't smell bad and everything still feels cold. What does that tell you?"
"That the power hasn't been off very long."
"You're sure you didn't turn it off?"
"Why would I do that? I burned my fingers because it was dark. If I had a clue where the breaker box was located I'd have turned the lights on, not off!" It ticked me that he'd ask that question.