Detective Jeffries: So, as you know, we’re just trying to get to the bottom of this case, talk to some people that knew this fella.
Noah Solloway: That thing I thought that was an accident?
Detective: Well, we’re just trying to get a sense of what happened, from people who knew him. Can you describe the incidents leading up to, uh, I guess the bigger incident? The one that I’m referring to.
Detective: Oh, by the way, before we go any further, let me just mention that my wife has left me. That bitch.
Noah: Ah. Yes, that is useful information as I go forward with my informal testimony which certainly does not require the presence of a lawyer at all.
Detective: So really, any details into the relationship you were having with Alison during that time…before…the thing? I mentioned? And really, it only has to be relevant details. So that stuff about what the weather was like at Block Island won’t really be necessary for the investigation…
Noah: But no, see, it is important. Because Alison was talking about Peter Pan. Actually, wait, let me back up. Did I tell you how much I paid for that coffee? On the boat?
Detective: Sure. Right. You paid too much money.
Noah: DAMN RIGHT! AND THEN I SPILLED IT ALL OVER MYSELF!
Detective: Again, Mr. Solloway, I don’t think this level of detail is necessary for our records…
Noah: No, no, this is important. So I’m spending all this money, just trying to get coffee, and these kids running the boat cafe go “Here is your $4 change!” For two cups of boat coffee that couldn’t have cost more than $1 each? How is that possible. Now everyone’s confused over what size bill I’d just handed over, you know?
Detective: Mr. Solloway, please, if we could just move past the coffee thing.
Noah: …So I was like “KEEP THE CHANGE!” You know? Because I was a very rich writer, I can admit it. I was very good at writing, as you will note in my testimony about how everyone said I was super good at it. Even like, super high end book agents who played tennis with Martin Amis? They knew that my story about an author murdering his townie girlfriend would become a major bestseller.
Detective: Sorry, actually. What was that last part?
Noah: The part about how an agent I met with said my book idea was good?
Detective: No. What was the book idea?
Noah: Oh, I dunno. A guy, a place, something something murder something something bootlegger fish drugs expose tell-all based in real life maybe. I don’t know, man. You should just read my book. It’s very good. The first one was too. Everyone said so all the time, if I remember correctly. I’d get calls from my editor being like “Ah, we need more books! You are too good at describing stuff and now America wants more of you and not your shitty father-in-law who never respected your craft.”
Detective: Sorry, who said that?
Noah: Oh. Like everyone, basically. People on the street. Alison always said that kind of stuff, I think. When she wasn’t talking about Peter Pan.
Detective: So it says here that you may have witnessed at transaction at the Montauk docks. Did you actually see Ms. Lockhart pick up a container of fresh fish from her brother-in-law? Are you positive it contained fish and only fish?
Noah: Oh! Right! Alison! So then Alison is all like “I’m free-spirited hippie girl, come cheat on your wife with me!” And I was all like “Can’t babe, sorry.”
Detective: Uh-huh. Wait, regarding my last question, Mr. Solloway.
Noah: But she kept begging for me to have an affair. (Witness shrugs.) Whatcha gonna do, right? She just really, really wanted to have sex, I guess. And I needed a muse….but seriously, did I mention how expensive that crap up in the Hamptons are? Seriously, you go buy a tchotchke or some clothes that some shi-shi boutique owner makes you buy because you’ve “made love” in them? Or ice-cream? It’s literally impossible to spend less than $75 on two ice creams in the summer season at Block Island. Not that I care. I once bought a shirt $100 for a lobster shack just because I am a big strong man.
Detective: Right. See, is there any possibility that maybe your relationship existed outside of the vacuum of your own male ego?
Noah: ….I don’t understand. Is that like a metaphor? Or a simile?
Detective: (sighs) I think, actually, to save some time, we should just skip ahead to when…
Noah: Ah, yes. Coitus reservatus.
Detective: No no no no…. wait, what?
Noah: So there we are, Alison and I, having torrid sex on the beach or in a hotel or wherever.
Detective: Actually the location is probably the most important detail…
Noah: And I’m like “I shouldn’t.” But she’s all “Take me!” And then I’m like “I love my wife so much, ahhh! Conflicted feelings!” And she’s like “Please, I don’t care about you being married, I just really, really need sexual relations right now.” I’m pretty sure that’s what she said. So then I’m kissing her…or wait…she’s kissing me. And then we take our shirts off super slowly. Like you’d probably describe it as more like we’re peeling off our layers, you know? And we’re just really bare, emotionally and physically. As naked as two newborn children who will probably either die in some horrific way or grow to disappoint their parents.
Detective: No, I get the metaphor.
Noah: Simile! But sure, you get the picture. I’m on top, thrusting, groaning into her like “Urggggh.” You know, that deep guttural noise that’s just mostly vowels? “EEeooooorrrugh?” It’s like sweaty moaning as I mount my conquest, the inhuman noises of our sexual relations too loud and disturbing not to mute completely if there are children or parents nearby.
Detective: Dear lord.
Noah: She’s into to it, too. And then there’s one more long “EEeooooorrrugh” from me. And then we switch so she’s on top. Unconventional, I know. And so there she is, full frontal, and I can see everything…
Detective: You know what, we’re good for today.
Noah: But…but…I didn’t even get to tell you how much I overpaid for jam last week! Did you get that down?
Detective: Yeah, we’re good for right now.
Noah: Well detective, I hope this helps solves that accident non-crime you’re so worried about.
Detective: Well Noah, I don’t believe in accidents.
Noah: And that sounds like a ‘you’ problem. Or the title of my next great novel. Hey, do you mind if I work on that? “The Guy From That Place Who Didn’t Believe in Things.” That’s gonna impress the Pulitzer committee this year!
Detective: Sure, whatever you need. Just please get the hell out of my office.