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to steal them out of the laundry bags when he broke into a house—or from Laundromats).
    I had tears in my eyes at this point from laughing so hard.
    “Yup.” Bob laughed along with me. “Even the cop’s partner started laughing. What can I say? I love women’s underwear. All kinds.”
    “You know,” he said, “can you tell me if I have ADHD? As a kid I was told that I had ADHD, but I don’t know if I do or not. I mean, do you know how hard it is to hold still sitting in a tree to stare through the cracks in a Levolor blind on a second-floor window for three hours until someone comes into the bedroom and takes their clothes off?”
    “Nope,” I said.
    “Well, it’s not easy,” he said, sitting back.
    After another hour or so of stories, I was getting a pretty good picture of Bob.
    “Okay, Bob. We’ve got to talk about your latest crime. What happened?”
    “Oh, that. Well, it’s pretty simple really. This girl I was living with, well, she pushed all my buttons. I mean, she hit all three, right in a row and I just got pissed. I ran after her into the bathroomwhere she was drawing a bath and pushed her really hard into the wall. She hit her head on the wall and slid into the tub, which was full of water. I just grabbed her around the throat and held her under the water. I was so pissed off. Then ya know, bells go off inside my head … oh, shit. I’m in trouble. Look what I did. I got to clean this up, figure out how to get out from under this crap. I mean, she was such a bitch to me that night.” Bob was animated, laughing at some of the “funny” parts of this story. He used his hands a lot, gesturing about the entire sequence of events.
    Across the table, I was feeling nauseated thinking about what he had done. I’d stopped laughing a while ago.
    “So I wrapped her up in a big blanket, took her outside [it was dark], and put her in the car. Ya know, it was pretty stupid. I put her in the front passenger seat. Then I drove down the way a bit to a bridge and threw her over into the river, threw the blanket away in a Dumpster, and went out to create an alibi.”
    “Where did you go?” I asked.
    “I went and ate and drank some beer at my local pub, ya know, to act like nothing had happened. Then I went out and got a prostitute. I wanted to pay with a credit card, ya know, to get a receipt, but she wouldn’t let me, so I had to go and slap her around a little bit, ya know, so she would remember me and stuff since she wouldn’t give me a credit card receipt. It was nothing hard, ya know, but just enough so she would remember me, for my alibi.
    “And then I went home. Went to bed. It was a couple days later when things started to unravel. Her mom kept calling, looking for her [he says this with a confused look on his face as if he doesn’t understand why his girlfriend’s mother would worry about not hearing from her daughter], and I told her mom that we had had an argument and she had packed a bag and moved out.
    “The police came by and questioned me a bit. I just told them the same story, told them where I was the night she left. Ya know, I went out with a prostitute. Go check it out.
    “They [the cops] kept coming back and forth to see me, but I never changed my story. After about a month, the mom was driving the cops crazy and they kept coming back to see me, would handcuff me, tell me they found the body [they were lying], all sorts ofstuff. They even put a camera on me. I played a good trick on the cops, though. When they were recording my interview, I told them I wanted a lawyer, I repeated over and over. And then I could just say, later, ya know, they refused to give me my lawyer.
    “I figured that they would find the body someday, and then I would be really screwed. So I figured if I confessed on tape after they refused to get me my lawyer, I might get the case tossed out on a technicality, and then they could never charge me if they found the body and stuff. So, well, I kept asking