by Greg Wilburn
the buildings) These are the buildings that sit right next to each other on the street. The one on the right is O’ Talleys, and the one on the left is L’ ouvre Di Mar, that French restaurant everybody likes. (He pulls up the pictures of the footprints. He lays them next to the buldings). And these are footprints we found on the tops of the buildings this morning. We took molds and found out that they match your shoes and weight. And what’s worse for you is that this last picture (he pulls it out) is an angle from a group of witnesses—two to be exact—that say they saw someone matching your description on the roofs of those buildings around two fifteen this morning, just before the time of the murders. (Both of them look at me with winning looks on their stupid faces. They’ve actually got something to go on.)
And with that, you’re lookin’ pretty guilty, Carson. You can’t talk your way out of this piece of the puzzle. Looks like we’ve had you all along, jackass. Go ahead, try to talk your way outta this one. The captain would love to hear it.
(I sit quietly for a second and gather myself) What’s wrong, buddy, (Bailey walks around the table and rubs my back while Dirk smiles) finally at a loss for words? That’s so unlike you. I’ll take that silence of yours as an admission of guilt. And if we get this in the court, you could be goin’ away for a long time.”
(I get nervous and lick my teeth. I prepare a quick defense and pray my lawyer is about to come in)
Me: “That’s pretty funny, because there’s not very much for you to go on. (I look them both in their eyes) Let me break this down for you, fellas, and show you that little bitches can’t play with the big boys out there.
(I point at the pictures of the footprints) You see the grooves in these footprints? They’re covered in diamond patterns. If you were to actually check the shoes I have at my place, and even the ones I’m wearing now, you’d see the soles are all flat and don’t have patterns. You see, grown-ups don’t need stupid patterns on their shoes when they get quality ones. And I bet you didn’t find any discarded bloody pairs of shoes anywhere, because the killer changed his shoes, which any smart person would do (I recall tossing my shoes in the incinerator before getting home from the park today. No way they could find them). So, nice try guys, but no dice.
Next, (I point at the angled picture) you idiots have to remember that we’re in the middle of Spring. Every night for the past week we’ve had rain fallin’ and all the windows have been covered in condensation. So, at three-fuckin’ whatever in the morning, those people wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing (I feel good because I see Bailey and Dirk squirm, and I’m clawing out of the mistakes I made. For good measure I take a mental note of the angle of the picture and start plannin’ to send some of my guys to take care of the witnesses, if any). Looks like the Mother Nature wasn’t on your side this time, bitches. (I give them hateful glances that say I’m gonna get them back for this shit) It looks like I’m all clear of this stupid crime and you assholes beat up an innocent guy for nothin.’ Maybe one day you’ll actually be able to do you fuckin’ jobs and catch somebody. But that’s not likely based on your performance here.
(Bailey leaps over the table as Dirk rushes around. They start punchin’ and kickin’ me, but I’m not defending myself because I’m laughing too hard at making them look so fuckin’ stupid. The three of us jump when the glass on the wall shakes. We sit there stunned until the interrogation room door opens and in walks the police chief and my lawyer.
The police chief yells out Bailey and Dirk’s names and pulls them out of the room. My lawyer picks me up and asks if I’m good. I tell him how I made the cops look like bitches and he smiles, saying that I’m a good-for-nothing asshole who never thinks he needs a lawyer. Then he tells me I might as well give up crime and become a lawyer myself. I laugh loud and thank him for brightening my day. He’s always been a good guy, to me and my boys. Can’t imagine not havin’ him with us.
He lets me lean on his shoulder and we walk out of the interrogation room as he tells me they got nothin’ on me and that they can’t hold me. As we step out the door, I look to my left and see Bailey, Dirk, and the chief staring death at me. I laugh again as I look at Bailey and Dirk and say, “Later, assholes. Looks like you couldn’t do your fuckin’ jobs. If you want to try again, you know where to find me and my boys.”
Bailey puts his hand on his gun, but the chief stops him. Dirk says, “This isn’t over, Carson. We’ll see you around.” I turn and face them head on. I tell them, “Yeah, you’re gonna see me around for sure because this ain’t over. Watch your backs, and make sure you don’t let your family’s alone for too long. I’ll be comin’ for ya.” They’re unaffected by my threat, which I’m gonna follow up on.
My lawyer and I walk through the office space, and all the cops there look at me with hate. I ignore them and focus on the grey light of the rainy day outside. My lawyer offers me an umbrella and we step outside. I have a big ol’ grin on my face and breath in the wet air outside. It tastes of freedom, with a backbite of revenge to come.)
I take a step back from the mirror in my bathroom. I brush my teeth, put on some deodorant, and then put on my good suit. I stand there, runnin’ through what’s to come a second time. I hear some bashin’ on my door. The door splinters off its hinges and I hear them comin’ for me. I tighten my tie and smooth out the wrinkles. I smile big. Rehearsal’s over, and I’m ready for the real show to begin at the police station.
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Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it and will look forward to the other ones I bring forth in the future.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Michael Matchell, for all of his hard work and dedication.
To my family, for all of their support and encouragement.