Chapter 3 - My Problem II
So, my drive out to the little capitol city of my state? Couple hours of driving time. I took Friday and Monday off work, I was between big projects anyways. I got the nod I could do the same for another couple weekends. How cool is that? My work schedule is loosening, voluntarily lining the planets up for my wonderful couple of weekends. I drove out in the night, the way I like to make the trip. I leave after dark, drive the couple several hours in the middle of the night. I get there in the wee hours.
I make a few pit stops for bathroom or snacks on the toll road. Stretch the legs. I talk on the CB. If no one is there to talk to for a stretch? I let my trusty mobile scanner feed me local cops doing their thing. Its mountainous country in the middle of my state, and a lot of back roads outside of the toll road. Farm country for long stretches. Even then, the scanner is my fast friend. If nothing else? I feel like a cop up all night on graveyard shift. Every fifteen minutes, dispatch touches base with the hopefully bored locals with time codes and the occasional chirp of the code system. The units report in they're fine.
Because if the cops on night duty, starting the weekend out here are bored? That means there's no drunken troop of chimpanzees escaped from the circus raising hell like in the little towns in my area. An accident? A barking dog call. Wouldn't be that bad to be a cop out here, I realized. Bored more than up to your neck in ridiculousness.
Then, as I get closer to the city? It starts. The nonsense. Drunken brawls. Car accidents, both drivers drunk, fist fighting in the intersection whose fault it is. Like a fistfight solves that question, you know? People are retarded. Observation. I think I can beat you up, and I can prove it. Conclusion? My opinion is proven right. I thought we evolved some as a society, past the middle ages and the whole trial by combat idea? Nope.
I understand conflicts and even fights and other shenanigans are a fact of life, but it doesn't mean I like the idea. It just is. In this world, the best of all possible worlds. I regard the silly shit in the drunken small towns in my area, and the general craziness that's the city, even a small one? As sort of mildly entertaining. I stand there, I watch. Or I listen, and in either case? I might laugh or just shake my head.
Like watching a couple of circus midgets do acrobatic stuff then fuck. Is it a novelty to see it? I guess. Not doing anything for me, but hey, might as well say I saw it once. What the hell. Sort of a sheer morbid fascination on my part, I suppose.
I always enjoy when PCP goes around. These are the most entertaining on scanner nights. I don't know exactly what PCP users see or feel. I know its medically supposed to be an animal tranquilizer. I once got several cats all fixed at once. They all got brought back home, and most were sleepy and calm. One slept, and when awake? Looked around like it had a smile on its face. I guess enjoying the weird trip, I don't know. I know they hallucinate.
The one slept or enjoyed staring at nothing as if stuff was happening and it was entertaining or interesting. The other just slept. The one though? It was wide awake. Hiding in the corner of its cage. Fearful and agitated, looking to defend itself. It hissed at nothing, eyes and head jerking around. Swatting with claws out and biting at nothing. I felt so sorry for it, it was seeing scary flying monkeys or something along those lines, I guess. I let them all out when they calmed down. The flying monkeys cat was mine, the others were other people's cats all getting fixed on a program at a great price.
Flying monkey cat? Escaped and ran and hid somewhere and I felt bad it was terrified for its life seeing scary stuff. I tried to coax it out? It knew my voice and wanted to come to me? It was also showing dangerous eyes and growls, and would hop around fighting with nothing. I had no choice but to let it go. It was in a death match with an old work shirt. Poor thing. I wanted to get it into bed and try to calm it? I might be a scary monster and it would eat my face or take my eyes out.
Next morning? It was back in bed and wouldn't leave daddy's side.
People on PCP? Sometimes go nuts like flying monkey cat. They tend to strip naked, and go and do strange and violent shit in public. They have access temporarily to the strength of the demented. I've seen police videos of them getting shot, walking forwards like nothing is wrong. Listening on the scanner to some guy in the middle of the highway the next exit up the highway from my parents house, naked in the middle of the highway at an exit. Multiple state police can't lay hands on this guy and bring him down. Its crazy. They ended up throwing a big cargo net over him, like capturing a dangerous wild animal. Which is what he is at the moment.
I mean, you take animal tranquilizers. That sometimes make the animals flip out hallucinating and get dangerous. The hell did you even expect taking it, you know? This is the silly shit cops have to be paid extra to put up with. So, I'm getting these scanner fun moments as I get closer to the city. Some part of me feels a little guilty, like I know I'm not supposed to think this is funny? But another part of me knows its entertaining.
See, that shit isn't part of my life? And why. Because. I don't take PCP and go on a rampage, naked. My girl doesn't either. We might be a little eccentric, but whatever. A cop stopped once, seeing us walking in the rain in the city, enjoying it late at night. He was one of those... well see, I just don't understand, this is weird, there has to be something going on.
Like he can't find something more productive to do, than hassle two sober people walking in the rain, enjoying it. He thought he was going to "handcuff us for our own protection" and search us, and give us the raspberries. Why? Because he doesn't walk in the rain, and even having it explained to him? He's being an asshole.
My girl is smiling, politely explaining herself blue in the face that this is not prima fascia, Latin for literally "the first thing". Its not grounds to ID check, and certainly not to handcuff us, run his hand all over our private parts and feel us up. He's "concerned about weapons". Well? We both have carry permits and showed him with our drivers licenses. ID we didn't have to show him, but were being nice anyways with him.
When he persisted with the hand cuffing demands, and needing to search for weapons? Which he just saw the carry permits for, so if we did have weapons on us? We're licensed to carry them. She asked him how this was his concern. Why was he looking for what we had a license to have on us anyways.
He started yelling at her, giving her the whole shut the hell up and making fun of her for being "one of those". Then, she hit him with her other ID. That stopped him dead in his tracks. This is the little capitol city. State senators? Are a huge big deal there. You see a senate ID? Cops smile and nod all polite, and tell you to watch your speed. Or to go home and sleep it off.
Her ID, that one? There's two buildings. One is regular employees, and they all get "staff" ID's. They're clearly just bureaucrats. But, the senators all work in the senate building next door. She works in that building, so... she has the same ID as the senators have. It says "State Senate" just like the senator's ID's have.
Cops have no idea if they are dealing with a real live senator walking in the rain, or one of his senior staff. Either way? Apologies, smiles and nods, it was all a misunderstanding. She also showed him her lawyer ID. So, when he was making fun of her for "acting like a lawyer, fuck you and what you don't know about your rights"? Well, it was a lawyer as well as possibly a senator or top level senator staff, and... he was very sheepish.
I bring perks to her world, like making the computers and working on stuff to save thousands on her house. She brings her magic ID's and at times like this? Its a perk.
I'm parking, I get to park in her private lot in the city, next to her house in an alley. Its very prestigious to rent your own personal parking stalls like that, let alone right outside your house. She had to wait a year to get her first stall outside her door, and another year to get the adjacent stall. I also get "magic stickers" on my vehicles like she has. I can park in the "special" parking garage on the private floor, and walk a couple blocks to her house from there. Its really secure parking. Again? Its where senators and their top staff park. There's actually security guards walking rounds. Unlike any other parking garage you can expect cars to get broken into and robbed and rooted around in? Or mugged and raped? Its taken care of.
What sort of a world do we live in, where only the VIP parking garage level, prevents muggings and rapes and robberies and vandalism. Like that stuff is to be expected or something. I parked in the private stall next to her house.
I walk in, its something like 4:00 am. Twirling car keys on my finger. Trying not to wake her up, but I'm bursting, I could just yell honey I'm home? But I don't. Couple hours for her to get up for work, I'll spend a little time with her in the morning before work. Then? Plan my day until she gets home. I have little things I like here. A few junk shops I like to rummage around in. A real CB and HAM store I can hit. My special radio communications quarterly magazine is in the news stand of the pharmacy here... the few things I like about the city.
I take my backpack and duffel bag to my room. She has two bedrooms. Hers and the guest room. Guest room is "mine". Little desk I set my laptop up on. Being quiet. I'll wait to run my clothes through the washer and dryer, no sense waking her up when I can do that after she leaves in the morning. I want this first of several "us" weekends? To be... well, perfect.
I'll settle for a quick shower. I got my backpack and duffel bag. I got my electric shaver and toothbrush and stuff like deodorant and all that in the backpack. The duffel is mainly clothes. I brush my teeth. I get undressed, I get clean clothes out to bum around in and sleep in.
I get one of "my" towels out of the little cupboard for that stuff, with a matching washrag. Oops, almost forgot. I'm supposed to lay another clean dry towel down, to step out on. Girl bathrooms aren't like my man cave bathroom at home. You can't get a single drop anywhere. God forbid a girl's bathroom not look like something on display at the furniture store at the mall, you know? A girl's bathroom in her own house, is supposed to look as if its never seen water. Which is silly to me, I'm a straight guy.
Hmm. Slight smell in here. Now, I know she'll hate that. Females like showroom bathrooms, not the man-cave old gas station bathroom atmosphere single guys can tolerate. Mine at home? Sort of like that, until I make my way around to putting an all new bathroom in. I want to do that right, everything at once. Give Boo Boo Monkey the show bathroom at my house I know she enjoys here. I have to get better at a few things I'm still getting experienced at by helping other people to pull it off good myself. But that smell. Comes and goes. Is that... musty?
Maybe a slow leak under the sink. You get a slow enough leak, you get the bad smell from rot and mildew under the sink without seeing water anywhere. I get on my hands and knees and check out the under the sink situation. No, not a leak, smell goes away under the sink. I file it away in memory. Remember to check the vent isn't clogged. Dead mouse or bird or even a spider web collecting leaves can stop the vent action that makes water chug down drains slow instead of rush and flush like it should. Then the sewer gas can come up through a drain and you smell putrid smells off and on and its hard to pin it down. Because the sewer gas coming up can't get out the vent like normal. I'm a swell boyfriend right now. No way I'm going to risk losing that prime spot, you know.
Later on. Bath time right now.
But whatever. She's putting a stop to the family stealing the weekends off of me. Her life? Is going to be practically all for "me" and "us" now. Life is already good? Its just about to go into the realm of great, I suppose. I mean, I have that bursting with joy feeling. You know, people that just rip the bedclothes off themselves in the morning as soon as the alarm goes off. And just leap out of bed, to see what the day has in store for them today. That? Is how I'm going to be this weekend. I know, I'll make her and me breakfast, have it done for just before the alarm goes off. She's a creature of habit, I know the routine off by heart. Just this shower first... I pull the drawn shower-tub plastic sheet over easily, and...
I froze.
I couldn't move. I've heard about the "I forgot to breathe" thing? Yeah. Its like that. You just, stand there like an idiot, mouth open. Then you gasp and remember you have to suck air in and out. I couldn't even tell you how long I stood there, rooted and staring at what I saw before my eyes. It couldn't be.
I had to be dreaming. No, nightmare. No, they have another level, called night terrors. This was one of those. I'm in shock, but you don't realize it at the time. In dreams? I'll have money in my pocket then I got the wad in my hand. I look at it, I have all this fist full of money. Cool.
Then I look again and go to pay? Its not money. Its... foreign money, or coupons or something silly. I read where written material in a dream? Does that. That you can tell if you're dreaming, if you look two or three times and away then back, and printed things will change. Part of your brain that processes that stuff is barely awake.
So, in shock but not knowing it, I assume I'm having a very bad nightmare. I numbly pull my money out of my pants pocket. Count it carefully. Put it back in the pocket. Take it back out after counting to ten. Look again. Then? I want to see coupons. I don't see fucking coupons. I count the money again. Its still money, its the same count and it doesn't change from money into anything else like every dream I ever had before. I do this I don't know how many times, this routine.
I'm fucked. This is real.
Like I said? I'm in shock. You don't know you're in shock. You don't have control. Some people? Go into hysterics. Screaming and carrying on. Some people scream and cry and sit down and kick their legs and back into a ball in the corner like a toddler just got their ass smacked. Some just freeze and go into a numb shock.
Now I know that's me. I'm the numb in shock kind.
My Boo Boo Monkey? My Rain. My girlfriend, my fiancee? Is clearly dead. She's not just dead, she's been here... I'm no forensics expert? But... a while. I know that much.
Again, I'm not any investigator that knows wild shit like on TV or movies. I'm not in the medical examiner's union either. I can't call cause of death? This, is no heart attack.
She's got the most grievous gaping wounds you can imagine. She looks like... a deer got not hit and ran over, I mean fucking creamed by a tractor trailer and kind of came apart sort of. Its that bad. Neck more than once, big gaping things. I can see... stuff. Like, throat stuff should be hidden but the wounds in the throat show it. Some on the face. Lots in the torso, some on the arms and hands, I guess she put her hands up but it happened anyways. The guts? Lots more there, too. Some on the thighs.
This is worse than a slasher flick. Tub was full of water and soap that has subsided into that, off white cloudy it used to be soap look. But with tons of blood. Mercifully, its winter so there's not shit tons of flies, but... still some winter flies going around wounds. A little spider had made a little web off the side of her head the way it was laying on the edge of the tub your neck rests on when you relax in the tub, just under the controls.
I lay the opposite way, feet to the controls. She gets down head under the controls, I don't know why. To her? That's how its done. She complains if she forgets and bumps her head on the spigot, I tell her again and again lay the other way, it won't happen. She insists. I'm numb and not rational. Someone killed her this savagely for laying the wrong way in her own tub? Silly shit goes through your mind in these shock states. I found that out. I could have lived without knowing that first hand, but.
You don't have any control in this situation. I just... sat down, staring at the tub. At what was in it. What used to be my Rain. This is no suicide. This? This is silly serial killer crazy city shit, is what this is. Exactly what me and her don't get into? Because we don't sell or buy or take PCP or heroin, or any other stupid shit people put through their lives.
This can't have happened. She has all those over achiever degrees. You do that, so you have a better life. Not this shit. But, it sure happened. She has those special ID's. Shit like this doesn't happen to lawyers with corporate law degrees, and special senator ID laminate badge cases. Clearly though, it does.
Honestly can't tell you how long I sat there, in shock. I looked down, her hand is just over the edge of the tub close to me. She never wore her expensive diamond ring I bought her. I always complained. Why did I spend thousands on a useless rock, so it can sit in its little wooden box on your dresser, and only get to come out once a year. If I complain for a week straight? I get to see it on Valentine's day dinner. Maybe on a holiday, if no one is around to report it to her dad and family.
She had it on. For no reason. Taking a bath. She was obviously going to start wearing it. My life really was about to change from good to great.
Not now though.
She's... its not just the wounds. The gaping canoe shaped openings all over. Its not just the blood, the flies. The eyes. They stare. They're clouded over now. Getting a little... wrinkly? Disgusting. She's... you know. Rigor mortis or whatever comes after that. Joints contorted into those weird poses. The skin? Oh lord. Bruising, discoloration. Swelling. I know its her, but... that ring? Its cutting into the dead skin on her finger. With everything else, that was the most grotesque to me, somehow.
However long I sat there, shocked? Is how long I sat there. Eventually, I crawled away, slowly. Like someone drugged up. Though I'm sober as a judge. I pulled my sweatpants back on. I got to my cell phone, I felt up and pulled it down to me. I opened it, and I never have to dial 911. That's for people that live in the world of silly shit, not me. That's me now.
My voice is low, even. Very slow. I'm in shock. Barely above a whisper.
"911, what is the nature of your emergency."
"Its my wife."
"What is the emergency, sir? Does she require medical attention? Sir. Answer me."
"My wife? Dead."
"Sir? Are you sure she's dead? Sir... I need you to check if she's breathing. Use a mirror or anything made of glass if you have to..."
"She's not breathing. She's dead."
"Sir? I'm sending the ambulance. I'm sending the police. Sir? What is your address where this happened. Sir?"
"I don't... know..."
Like an idiot, I described the street by landmarks, which alley, which house visually. I'm not functioning. I have her address right here on my phone if I need it to send something by internet mail order to her house. I don't even realize that.
Now I sat there. On the floor at my desk in the guest bedroom. I don't know how long, but I heard yelling and pounding at the door. Its like it came from far away. Eventually? I heard glass breaking and more yelling. Cops in uniform came pouring in with their guns ready. I just looked up at them, and pointed towards the bathroom door, around the corner. Then? I dropped my hand in my lap and went back to just sitting there. Out of it.
When you're in shock and out of it like that? People just sort of show up on you. You look up, there's men in uniforms. Next time you look up? More of them. Then people in suits. Another time? There's ambulance people milling around. Its like its no longer your house. Her house? Not anymore, she's gone. More my house now, but I'm not in charge of anything. Not even myself, let alone the house. These people just march around. Look at anything and everything they feel like.
They pick stuff up, they put stuff down. Any closet, any drawer. And the thing that registered? These people aren't all freaked like I am. No, they do this for a living. They've seen this before. These are the drunken chimpanzee wranglers. If they have to net a naked sweating animal of a man chimping out on adrenaline and PCP? Probably done it before. Or? They know which retard wrangler to call for that particular feature.
You hear snippets of conversations. Talking glib about the scene. You hear the gallows humor, then someone gives a shush or points at you. But it happens again. Any apologies? Technically they apologized, but you wouldn't accept it from a kid. You'd tell the kid to apologize and mean it this time. You can't. Its their house now. That's what the one guy in the suit said. This is my scene now. I'm in charge.
Guess she left him everything in her will. Did I even get anything?
My Boo Boo Monkey, my Rain. Got called "floater" more than anything else. You hear comments. Looks like she's been simmering for a couple days, thank god its winter. They're trying to guesstimate out loud how long. By fly activity, by the little spider I saw.
People came and tried to talk to me. I can't talk. Not much. I just mumble and point. I remember one guy saying "that's all an act, I seen this shit before". On TV? Some warm and caring female, puts her arms around your shoulder, you get a blanket. You get led like its your mom and you stubbed your toe as a toddler. Nope. You just sit wherever you were when they found you, if you can't move yourself.
When you finally can move? You can't go in there. I have to go to the bathroom. No one does anything, I guess I'm expected to piss or shit myself. They go and come back. They're allowed to go and get coffee and donuts, people hand the coffee out like its a goddamn party. Donuts on the front porch, don't contaminate "my scene". It should be "his scene", referencing me as the homeowner now or at least until its decided who owns shit now. But it ain't. Donuts are outside so you don't get crumbs around. Coffee is allowed, if they trust you're "not a cherry" and won't spill it.
I finally puked in what was I think of as "my" little desk wastebasket. I got chided and practically scolded. I just looked up at the guy complaining, and just said the bathroom is off limits, the hell you expect, asshole. I'm not allowed in the bathroom. I can't realistically stand up without falling over. I'm not allowed to leave, either. I pissed myself on the floor. Some guy in a suit pointed and laughed.
Oh. I can wiggle around on the floor now, I can form short choppy sentences. I get quizzed by multiple guys in suits now. One guy? Bends down and snaps his fingers in my face. Hey, focus. What time was it, when you killed her, huh? I don't even realize he's trying to use my shock I don't even know I'm in, to try to get me to say something bad like that. Someone else said something to him. They led him out. I heard someone say "Oh, fuck that. You know the rule. The husband did it. The husband didn't do it? The husband did it."
Now more finger snapping. More commands as if to a toddler, to pay attention. Times. Dates. When did you last see her. When did you last talk to her. In person, on the phone. Last text? What was this or that conversation about. Were you two having problems? Every husband and wife has problems. You have to tell me about them.
Then, ambulance people are declaring they need to take me to the hospital. I'm clearly in shock. I just nodded yes. Guy in a suit said no. If I have no injuries? I'm fine. This is his house now. Me? I have no agency. I'm just a toddler. This suit makes all decisions loco parentis on my behalf.
I can't barely mumble and point in this state. They keep trying. I can't even tell you how long, but this goes on a long while. Finally, I heard a strange voice. Some female. I can hear arguing. She reminds me of my... well, her. The tone of voice. Her attitude increased.
I got walked downstairs carefully. She's not being talked over by the men in uniforms and suits.
"I know him! I work with her! That? Is his fiancee! The fuck is even wrong with you? He's in shock! He needs to go to the hospital! Look at him!"
Guy's a smart ass.
"He's over 18. He didn't request that."
She's had it.
"Fuck you. Is he under arrest?"
Asshole suit raised his hands, shrugged. Could be, or not. Early in the day yet, you know.
"Its a yes no question, ass. And if you don't answer me? That's a no."
"And who the fuck do you think you are, lady? You think because you work with someone, you just come marching into my scene, and decide who goes and who stays? It don't work like that."
"Actually? It works exactly like that. If he's not under arrest right now? I'm taking him to the hospital."
"I haven't decided what's going on yet."
"I'm sorry. I don't give a shit what your schedule is. If he's not under arrest at this very moment? I'm taking him to the hospital. He's in shock! He's white as a ghost! Look at him!"
"I didn't hear him say anything, lady. Like I said, he's over 18. I don't get what authority you're claiming here."
She bent down, and I finally got the arm around the shoulders, the warm caring TV thing.
"Bill. Do you want to go to the hospital? Get looked at. See if you're all right."
I nodded after being confused. No one else asks my opinion on anything. This is new. She's familiar, but I don't recognize her.
"And, there we go. If you don't read him his rights and slap cuffs on him? I'm taking him to the hospital. Did you read him his rights before you started questioning him? I could hear someone all but telling him to say stuff. You know you're not allowed to get a statement out of someone in this state."
"Aw, he's not under arrest. Didn't need to read him his rights."
"Really? Not under arrest. Heard you say it."
She got me up and led me out and put me in a car. Drove me to the hospital. Someone gave me a shot, and I laid down on the bed after everything seemed like looking through a pane of glass but its raining so everything's moving and blurry from the water beading and running. Raining. Walking in the rain.
I don't know how long I was asleep. I came around slowly. I was groggy. Female voice talking on a phone.
"Yeah. I am his lawyer for right now."
"Really. So, he's not under arrest."
"Well, actually? I do speak for him. When you represent someone? Yeah, you speak for them."
"Oh. Sounds like a personal problem to me. How about this. How about you? Do your job. Me? I'll do mine. What do you think about that."
"Huh? You're joking, right?"
"Oh. I thought you were making a funny. If he's not under arrest? He doesn't have to speak to you."
"No. He doesn't. If you even remotely wondered? If you had the slightest thing. You'd have him down at the station."
"Oh. Another personal problem, on your part."
"So? Investigate your little heart out. No one's stopping you. But trying to force my client to talk to you, when I told you no? Fuck that. And if he does speak to you? I'll be right there."
"Actually? That's exactly how that works. You think I'm letting my friend from work, her fiancee? You think I'll let you duct tape a pen in his hand, and move his hand for him to sign whatever you put in front of him like a two year old? You're smoking crack."
"I'm sorry. All I heard was blah blah blah. No warrant? No appearance at the station. Period."
"Sure. You can send anyone here? But I'll tell them the same thing I just told you. Waste your time if you want. About all you're good for, I guess."
"What? Yeah I do have an attitude. Its called making decisions for my client. That's how I keep from getting disbarred."
"Really? That's fascinating. He's not under arrest. And you're issuing, what. Court orders to limit his free travel? I thought you were a detective sergeant. Do you moonlight as his honor, too? What bench do you sit on."
"Yeah, I am a smart ass. Thanks for noticing."
"I'll give it to you straight. When, or if? He feels like talking to you? Then. When I feel he can make a logical decision on his own? I'll think about it. But... don't call me. I'll call you. We straight on that? I'll file paper on your ass if you try any sneaky bullshit. I'm not intimidated."
"Yeah? Fuck you and have a nice day too, sergeant."
"Huh?"
"Look. I know all I need to know. I heard it was bad in the bathroom. Him? He doesn't have a drop of blood on him. You seriously want to play this game? Fine. Send someone down, you can have all his clothes. I'll bring him something to wear out of the hospital."
"Oh. You should have done that, when you had him on scene for hours. Instead of wasting your time trying to get a cat to talk to you and say what you want."
"Yes. I allow you to send someone. One person. Not an army invading the hospital room. One worker, pick any one you want. No questions. You want hair, fingerprints, swabs? Fine."
"Oh. You don't like me being polite and cooperating? You rather I make you get a court order?"
"Oh. Now, we talk all polite. What?"
"Now, we want to be polite... and professional? Wow. What a swell change of heart you just had. I don't know what you think you're going to do with his prints and hair and everything else."
"Put him at the murder scene? Do you hear yourself when you speak? Or... do you just read cue cards. He lives there when he comes into the city. Its his fiancee. I'm sure there's hair, and fibers, and prints... probably DNA all over the bedrooms, too. Its what happens when someone lives there on the weekends."
"What? Don't act all dramatic. You didn't put him at the scene. He lived there. I was told, he called 911."
"I meant what I said. One person. No questions. I'll give you the clothes, and you can take samples, if its done nice and polite. And remember. That might be your... scene? This is a hospital. The doctor is in charge here. Not you. Polite, no questions. Or you can fuck off back to whatever shit-hole office you work out of."
"Great. Call the DA. Give him a blowjob after dinner and drinks, if its your kind of thing. I try not to judge. DA has a law degree too. Maybe you'll take his word for it, when he explains people's rights to you."
"Oh, fuck off. You seriously think I'm dumb enough to fall for the whole... he's not under arrest, so he doesn't have rights until I give them to him... bullshit lines."
"There. That's better. And I meant what I said. No statements. No questioning. If. Not when? If... he feels like talking to you, to try to help you? Maybe. And I'll be there. Because we both know, that if you had one scrap of anything? He'd be at the station."
"What? He's not even a witness! He just found the remains. He called 911. His job? Ended right then and there. Unless? He feels like it. When he's better."
"Hmm. No, I don't want to do lunch and talk about it. I make enough to pay for my own lunch, but thanks for the offer."
"Yeah, I'm a bitch. You? You're an asshole. So ain't we both content. Send your forensics tech over at your convenience. And I'm not waiting like I'm not allowed to leave the hospital until they get here. This is a hospital, not a scene, or a jail, or a police station. That tech better get here, while the getting is good. While I'm still in the mood."
"Well? Get a court order. I'd like to see it. You can't make him a person of interest? Much less a suspect."
"Yeah. I'm daring you. Go on. But let me tell you how the preliminary will go. Like I'm reading the minutes. Observation. Found the decedent, he called it in. Conclusion? I'm putting him under arrest. And when they ask you to present your evidence... what are you going to hand them. Calling 911 to report a body, is reasonable and articulated suspicion? Try it. And even if you do manage to get a warrant? Do you plan on rubber hosing him, or using thumbscrews. Cause there's no statements, no interrogation. And anything you claim you heard out of someone who can't stand up in shock? Well... like I said. I dare you."
"Really? Yeah. You can personally tell the DA? I said, and I quote. Fuck off. I don't work for the DA. Neither does my client."
I was technically awake, but in twilight as if falling asleep or waking up still half dreaming. Her pissed demeanor instantly changed when she got off the cell call.
"Hi, Bill. I know you're still groggy. From the shot. You want to get some more rest? Or..."
"I know you."
"Yes, Bill. I see your fiancee at work, we have lunch all the time. You do know we've had lunch before, right?"
"I know, I know you. Lunch? If you say so."
"You're coming around, but not all the way yet. I've seen people in shock like you before. Its fine. I think I'll know when you're really awake again."
"Okay."
"Bill. Do you allow me to keep representing you? Just until you're awake all the way. Then, you can decide."
Sitting on the floor, getting scolded for puking. Pissing my pants while everyone else is allowed to go out and back in, use some bathroom somewhere. Or this way. Nap time, and sweet talk. Gee. What a stump-er which way I'm leaning on this one.
"I didn't kill her..."
I'm fading off. Everything's watery again.
"I know, Bill. But the investigators were all over you like hyenas on a carcass. We were friends. Not on my watch."
"Yes."
"Yes..."
"Rep. Represent me. Until I wake up."
"I will."
"Am I allowed to go back to sleep?"
She smiled.
"Yes. As long as you want."
Either the shock, or that shot, or both I suppose. Took back over. My eyes opened and nothing registered, as if in a fever dream. I had things being dragged under my fingernails. Stuff rubbed on and back off of me. Forensic samples. I felt all my clothes being tugged off, and a hospital gown being helped onto me. Then? Nothing. I floated away.
Instead of walking in the rain? I floated in the rain.