Chapter 13 - Promise
When I can, I spend a lot of time alone. I always was like that anyways, but after experiencing that bathroom? I spend more time alone than ever. I can make some of the symptoms of my anguish go away temporarily, with the strong antidepressant shot. And let me tell you, its a unique situation to live under.
I try to watch drinking, because its just too damn obvious the pitfall there. I'm in grief, booze is limitless. I like to go for walks and smoke a puff of pot and walk around in the slight foggy haze. Its more effective than drinking. It doesn't involve repeated vomiting. There's no hangover.
I used to enjoy my intellectual pursuits, but they really can't do much beyond take up my time now. I tried one night to put my thoughts down in a poetic or lyrical fashion. It was just for me, so it only had to say what I wanted. And I could code it as well for me, too. So only I knew for sure exactly what it meant.
told you when I met
you know I won't forget
to remember why the time has slipped away
don't know where you've gotten
to you'll never be forgotten
I promised you, I'll make it there some day
sooner or later
so I put pen to paper
wrote out things that make most people cry
its been quite a while now
but you still make me smile somehow
just a thought and I don't have to try
it hurts to say good bye, to
things that make me cry, new
people places things they come and go
But I know where I'm going
to when the wind stops blowing
so I can make it there before they say
to put it all behind me
I'll keep it all inside me
so promise me I'll make it there some day
so I can hear my name begin
to make you feel the same again
just turn around and see the reason why
it took a little time to
make this promise come true
gets a little closer every day
I know you feel the same, oh
days you make it rain so
I can taste, teardrops filled with pain, try
to keep them all inside me
can't put it all behind me gets
used to write down things to make them cry
cause I know where you've gotten to
a promise not forgotten who
went away to live inside the rain
the thunder calls my name to
come see you in the rain to
feel the tears you cry turn into rain, to
finally keep my promise to
come and be beside you
I promised you I'd make it here someday
It made me feel better, if no one else. Alone, I could stew in my anguish and pour it out in little dribbles. To say I was dependent on that shot of emotional suppressant? That was some understatement there. There was absolutely no way I could function without it.
I felt like a drug addict, when shooting up. I knew I needed something, I knew what it was and how to shoot it. It made the sickness, the hurt go away. Again, not so much unlike a needle addict that I was thrilled to be in the condition in the first place. Maybe its a rational decision for them, too. Who knows. I know its only rational for me, the car wreck style emotional pain I'm taking the edge off of.
I pretend like nothing's changed, but I know it has. My heart has become some ball of ice, when I think about what was done to me and her. If I can figure out anything at all about who what where when why, I quite simply have to do it. Its beyond a normal moral imperative.
So. There's a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker, huh? I don't know about the butcher part, but the baker part? I'm an intellectual. Plotting with free form strategy is a specialty of mine in computer programming and in other pursuits. I can definitely be a baker. If I found myself willing or even able to do butcher work? I could lay claim to being a candlestick maker.
The investigator seemed to be willing to help me whether he was working or not. How much of that was his own personal gumption, and how much was rubbed off from work? I couldn't say. But as a resource, he was invaluable. He obviously had some kind of attachment to my lawyer. Maybe it was simple physical or emotional desire, and she liked girls that way. Maybe he actually respected her, or she was a prize to associate with in the office in some fashion. No telling, really. But they had that sense of easy familiarity with each other, that only comes from years of being allies.
I felt she used her connections for my benefit. Indeed, she seemed above board on her intentions. It was a feather in her cap to sniff out a good client, and demonstrate the firm's capabilities. They have to do their fair assigned share of pro bono free work around town. What a prosecutor can do there? Wait them out. They look at it as a lame duck, and they use their body weight to swing as good a deal as they figure they can squeeze for.
But she said from the get go, it was because my girlfriend had been her friend. They went through law school together, then they by chance ran across each other professionally in the real world. It was her friend, she could help, if it made her look good so be it. Helping me seemed to be just part and parcel of the package deal.
We were in a familiar position. Her couch. Next to each other, but not too close. We weren't romantic. Like two guys sharing a drink and the couch.
"So. Can we talk about your case. Where its at. Where its going."
"Sure."
"Your case. It was personal to me, I told you that. I made it official at work, it was just the best way I could get resources. Your official, open case status at work? Closing predictably. The longer you don't get prosecuted? The colder your case gets. That's officially, anyways."
"Is there an unofficially, then."
"Isn't there always? I am a lawyer. I did handle the case. It is in my file. Lawyers, good ones, anyways? Keep all their files. They touch a case, they have hands on documentation on it. I kept an official record, like I should. I colored it in? So it blends in. Officially."
"And unofficially."
She shrugged.
"Told you. She was my friend. I'm allowed to have one pet peeve, and this is it. Do you wonder what that gets you, your case moving steadily to unofficial, and its my pet peeve."
"Sure."
"Anything I can. The investigators get assigned around. I asked for that one, though. And I got him assigned. I've used him before, I like him. He's thorough. We're work friends. He likes working my cases, and I like him working them. We both have to work with people, and we prefer each other's company at work. So. He's a friend, as well as a resource. I have access to him, that gives you access. Through me."
"Wow. I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing, then. He has fun on a big puzzle. I figure, let him go. See if he can track anything down."
"Thanks."
"Not a problem. I noticed we haven't mentioned my girlfriend much lately."
I winced.
"Sorry about that one."
"No. You didn't do anything. If you're curious?"
"If you want to."
"She got out of hand. She needed trimmed up. I'm trimming her up as we speak. We still talk? I just told her she's not allowed over, until I forgive her."
"Power play?"
She shrugged.
"Some, maybe. Sure. There's power to be negotiated in any relationship. I'll negotiate aggressively, and get more of it. Don't sweat it."
"I appreciate it."
She smiled and leaned over and patted my knee affectionately.
"Its fine. We were law school buddies for four years. And we were lunch buddies. That counts for something, in my book. And if I liked her a little more than was strictly appropriate? Oh well. But, you get any resource I can get that you think will help."
"Am I being cut loose?"
"No. You can go anytime you want, I mean feel free. Not being rude? I think of you like I found a baby bird with a broken wing, and I got it flapping again. Its a good feeling. So. Can we talk about your long term prospects? I'm your lawyer, you know. They don't call us counselors for nothing."
She was confident and sure of herself in a gentle way, steering conversation adroitly to where she wanted it to go.
"Lawyers, deliberately let other lawyers handle each other's routine paperwork and filing. I did hers."
"Okay."
"Among other things? Her will and now her estate. A man in my position, is named the executor of the will. I'm properly known as an executrix. You haven't mentioned it once. I hinted at it before, I thought. You never brought it up."
"What's to bring up. I'm sure her family gets everything. She was big on family."
"Are you sure about that, are you."
"What do you mean."
"When she was coming around to... your new thing with her? She changed her will, too. People change their will now and again. Hers was easy. She names a sole inheritor. If she changes that sole inheritance? Its just a name change to me."
"Hmm. I bet... her nephew. She doted on him, really. It would make sense."
"You? Are the sole inheritor."
"I never would have thought."
"So. You've been on interviews, back at the house. You've met there with me. You can keep it, you can live there, you can sell it, you can rent it out. You... could bulldoze it and probably get a profitable long term private parking lot out of it. You don't have to choose now. Just telling you."
"You bring it up. You want my thoughts on the house?"
"Sure. I'm your lawyer. I perform your will. I need to know what your wishes are, so I can act on them."
"Is it painful, to go there? Yes. Very. But... if you can imagine it. I couldn't stand to bear to part with one of her T shirts. So her house? Make it like a shrine. I don't know if that's good for... therapy? But... how I'm leaning right now. Feel free to advise me, you having experience with people in circumstances like this. I don't."
"People go different ways. Some people sell and auction off everything. Fresh start. Yeah, some people will leave their kid's room be a sort of a shrine. You can walk in twenty years later, and its just like they left it. So, I could see you going either way with it."
"Wow. I never wanted to live in the city. Least of all? This city. I learned to enjoy coming out and staying, though. I have a bunch of little shops I like to hit when I'm here. The city, though? That was all her doing. Not mine."
"She left a checking and savings account. Her accounts at work? Retirement, that stuff. She has her own personal paperwork on stuff like that. Some storage, and... a couple safe deposit boxes. Of course I'll help you go through everything, slowly. If you decide to sell or rent? I'm right at the moment, in temporary ownership as the executrix. I can leave the will open as long as I want, for legitimate purposes. Or in this case, because of a sole inheritance structure."
"Meaning, for those of us that don't speak lawyer... what."
"If you did want to sell or rent? Now's the time to set it up right. You... could do a small corporation. Pay yourself, protect it that way. Its a sound strategy, the paper corporation game. And, me and your girlfriend? In law school. Do you know what the thing about a corporate law degree is."
"I know she says it, like... not a law degree, she always says corporate law legal degree. What gives."
She sipped her neutral Merlot.
"At the bottom of the rung, is simply an attorney. Least number of classes, the streamlined approach. Four years, in and out, you get your ranking and thanks for coming out. That's your basic family attorney. There's other steps to take, and they contain everything below them, as well as what that step adds. Are you following me?"
"Yes."
"At the top rung? That's corporate law, as a degree. It includes all other forms of practicing as an attorney or lawyer, automatically. As well as corporate paperwork. We draft paperwork like nobody's business. We obviously work for big companies on legal teams or running a legal team. As personal attorneys? We're uniquely qualified to cater to the all in one needs of multi-millionaires, for instance. Senators, businessmen. Like that."
"Or the daughter of one of those important businessmen."
"Sure. You curious at all, about your inheritance. While not exactly a happy time? I generally get a lot more mood lift out of people coming to realize they just got a big inheritance."
"What can I say. I never knew about that, anyways. And then, I just want her back. No amount of anything, gives me that. Any money and possessions I get out of her being gone? Its a poor substitute."
"I understand. And I gotta say, I think its noble. But. In the interest of completeness, or as we lawyers call it... due diligence? Due diligence won't be satisfied on my part, until I can give you a rough explanation of what you inherited."
"If it will make your job easier? Shoot for the moon. I'm freshly shot up with I can take it juice."
"Checking and savings accounts are always prime features of any estate. As are liquid assets physically located about and around. Checking is something like twenty-three thousand. Savings is sixty-five thousand. 88 thousand roughly, give or take a little. That's just cash. Personal property is entire in the case of sole inheritance. You walk through any house, rented space. You point at it? Its legally yours by default."
"You know all I'm mainly interested in, up front?"
"What."
"Her ring. The ring, is a big deal to any couple, but... we had more. Didn't we. The drama over wearing it. And, she was wearing it already. Thinking about wearing it for me finally, all around. Let me notice for myself."
"Right. I already got you your real wallet. Here. In this box? Is your fiancee's engagement ring. Forensics cleaned it when they were done. Its too small to be of any real further forensic use. Yes, its been cleaned. Since I'm your lawyer legally, even if I'm not paid? Full disclosure. You are not permitted to ever divulge this information publicly? But, the police got a sample off of the ring. A partial DNA profile. Not hers. Not yours. A partial DNA is obviously not as good as a full DNA workup. That's where you get your dozens of billions to one odds from. This? Is less. But..."
"But."
"But... its overboard for ruling out any suspects. If the theory is, that the partial DNA profile salvaged off of the ring might have been inflicted in the struggle that led to her death, then... any potential suspect that matched the partial profile perfectly? Would be a figure of merit. Because I have a corporate law degree, I've had classes on DNA. We actually take our own DNA, for a class. We're given access to a large pool of available DNA profiles. If we cut the 23 DNA measurements down to the partial's number of DNA readings... as little as twenty on a partial? Starts generating dozens of so-called possible matches."
"But... while not enough to convict in a court of law... if a suspect matched, then..."
"You can go into court with a lot of evidence and fact. What they call an airtight case. No such thing, but, the odds? Yeah. Other times? The only suspect that pans out, and you can't rule them out. You just give what you have, to the jury. Here. This? Is why I think I'm well on my way, to proving that person sitting right there, did X."
"So. How do you feel... personally, lets say. If the partial DNA was used to rule suspects out, that's perfect."
"Definitely. I like to be as scientific as I can. I have no proof the partial DNA was the result of the struggle? It could be. Its worth entertaining that notion."
I shrugged.
"And if we got a match? Partial, but still."
She sighed.
"Professionally? Its legally consistent with... thing X. Its not proof positive. Do you wonder what the problem I have with the phrase... its consistent with, thing X."
"You'll tell me, maybe."
"I might. Here. Classic example. Textbook, college law class material here."
"Okay. I like getting an expert opinion."
"Well. The idea that the defendant dropped the knife there at the murder scene? Is consistent with the prosecution's case that the defendant is guilty of murder. And? It sounds good. Really good, even. It sways the jury, if you don't explain it properly."
I thought about it. Mulled it, wagged my head and made the shrug face.
"Does sound good."
She smiled.
"It sounds better than it really is. It just means, it could have happened that way. No reason it wasn't possible. But, the knife at the murder scene, with no prints on it or any other evidence to tie it to my defendant client? Well, its also perfectly consistent with... aliens dropped that knife there. Its consistent with almost anything you can dream up. It sounds better than it really is. Logically? Its shit."
"And privately, the partial DNA match..."
"Privately? I like excluding suspects. Now. While your case is still semi-open?"
"Yes."
"Acting as your lawyer. I privately made copies of things. But, a suspect partial match? Honestly, I think that would be a strange coincidence. A punch, a slap. She could even have her hands up, being defensive? The suspect's hand could impact that ring. There's blood anyways, not like he'd notice. And I'm assuming its a he. Depending on how important that person might or might not be? That partial matched perfect. Lets just say that would be a strange coincidence. Now. In college law class, on DNA? I had my own profile starting the class out. We did things. Like scrape a boyfriend or girlfriend with the ring we harvested our own DNA off of. Just skin cells and sweat will get you a decent partial. Enough you order the test, and you get a second incomplete sample."
"Not good enough for a murder conviction."
"In layman's terms... its not a DNA match, its a partial DNA match. There's twenty-three DNA markers, on and off each one. Obviously, less than five is worthless. We're talking millions of hits on big databases, representative of the odds in the general population. Equally obviously? When I got 21 out of 23 on my own scrape my ring off the sweaty arm trick, to get a new sample... what are the odds, I ask you that. What are the odds that my partial scrape sample was 21 out of 23 markers matched up. That? Is a nice coincidence. That's a jury swaying device."
"Your law degree? Was... very thorough. I remember such thoroughness previously through my fiancee. I can tell you went to law school together for four years, both got corporate law degrees, and lived happily ever after."
She smiled and sighed and sipped all at once.
"We paired up on day one. You walk in a big room, that's your peer group inducted with you. They tell you. Look to the right of you, look to the left of you. Two of you? Won't be here four years later. Me and her? We were both going corporate law, so... yeah. We were buddies. We took all the same classes, and we both graduated 4 years later."
I smiled, as best I was able. The happy shots of the happy juice, saw to that.
"Tell me something nice about her. From law school."
"Hmm. She was the library bunny lady."
"My girlfriend was the bunny lady?"
"She had a pet rabbit, didn't she? So yeah. She had this spoiled pet bunny that she took everywhere with her."
I smiled. I remembered the bunny.
"This bunny rabbit? Me and her were night time library patrons for law school. No better place to study, you can quote and cite the books while they're right there. I'm telling you, she was a sweet girl, and the librarians liked her. And this spoiled pet bunny? Had the run of the Duquesne law school law library, which is open twenty-four seven, 365. You're in law school? 24 7 law library access."
I smiled more. That was sweet.
"Bunny had the run of the law library, after dark, huh."
"The run of it? Perish the thought. It ran around, rubbing on the worker's legs there, and they saved little tidbits from breakfast, lunch and dinner. Little rabbit treats."
I chuckled. Yeah. This was my girl. An innocent sweetness, just like that.
"I remember the rabbit in question. That was her high school pet rabbit. Something happened to him, later on. I don't remember the particulars. Just that it looked like the safe bet was that he was... food now. I remember they found fur in the pen where he was out, enjoying a spring day."
She made a sour face.
"Aw. I remember that bunny. You know more about what happened to him, than I do."
I shrugged.
"She said he was in his secure pen, that he liked. They... found his fur spread around, and he was gone. They speculated. Farm property. Hawk? Possibilities. Probably some predator, best anyone could guess."
"Poor guy."
I nodded my head.
"So. As the bunny lady's boyfriend, I know more of the ongoing bunny story."
"Oh. Share."
"All right. Its sappy, but sweet."
"Go on already..."
"Okay. Her bunny went to... little bunny heaven. She's sad. Eventually, she wants another bunny. She goes and looks at the pet bunnies? Can't commit to one. Apparently, she became the object of some small amusement to the girls that worked at the bunny part of the store. She was the lady that played with all the bunnies, liked them, but never got one. So? I asked permission to buy her? A new bunny."
She smiled broader now.
"So. You did. What bunny did you get."
"We went together. She couldn't pick one. They were in a big cage, packed in."
"But. You two did pick. Right?"
I smiled, that was a sweet memory.
"Yeah. See, the baby rabbits were all running as one big pack. They throw food in, water bottles? They all push and shove and compete. I watched. There was this little one. He tried? He was little and sweet, though. The little underdog bunny. He was always pushed last. We had him coming up and getting attention through the cage. We got to take him out and play with him."
"Did he try to run around?"
"No. He... just sat there. All happy we're giving him time. They said it was a boy. No pushing and shoving, he's getting attention and treats, just sitting there."
"Is that the bunny you got?"
I smiled, I nodded. Happy memories? So rare now. Delectable, though. All I have left, that keeps me human.
"Are you interested in how strong your partial DNA is?"
"You said your law school test, came up 21 out of 23, that there was DNA contact exchanged when that ring brushed up against them. That was the good example, I guess. Five was shit. On a scale from five to twenty three then... survey says..."
"Twenty. Twenty out of twenty-three? Pretty rare. Now, they had contact possibly with the victim. So... twenty out of twenty-one, on my own personal sliding scale. Not too shabby. Very likely that ring brushed up against someone matching that profile, and not long before her death. My ring scrape? Barely two or three after 24 hours degrading. But twenty-one, when fresh and bagged and tagged on the spot."
"Interesting. You scraped and bagged and tagged the evidence, and mailed it to the lab. Here, we wait a couple days... and we get twenty out of twenty-one, on your own personal sliding scale."
She shrugged and nodded.
"Definitely. I know I scraped that person with that ring gently? And I got twenty one out of twenty three by being careful. You telling me this person contributing the ring DNA... they're not close enough to get grazed with that ring. Just like my test."
I grinned. I calculated on my smart phone. Tapping digits.
"The benefit of two mathematics and computer science degrees gets me... twenty out of twenty-three? Is... 86.9 percent."
She waved her hand dismissively, to illustrate.
"Time of death? Couple days. Still twenty out of twenty-one. That person? They were close enough, to get a lab grade sample that was strong enough to degrade for three days into a twenty. Not enough for murder one, not like we didn't have prosecution classes in law school, too. Corporate, covers all others. Prosecution is one of those things covered underneath it. My advice? Hmm. Enough for a murder one conviction, a slam dunk. No. But? Not far behind, either. Those billions to one? Become millions. I brushed that ring myself, and tested it. This person, three days later? They... were there in my mind."
"What I was thinking. What are your thoughts. On... what to do if we find anything."
"Honest Indian? The higher up the food chain, politically you go. The higher standard of proof you run into. Is it right? No. But, there it is all the same. My investigator? Likes his hunch about the governor's chief of security."
I raised my hand, and we both chuckled at the gesture.
"Question. How hard is it to get tests run on suspects. For elimination matches."
"Well? Investigator can usually get one. He calls it, social engineering. The higher the food chain you go up, though... the harder access gets. Right out of his reach, is governor and his governor's top security aide. He said he can get the others. You would be surprised how people can enjoy a nice expensive dinner or drinks, when you suggest it. Hey. I have an expense account. You know what? Lets use it."
"To get DNA? Sneaky."
"A couple hundred here, a couple hundred there. You could afford it. You have 88 thousand to start with, with lots more in other ways. If I cost nothing, and my investigator costs nothing. You could afford your own investigation. If you wanted to."
"I guess I would want that. And how far would your... discretion. As my lawyer. How far would it go."
"How do you mean it, then."
"Not saying I would. But, if I did. Some kind of... revenge. If I didn't tell you, and it just happened. Your client is just as guilty or innocent, you're just representing them."
"Revenge. Hmm. Tell you something, and I mean off the reservation, here. She was my friend? I understand revenge, just from that. You. The fiancee. I can't imagine that feeling. None of my business, really. But, if you share."
I shrugged.
"Happy shots? Keep me going."
"At least there's something to try to help manage it. In the old days, the phrase was a nervous breakdown. Perhaps you can understand how they named it."
I nodded along. I sure did.
"Legally. What you don't tell me? I can't be asked to testify about what we didn't talk about. If, in the future, you were ever charged with a revenge motive, for instance? I might be willing to present it as persuasively as I possibly could manage to. If I'm your lawyer? It doesn't matter what you do. Its about how I best handle what shakes out of it. What I don't know, can't harm me. All lawyers have had guilty clients before. Fact of life."
"But... you can help me try to find..."
"I can help you find. Too far up the food chain, starting at just about... senator and congress critter level? I need social engineering to steal the DNA sample. I can help you try to find. What you do with it, privately? Your business."
"And your pet investigator?"
"Him. He, isn't an officer of the court. I am. Whatever private conversations he had or held, were entirely of his own making. His opinions, what not. Up to you and him. I asked him, to draw up a contingency plan. Rough sketch, obviously. Getting or social engineering? The governor's hair, the aide's hair. He said it was possible. He'd think about trying to arrange it."
"Seriously."
"Sure. Investigators, are trained to think in terms of what little operation could they possibly run, to get what they want. If the client is willing to meet that price tag, then the operation is a possible go. I asked for a ballpark quality operation. He said? Probably a couple thousand. So, I gave him parameters, we touched base. He's going to come up with a theory, to socially engineer the gov and his little boyfriend."
"A proposal?"
"Hmm. More or less, yeah. My investigator? He's had lunch with her. Not as often as me alone? But he's met her."
I grinned.
"How does he describe her."
"Hmm. He said? She had a sweet streak. A real, babe in the woods quality about her. Girl next door in the country type."
"Yeah. That was her."
My lawyer ran her finger around the Merlot glass rim of the stemware she was sipping out of, with me. Then she shared more.
"I thought I grew up country? Because my dad was like her dad. Mister important. Kids grow up in the country, so they get raised right. But her? She actually lived the life of a tomboy farmhand. She had a little barn, and chores. A couple animals to care for. I was just what they call a... dirt princess. A mud cricket, whatever colorful euphemism they come up with to say got lucky with a country girl out in the sticks."
I grinned.
"So? Tell me one. That surprised you."
"Well. She described? Cutting meat up, it was a normal farm activity. I asked about the chicken? She said you get a deal on a nice healthy hen? That's your lowest cost to go from bird to roasting pot. She said it was basically the same as a fish. Cut the head off, gut it. Clean it. You dunk it with thongs in boiling water for a minute? You can pull the feathers clean. Bang. Bird from the store. Or, you cut it up. Into parts."
I nodded and agreed.
"That was her. I was on the telephone with her once, and she saw a groundhog out the window. I heard a shot. I asked if she got it, she said she'll get to check later and see."
"So. What were you thinking about dinner. My turn to cook. What do you want."
I rolled my eyes.
"You ask me? I like noodles."
"Okay. What kind of noodles, do you want."
"The buttered noodles. Salt and butter, and... whatever green shit you sprinkle on them is good."
"That's what you want, then. Buttered salted noodles. I'm guessing you liked the egg noodles. Call that a hunch. Now, you do realize that my pay at work is a little competitive. I'm looking to land full partner one day, so go figure I have a shot."
"What's this got to do, with me and noodles?"
She smiled.
"I'm pointing out, that you're just like her. I tell you anything, I actually get top pay for being a lawyer at my place at my firm. You ask for... noodles. You want butter and salt and greens sprinkled over egg noodles. You want a roast, to go with that? You're asking me for a side dish, here. Spend my dinner budget a little, would you."
"What. You asked. Do you want to put something on the noodles, then. Make the side dish into a meal."
She grinned.
"Now you're talking. We'll hit the store, and I'll get you the biggest box or bag of egg noodles, the good ones, the yellow ones. I have a big bag here, already. More than one. No rush. I was thinking... meat. Meatballs, maybe."
I nodded along.
"Meatballs could work. I still get my noodles though, right?"
"Whole pot. Yours. This? This, is something on the side or to put over that. If you so chose to. Meatballs, a little gravy. Can I add something?"
I did a faux southern voice, to tease her.
"You need my permission? Fine. You have my leave, to suppose about food arrangements, then."
"How about, gravy and meatballs. Something to pour over your noodles. I'll make some rice, to pour over rice and noodles with the aforementioned gravy and meatballs. I'm suggesting? I add Alfredo sauce as another option."
"Alfredo, cheesy?"
"There another kind? But yeah. Maybe some chicken in it."
"Its your kitchen. If you want chicken? Make it a chicken theme. I still get my pot of noodles. But, if you want to whip up cream of chicken to go over that? There. How's that."
She nodded.
"That works. Initial negotiations on dinner? Completed."
"I'm sorry you lost your girlfriend, temporarily or whatever."
"Think nothing of it. She needs this. I was so embarrassed. You have to believe me, if I thought she'd lock you up like that, I'd never have left her alone with you..."
I waved my hand.
"Its fine. She did it, not you. Your deal with her afterwards? That's your affair. Sorry it happened though."
"Well. It would have just happened to the next male client I had, that's all. Her performance? Was coming, regardless. Okay. Cream of chicken, is fine. I have my thing down pat. Butter over it rubbed and rolled in it. Then? Salt, pepper, and a nice touch of lemon pepper. I have shredded chicken, by the pound. I do stir fry, too. Creamy Alfredo, on the side with the treated shredded chicken. Good for noodles, rice, both... or whatever."
"Meal, then?"
She pronounced it.
"Meal. And, since we don't have to risk a drive to the store tonight? We can have another glass each, out of this bottle of neutral Merlot. I have a late day tomorrow, and not much hopping. I'll be in and out late at work. Off season, I guess."
That evening, she had a friend over for dinner. The investigator again. She had some guy over, and she concentrated on the guy for dinner and talk and socializing. Leaving me to pair off with my investigator friend.
I gorged on my damn noodles she indulged me with. I salt them to death, I don't know why. The meatballs and gravy? I complimented her on to no end, until she showed me an empty packet in the garbage can. You just mixed it with water and heated it up. I thanked her for the tip.
Her work friend tried to get out of a glass of wine with TV.
"Oh, Mel. You're helping me, the more glasses of wine you drink. Really. Saving me money, will you please help me out, here."
He adjusted his horn rimmed glasses at her.
"And how would me consuming more of your commodity, save you money."
She smiled. Pointed to the holy wine rack.
"You see that thing?"
"It is nice."
"Right. I get too many bottle of wine, for gifts. That, is how I got that thing for a present. If I don't start drinking some of it, now and then? I need another wine rack, and that was a gift from a full partner. I don't feel like taking out an equity loan on my condo? Because I have too many bottles of free wine."
"Okay. To help you put off a major purchase? Pick something for TV night."
I knew her well enough. Something was up. She was friendly and deferential to him. I never said a word. None of my business, really. And if she was fishing in conversation for some tidbit that helped her out in some way? Again, her business. I just got a sense she buttered him up, that was all. A nice dinner and an extra bottle of wine? Might count for some half decent favor at work.
Off to myself with my investigator friend, while they were sharing lawyer jokes from work or something, I made an offhand comment on it. The buttering up. The investigator shrugged.
"Someone always wants something. For instance. Would you like to help me, get what I want?"
"Sure."
"Help me get him drunk. Keep him drunk. We want him wasted, and staying here."
"Okay. Why me?"
"A stranger helping feed him drinks? Way less suspicious. We just had fun watching TV."
"Makes sense. I'll do it."
"Just like that, you don't need to know why."
"For you? No. I'm good."
The investigator just nodded. I did set about feeding as much wine into him as I could. He was a sipper, and had a decent sized glass. I kept it topped up when he wasn't looking. He probably had two or three glasses at least, for the long one he thought he had. I dribbled it back in. I did what my investigator did, pretending to drink and not really. It took him forever to finish a glass. It was more for decoration.
We did manage to get him drunk, then sleepy lidded. She buttered him up more, with making him a bed on the comfortable leather overstuffed giant couch. When he finally passed out the three of us put him to bed. We got him into his underwear and socks and made him comfortable with blankets and pillows. Then those two slowly went through everything, looking for whatever they were looking for.
They finally found it. A computer thumb drive. Practically beneath notice in this case here, on a key chain. They verified that it was indeed, what they thought it was. Then? They simply copied it. Replaced everything as they had found it, thumb drive and everything in clothes that they put next to him sleeping and snoring.
She ended up tidying up then drifted off to bed, after thanking me for helping her. I was up with the investigator, and their mark was now passed out. I had shied away from drinking, and could stay up some now. He was doing it as well. We snacked and had cold soft drinks, bullshitting about my case. He was quite happy to drop one bombshell.
"I pulled the holy grail off, I swear, on social engineering."
"What do you mean."
He smiled.
"Well. You don't just get permission to get the governor's DNA. Especially for as pedestrian a use, as ruling him out as a suspect. But? I did it."
"You got the governor's DNA, and sent it off to a lab?"
"I did. The governor? Is excluded."
"Anything else?"
"Well, I'll be honest. Its drudge work to go through the phone records. I've done this before, the phone records thing? I know for a big guy like him, what to expect. I made a list and copies of the list. The list I work off of? I cross them off, as I get verification and it seems routine."
"What are you looking for then."
"You don't know? Till you find it."
"Are you going to tell me? How you did it."
The investigator shrugged.
"How I did what."
"Well? After all that buildup. How did you get the governor's DNA sample."
"Oh, that. See. He was so happy, that someone was coming forwards. Risking possible disbarment proceedings, to do him a solid. Scan for those phone numbers associated with the wacky kid. He gave us some face time, thanking us. I ended up getting his spoon, out of his coffee cup sitting there on the little end table."
"Good job."
"Sleight of hand. You palm a few things, out in the open, get away with them? You get better at it."
"You practice it?"
"Always. Someone's mom, no you can't have any of these cookies. They're for this and that. I make it a point? To palm one and get one. There's a lot of little tricks you can come up with."
"Like..."
"I like to set something down? To get something else, when I pick up to go. A book, a file... anything."
"Slick."
"I try."
"So. Anything stand out yet, on the governor and his phone numbers coming in."
"Its early yet. He is the governor. I'm crossing things off a list, as they become understandable. He's fairly public, so that helps out. I can get his itinerary, off of his website. Its a secret? Until he does it. Then it goes up item by item."