Chapter 7 Trench Coat
1197 Words
Chapter 7
Trench Coat
James feels claustrophobic in a small precinct interrogation room. He occupies an uncomfortable metal chair seated behind the solitary table. Barren walls surround James, except for the one-way mirror that occupies half of one wall, and the door out.
Samuels paces on the other side of the table. “Was there really a home invasion?” He pauses and leans over the table. He lowers his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “Don’t be embarrassed. It happens. Just tell the truth.”
“We caught them in the act,” James says. “Why else would I call you?”
“I know it’s hard to talk about.” Samuels nods at James sympathetically. “Has Maria ever hit you?”
James pushes off the table to stand. He notices Samuels putting his hand closer to his weapon and sits back down. “What? Why are you…well…not really.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing. Yes or no? Be straight with me.” Samuels channels more cop, less friend.
“Just friendly taps on the arm,” James says.
The cop leans in further and stares eye to eye with James. “Hard enough to cause bruises?”
James squirms in his seat. “Sometimes she plays rough. She forgets her own…” This cop doesn’t know Maria. He won’t understand. Sweat glistens on his forehead. “No. She doesn’t hurt me.”
“James, you know how that sounds? Can you lift up your shirt?”
“Whatever, I have nothing to hide.” James unbuttons his vest and shirt. Bruises and numerous scabs scatter across his chest.
Samuels cringes. “Yikes, she really did a number on you.”
James relies on instinct and a half-remembered impression. “Oh, right. I think I fell.”
The cop interprets his insecurity as lying. Samuels pounds the table. “Don’t make excuses for her. Look, your old lady came looking for you with a b****y sword. I’d be freaked out too. You were right to call us.”
James shifts in his chair. “She’s not my old lady. She’s my bro.”
“She didn’t look like a bro to me.” Samuels plunks down pictures from a folder showing both sides of the bed slept in. “Do you usually sleep with your bro? Tell me about last night.”
“Last night is a little fuzzy.”
“So, you admit, Maria might have hurt you.”
“I don’t remember.” James wonders about last night. He tries to dredge up any memories he can.
Samuels says, “Did you cut yourself shaving with the samurai sword? That’s the only excuse I haven’t heard yet.”
“It’s not my blood.”
“We’ll find that out soon enough. Can we get a DNA sample to prove it?”
James folds his arms. “Go ahead. Am I being charged?”
“No,” Samuels says. “We’ll release you after we finish your statement.”
“Where’s Maria?”
“By law, we have to arrest a suspected batterer, when we see visible marks.” Samuels points at James’ chest. “We’ll hold her seventy-two hours, more if you press charges. I suggest filing a restraining order.”
James grows impatient. “What about my apartment?”
“Wait here, while I check on your break-in investigation.” The door buzzes and Samuels leaves. The lock clicks behind him.
If he’s just taking a statement, why is the door locked? James tilts his head down and closes his eyes. He attempts to center himself, to reconstruct the last twenty-four hours.
Before long, a door buzz interrupts his thoughts. James opens his eyes. It’s not Samuels.
A blond male with gloves and a trench coat enters. Wraparound sunglasses and a hat conceal sections of his face. His clothes seem out of place on such a hot day. “I’ll give you a choice. Very rich, or very dead?” He speaks with a thick Russian accent.
“Hmm, hard choice.” James tests with a laugh, but Trench Coat Man doesn’t even smile. “What’s the fine print?”
“Police think Maria hurt you. What if new clues point to…murder instead? Like, say, a body to match Maria’s b****y weapon.”
James breathes unevenly. Chills travel down his spine. He thinks back to all the episodes of violence he’s seen or heard about. “Maria didn’t kill anyone…did she?”
Trench Coat Man grins at his doubts. “Kill today, or later, that rose has razor thorns. Get too close, and she cuts you. Renquist has scars to prove it.”
“I don’t hear choices,” James says.
“Recover our secrets and testify against Maria for murder. You get your life back, and the Adaptive Unlimited sale goes through. You’ve got a billion reasons to help us.”
What secrets? What was on Maria’s surveillance recordings? James tries to hide his worry with a smirk. “What’s behind door number two?”
“We give you reasons to take your own life. Once we tire of waiting, we help you to the great beyond.”
“I pick none of the above.” James stands, defiant. “I pick Maria. I pick taking my company back.”
Trench Coat Man cracks his knuckles. “Next time I see you, the only choices will be what bones you want broken next.” With a swirl of the coat, a buzz, and a click, he vanishes like an apparition.
Who opened the door? At least one other cop must be in the booth conspiring with Trench Coat Man. Why does Renquist need to own cops?
James stares at the one-way mirror. Maybe if he bores them, they’ll leave. His new staring strategy only makes him sleepy. The only off switch his brain has is alcohol, which is not normally found in police interrogation rooms. He zones out, thinking, thinking, thinking.
He awakens from his trance with a memory. James strides to the door and pounds on it. “Officer Samuels?” James continues pounding and calling out for him until he hears voices outside.
Samuels opens the door with a surprised look. “Sorry Mr. Wong, they told me you already left.” He holds the door open for James and motions for him to follow. “We have everything we need. You are free to go.”
James emerges into the wide-open spaces of the police precinct. There are no cubicle walls, just an open floor plan arrangement of desks and people. James follows Samuels back to his desk.
“Officer Monroe is looking into your break-in.” Samuels hands James contact info.
“I can prove Maria didn’t hurt me.” James doesn’t remember what’s in the video, but Maria wouldn’t hurt him, at least intentionally. “She posted a video online that night.”
Navigating the web flusters Samuels.
James reaches across Samuels’ chest to type. He finds Maria’s post. The thumbnail for the video features Maria doing a sensual pose in her curve-hugging power suit.
Samuels points to his monitor. “Two million views. Wow. You’re a virus.” He tilts his head with a thoughtful expression. “Yeah. I get those on my computer all the time.”
James chooses not to explain the difference between virus and viral. He watches the video intently.
Other cops loiter behind Samuels to watch. One of the youngest cops blurts out, “Hey, it’s None of the Above Guy. It’s so long. This must be the extended version. How does it feel to be an Internet celebrity?”
James shakes hands. “I just found out. It feels surreal.” He cringes at the embarrassing parts of the video. When he splats straight into the table, James points excitedly, “See I fell. That’s where the bruises came from.”
Samuels narrows his eyes. “What a jerk. You get drunk and let this woman take the fall for hurting you? You should be ashamed. I’m getting her released right now. If she smacks you, don’t come crying to me. You deserve it.”
James sighs and rolls his eyes.
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