Bequeathed

Chapter Twenty-Five: Criminal History

The grey walls appear simultaneously sterile and filthy. At first glance, they appear clean, but upon a closer inspection, Claire sees chunks of debris pushing against the thick layer of grey paint that coats the wall. It looks as if whenever there is a mess, those in charge think it’s easier to add a new coat of paint than to clean the walls. Claire glues her arms to her sides as she stands in line, waiting to move through the security area. The guard motions for Claire to move forward. Claire steps towards him, her hands still pressed against her side. She steps closer; the guard raises a hand.

“Handbags, cellphones, keys, all personal items will be left here,” the guard says. He has Claire sign for her items, the guard gives her a receipt. Next, she moves through a body scanner. She has nothing on her except the receipt, yet Claire is nervous when she walks through it.

Claire lingers under the arch of the scanner.

“Ms….step forward,” the guard at the scanner says to Claire. Claire hurries through, expecting a delayed beep.

“You may go ahead," the guard says.

Claire sits behind the glass and waits. Feeling as if she’s in the scene of a move, but she’s forgotten her lines. She takes the telephone off the wall, puts it to her ears, and listens to the nothingness on the other end. She puts the phone back and waits for Tyler to enter the room.

He walks in, looks at her, then back at the guards. He seems to waver in his decision; he makes a choice and walks over. He sits and pulls the phone to his ear in one swift motion. He tilts his head to the left.

“Oh.” Claire has forgotten the phone on the wall. She grabs for it, it rattles against the base. It slips from her grip; she catches it with her other hand.

“You’re not a lawyer,” Tyler says. He leans forward, his nose brushes the glass. He sweeps his dusty blonde hair from his eyes. The guard behind him calls out to him and he moves back an inch. Tyler doesn’t appear to be annoyed or upset. He seems intrigued by Claire’s half-truth.

“I didn’t say I was a lawyer,” Claire says. “I said I wanted legal advice.”

“Lady, do you see know where you are? What kind of legal advice can I give you?”

“Not legal advice then.” Claire moves the phone closer to her mouth and immediately regrets it. The receiver touches her lips. The corner of her mouth seems to tingle instantly. She adjusts the receiver. “Information,” whispers Claire. “I’d like some information on a job you pulled. A robbery at the port.”

Tyler moves away another inch. His intrigue has turned to suspicion. “I already did my time for that.”

“I know, but I want to know why…why did you do it?”

“So you’re not a lawyer, you’re some type of priest….or is it priestess? Come to take my confession?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Claire says. “You only took a few thousand dollars worth of goods...maybe ten. You could have gone back. Or pulled a much bigger job with a team. Did you have a team?”

“Listen, lady. I ain’t no rat.”

“I’m…I’m not trying to get you to rat on anyone. I just want to know…”

“What?”

“Why did you burn the container? That part doesn’t make sense. If you hadn’t stayed to burn it, you wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

Tyler studies Claire through the glass.

“The fire cost us…White Textiles more than what you would have gotten away with.”

“Wait a minute.” Tyler leans forward, resting his elbows on the partition. “Go back to what you said earlier.”

“The fire was more costly.” Claire squirms in her seat.

“No, the other thing,” Tyler says. “You said us.”

Claire bites the inside of her bottom lip.

“Are you related to the old woman? The blonde with the pretty face. She must have been quite a looker in her days…”

“Aunt Bev.” Claire lets the words slip then quickly shuts her mouth.

“So you are related to her.” Tyler smiles. He looks beyond Claire. “Where is she? She come to pay me another visit? Last time she really did me a solid.”

“Dead,” Claire whispers. “She’s dead.”

“That’s a bummer. She was a real nice lady. She really stuck her neck out for me after all I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“She got the prosecutors to reduce the charges,” Tyler says. “Says I was just a kid caught up in things that had nothing to do with me. She wanted all the charges dismissed, but they wouldn’t allow it. I’d already gotten in so much trouble, they figured I needed to at least do a little time. They thought it would straighten me out.” Tyler brushes his hair from his eyes. “I’m back in here so I guess I must be pretty straight.”

“What do you mean she helped you? You cost our company millions.” Claire can’t help it. The anger flows from her mouth. Aunt Bev took the time to petition for a convict. The same Aunt Bev cut Claire off even though she has never gotten more than detention in school.

“She came in,” Tyler says, paying little mind to Claire’s stewing anger. “She asked me questions. I told her about the guys who paid me to do the job. Then she did what she could to get me off.”

Claire’s mind is racing. She lost her parents for heaven’s sake. Why couldn’t Aunt Bev have shown her this level of understanding and compassion? “Who paid you?”

“Some guys from the block,” Tyler says. “They sell clothes or some crap like that, now.”

“Alfred’s?”

Tyler shrugs. “That could be the one. To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to forget about them. I thought it would have been easy money. A thousand dollars to grab the stuff and I could keep whatever I grabbed.”

Claire presses the phone to her ear, to see if she’s hearing correctly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I wasn’t thinking about what made sense. I was thinking about the money. A thousand upfront…and I could make a few more off the things when I sell them. But at the last minute, plans changed. They told me to burn the container as well. Like you said, I wouldn’t have gotten caught if it wasn’t for that fire.”

None of this is making sense to Claire. William insisted that he didn’t know Aunt Bev. Here she has proof that William arranged for the robbery and fire. Well, half proof. It had to be them. It had to be William and Gabrial. Who else could it have been? But why would William and Gabrial want to steal from White Textiles? They didn’t want to steal, actually. The fire was what they were after. Claire could understand them stealing the fabrics because they clearly are having a problem paying their vendors. Ten years ago they may have been starting Alfred's and needed raw material But they didn’t try to use it. They told Tyler that he could keep whatever he took. Claire has been preoccupied with the motive for her murder, but the motive for the fire may be more of a revelation.

“I gotta go,” Tyler says.” He stands. Before he puts the phone back on the wall he says, “I’m sorry about your aunt. She was a really good woman.”

Claire watches his back disappear as the guard carts him off.