Chapter Three: Audience of Two

DALLAS, TEXAS

Dallas Police Department

January 7, 6:10 p.m.

Edwin Signe-Diara liked interrogations. He didn’t find that to be malevolent or sadistic in any way, he just loved it. He’d usually walk in with Halle, badger the suspect a bit, wait for the lawyer, and go at it.

   John honestly fancied sitting at a desk until nine typing his misadventures with his partner Gil rather than interrogating with Ed. Ed didn’t annoy him, though. He used to be Ed’s old partner, but Halle and Gil came in about the same time and they were split. It was nice having Gil around. It appeased his sarcasm because Gil did all the talking. John slipped up a time or two with witnesses, granted, but he was a good cop.

   John glanced up as Ed walked ahead, dragging Linda to the room. It was a bland, cold, dark room. It wasn’t too pleasant. Well, it wasn’t supposed to be a meadow or anything in the first place. He trudged ahead, closing the door behind them.

   Linda threw herself in the metal chair beside the metal table. She glared away, pulling at her fur vest. She smacked on a piece of bubblegum. “What do you need me for?”

   Ed was about to speak before John took lead. “Ma’am, do not fool us. We must wait for your attorney or else they could make it inadmissible.”

   She blinked and her clumped mascara bobbed. “You don’t even have a warrant.”

   “Look at my face,” Ed said, placing his palms leisurely on the table and angling his head curiously at her, getting only inches from her face, “and tell me now: Do you think I care?”

   The door opened again and in walked a woman in a gray business skirt and maroon blouse. Her hair was a hazel beehive trailing up her head. “So,” She voiced in a thick Southern-Belle accent. “You’re talkin’ to my client without me?”

   Ed sneered. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. We weren’t even speaking about the case yet.”

   “Well, do you have a warrant, then?” Linda’s attorney struck back.

   “No,” John said, “But she would look real suspicious if she left here with her being a liar.” He glanced at Linda. “Are you staying?”

   Linda looked at her lawyer for help. “What do I do?” She mouthed, putting her hand in her hands. “I’ll stay.”

   The attorney tried to argue, but Linda snapped, “I can do whatever the hell I want and what I want us to clear my name. Don’t tell me your stupid rights, just ask me questions.”

   Ed smirked. “You lied about where you were when Margaret Valor died. Why? Where were you?”

   Linda was like a helpless puppy. Her eyes were big and watery. “I… I was home alone.”

   “We’re supposed to believe you lied to cover your a*s because you thought it’d be suspicious to be home alone without an alibi?” John shook his head. “Come on, sweetie, we’ll need a little more than that.”

   She fumbled with her hands, moving in her chair. “Okay, okay, fine. I was with Ritz earlier that day. She left at, like, ten or something and I stayed home- my home. I didn’t go to Shiva’s party with her. That’s where she said she was going, but now that I think about it, it’d be impossible. You’d have to be in the sorority, or at least the college. Ritz wasn’t.”

   “What were you doing together?” John asked, folding his arms. He paced around her. “What would two friends be doing alone for all that time? Did you go out? Did you watch television?” He cocked his head. “What were you doing with Margaret Valor the day you kidnapped her?”

   “I would never hurt her!”

   “You lied once,” Ed said. “What makes you think we consider you to tell the truth from now on?”

   Linda put her face in her hands again. She slumped over the table and moaned something.

   “We can’t hear you when you mumble, sweetie,” John whispered to her.

   “She was my girlfriend,” Linda said through her fingers shamefully. “I’m not out. I didn’t…”

   “We’re done here.” Linda’s attorney grabbed Linda’s arm, taking her away. She looked back in. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, Posh.”

   John grinned snidely. “You remembered my name, how pleasant.” He watched her leave, turning to Ed. “Motive, do you think?”

   Ed shook his head. “No. She didn’t kill her girlfriend- I don’t think. She’s too upset to have done that, but we still can’t rule her out. There are always reasons to kill the girlfriend.”

 

DALLAS, TEXAS

Dallas Police Department

January 7, 7:00 p.m.

“It may be a hate crime,” John offered, glancing at Halle. “Did anyone find any sort of gang items at the dump site?”

   Halle stood, walking over to the black board in the front of the room. She picked up a stump of chalk and marked out the word ‘gang.’ “No gang affiliation evident, so I’m basically ruling that out. It could be religious, though, and we haven’t spoken Margaret’s pastor yet, either. A church or cult may have been angry that she had a child out of wedlock, but it’s still a tad extreme to torture like that for a week. I think we could probably rule that out, too.” She had calmed since her little breakdown earlier that night. Gil left and she was comfortable with Ed, John, and Diane.

   “No, no… I think it was personal or an extremely vicious sadistic. All the burns, that’s not really gang or religious signatures in the recent past.” Diane leaned on her stool, taking the stub from Halle and marking out ‘religion.’ “Family is marked out, too, since she was the only kid the Valors had, and they’re dead.” She crossed through it. Diane set the piece on the edge of the board, brushing the pasty white dust from her coppery hands. She blinked a few times, grimacing at the clumping mascara on the tips of her eyelashes. “Are there any more ideas that the dump site or current M.O. showed you two?”

Ed shook his head in unison with Halle. “But,” He started, “Hal did find a blonde hair, and when Doug processed it, he said it was male. That’s all we’ve got for now. He’s not in any systems we’ve found. All we know is the perp is white, thirty to forty. Sorry.”

   Patting down her black slacks, Diane stood from her metal stool. “Okay, so we’re looking for a white, blonde, older guy. This is hopeless,” She walked back to her office.

   Being captain of this precinct was a little difficult at times, but Diane Ngo managed. She had her own shipshape office, for Christ’s sake. What was to complain about? It was a small room, but it was hers, and damn well she worked for it. She was thirty-seven, a widow, and a captain of a police department. It was a fine title at her age. All of her friends were librarians or teachers or mediocre.

   It was a harsh way to put it, but Diane changed things. She only knew her coworkers to do the same, and none of them wanted to be her friend- except for the occasional fling with John Posh, but it was awkward afterward and they decided to rarely do that. Only desperate measures acquainted them in bed, or even being alone. Anyways, being with John Posh did make Diane feel a little guilty. Khan, her late husband, was a good mad, dying of lung cancer due to secondhand smoke only a few years earlier. She loved him, but she knew he’d want her to go on, so she did.

   Someone knocked at Diane’s door.

   John Posh peeked through the blinds on the window of the door. ‘May I,” he mouthed.

   Rolling her eyes, Diane nodded once. Her eyes trailed John Posh as he walked in, locked the door, and closed the blinds. “Are you mad at me?”

   Diane scoffed, saying, “Don’t give yourself so much credit. I’m just a little stressed because my anniversary with Khan is coming up and it’s a gloomy time for me to go through. You can understand, right?”

   “Just because I divorced Marcie doesn’t mean I felt bad about it. I don’t miss her.” He stood at the edge of the room, watching Diane. “It’s different, Diane, and I can’t understand. I just wanted to know. I care about you, and it’s difficult to see you this way.” He walked over behind her desk, taking her in a tight hug. “You’re going to celebrate it?”

   Diane shook her head, breaking the embrace. “No. That’d be… wrong. I have for the past years, but I think it’s time I let Khan go.” She picked at the clumpy mascara, looking away from John. “You’re making me feel bad.”

   He smiled lightly, shaking his head. “Diane, you’re torturing yourself. If you want, you can have dinner with me. What do you say?”

   Diane sighed, closing her eyes. “I need to focus on the case at hand. I can figure this out if I really try. I’m sorry, John, I really am, but I can’t replace Khan. You’re not going to be a rebound. I won’t let myself treat you that way. You’re too good for that.”

   John bit her lip. “You know my number and my desk location. Talk to me if you need.” He left her office, closing the door softly.

   Diane scratched as her wrist, trying to hold back her emotions. The job was stressing being alone… she stood, running from her chair and flinging the door open. “John!” She called. He was walking to his desk, but he looked back, their eyes meeting. “Is that dinner offer still on the table?”

   A smile broke through John’s face like a lightning bolt. “Of course it is, Diane- for you, it always is.” He turned around to go back to his desk, grinning. With his jacket on, John escorted Diane from the precinct to his car outside. He swung the door open, bowing playfully.

   She cocked her head, looking into his eyes. “You know, you make me feel so guilty sometimes, John. I feel like it’s an obligation to make you feel happier.”

   He gasped, his hand flying up to his mouth. “It isn’t?!”

   Diane hit him teasingly on the arm. “Okay, Johnny, we can stop playing now. Where are you taking me?”

    “I thought maybe we could go to that little Greek place down on Travis Street. Do you like Greek?”

   “I’ve never tried.” She beamed as she climbed into the car, buckling her seatbelt. John closed the door and walked to the other side. “So,” he started, “how has life been for you?”

  John placed his hand on the back of Diane’s headrest and watched the rear of the Buick as he backed out of the station. He began driving ahead, glancing at Diane every few moments.

   “Life,” she laughed, “has taken its toll, I can say. I’ve been a little on the edge with work. My superiors are really kicking my a*s with the paperwork on Halle.” She shrugged. “I’m okay, John. Life’s okay. My hardships could be much worse than they are already. I’ve gone through harder times anyways.”

   “Is your anniversary hurting you?”

   Diane scoffed. “Usually, yeah, it would be, but I think my relationship with Khan wasn’t totally secluded and imprisoned. I think I can have another love after him, so no. It’s not too terribly awful as we near it.”

   John nodded absentmindedly. He tapped his fingers on the wheel and faltered a time or two, figuring out what to say. He found it. “Um, well, my divorce sucked. So, sure… I kind of know how you feel, Di.”

   Diane laughed. “John, your ex-wife is living in Birmingham with a twenty year old. My husband is living in the ground in Vietnam. It’s a bit different.”

   “Yeah, I get that, but I miss her all the time. I’ll always miss her.”

   “It’s more than me just missing him. Khan was… he was mine. He was stolen from me. Your ex was just screwing some Puerto Rican a*s wipe that couldn’t speak English. It’s a whole mile of a difference.” She placed her hand on his, which rested on the console. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a b***h about it.”

   “You are not a b***h. Trust me, Diane, you’re so much more.” He tightened his fingers around hers and smirked.

 

 

DALLAS, TEXAS

Ziziki’s Restaurant

January 7, 7:22 p.m.

Shiva Sarek Shadan wore a pink and black floral dress, and she looked very pleasing to the eye, but she couldn’t help but to be embarrassed. Every single time she moved the damn spaghetti strap on her right shoulder would falter and fall. It was the frosting on the cake for Shiva’s perfect day. It began warm and sunny, which was a nice change, until she realized that she was dreaming. Number one already pumped her up and beat her down in an instant. She woke up, looked at the clock, and looked at the door. She needed to pack and someone was knocking. The nerve of some people! It was the cops, too, who informed her that her friend was found dead. Number two hit a soft spot, leading Shiva to slam the door in the faces of the police officers, cry profusely for many hours, and eat her feelings through a complete tub of triple fudge ice cream while watching Samantha Jones and Richard Wright break up. She then ran off some calories and began packing again when more cops talked to her. Number three was simply pushing it. Shiva finally apprehended what day of the week it was, cursed angrily, and got dressed for a date she felt coerced into going to in the first place. Number four was just… tear-jerking. The last number brought Shiva to this Greek place with weird, erroneous-smelling food. She did not want to eat dastardly eggplant and unidentifiable skewers of meat. What was even worse was that Christian Gillard. He was the messiest eater in all of Texas, for crying out loud. Seventeen napkins were used for the appetizer- Shiva had counted. She was definitely not ready for the actual meal.

   Gil picked up an eighteenth napkin, but Shiva placed her hand on his. “Please stop. You’re embarrassing yourself, let alone me.”

   He dropped it, angrily taking his wine glass and taking a swig of it. A look of disdain crossed his face, and his upper lip quivered around the rim of the glass. He set it down. “I’d like to be civil here. It’s a public place after all, Shiva.”

   Shiva’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?! You’re the pig!”

   A few heads turned and she blushed. She kept her face down, her forehead in her hand. The door opened and two people walked in, right on time for the show.

   The couple gave Gil and Shiva especially odd looks. Shiva almost died of humiliation.

DALLAS, TEXAS

Ziziki’s Restaurant

January 7, 7:26 p.m.

 

John opened the door to Ziziki’s, leading Diane inside. “I just love the paella here.” He was about to say more when he heard a few murmurs and turned to the attraction. There sat his partner, Gil, and a suspect, Shadan. “That’s just plain tacky.”

   Diane nodded in agreement. “Tacky isn’t necessarily the word I would use,” She laughed, “but yeah. Gil just has no table manners.”

   “I wasn’t talking about that. He’s consorting with a suspect.” John swallowed, but looked away. The job wasn’t to be proud of his partner- and he was off duty anyhow. What did it matter if Gil was a dumbass? It didn’t harm John.