You Must Believe Me...

Mike is desperate to clear his name. No one believes him, because he is a known pathological liar. When he meets Maggie, he thinks he has found the solution to his problems.

The door slams behind me, and I can feel the locking of the deadbolt in my bones. I don’t blame them for not believing me, after all I have spent the last 26 years of my life being a pathological liar. But this time, this time I am telling the truth. And no one will believe me.

The interrogation room looks like a set from Law and Order. The room is small, and had no windows except for the one on the door, which everyone who passes by looks into. The officer who put me in here keeps peeking into the window, proud of himself. There are two officers standing outside, I guess to keep watch to make sure I don’t make a run for it. They look in and laugh at me, like I’m some kind of a joke. I wish they would have put me on the other side of this table. I feel like a caged animal. People gawking, looking, staring, and all I can do is sit here. Too bad I don’t know any good tricks.

The table, which is metal and dented and sticky for some reason, has been recently bolted to the ground. The metal bolts are much shinier than the table, and I can still see scraps of metal from drilling through the foot of the table. I would love to hear the story of what made them bolt the table to the ground.

The chairs are the metal fold up ones that are at every cookout I have ever been to. Sitting on them in this interrogation room makes them so much more uncomfortable. They squeak every time you move, and they always make you feel like you’re going to fall over. Maybe that’s on purpose, to make you feel on edge the whole time. Or maybe that’s me looking too deep into things. I tend to do that a lot.

I am desperate to know what time it is, but there are no clocks in the room, or in the line of sight through my little window. I keep squinting to see if I can somehow see through the two- way mirror, but with no luck. I can’t even see if the sun is still out, or if the moon has taken its place. If I was guilty, which I’m not, not knowing the time would drive me to a confession. I need a clock. I need to know how much of my life they are wasting on trying to get a confession out of me, when I am innocent. I need to know how much longer I have to wait.

 

 

Lies have always come easy to me. They are a stretch of the imagination, and are usually difficult to keep up with. At least that’s what my parents always told me.

“It’s better to tell the truth and own up to it rather than lie and have to keep up with the details. Just be honest and upfront. I promise we’ll be nicer if you tell the truth in the first place.” I can’t tell you how many times and versions of those lines I got growing up.

It has always been a game to me. See how crazy of a lie I could make up and have people still believe me. When I was a teenager, I hit a car on our street because I was texting while I was driving. But when the police came and asked what happened, I said someone had been following me, and I was looking in my rearview mirror to try and see who it was. When I turned my eyes back on the road, my neighbor’s cat was in the street. I slammed on the breaks and turned the wheel hard to the left to try and avoid him, but I hit the car in the process of it. The neighbor dropped the charges and thanked me for being so careful and not hurting his precious feline friend. I hate cats.

Some people do drugs or drink or gamble, I get high off of lying and getting away with it. I’ve lied to girlfriends, telling them I love them and that I see a future with them. But in reality I only want them to help pay for that month’s rent, or my car payment, or whatever I need at the time. Hell, I’ve even faked being gay for a night to have a guy cook me dinner and stock my bar. If you ask me, it’s being strategic.

 

 

I’m stuck in here, waiting patiently for my alibi to check out. I can’t even take a polygraph test to speed things up because I’m almost positive my heart would race at the thought of telling the truth. My lies would come off as the truth, and vice versa.

I don’t know why Charlotte is telling them that I kidnapped her. I would never do that to her, or anyone! I wasn’t even in town this weekend! What is she trying to do to me? Is it because she was the first to find out about my little (alright big) lying problem? But God that was two years ago. I only dated her for a couple of months, I think, and didn’t even manipulate her for rent money, or anything. Sure I lied a lot, about where I was and what I was doing, but she was one of the only honest relationships I ever had. So why is she doing this?

I can’t prove my innocence until I find a way to convince the police that I was actually out of town. Problem is, I didn’t leave a money trail because I only used the cash I stole off of the girl I had slept with the night before. Yeah, that sounds messed up but really, who keeps $600 in cash in their clutch purse? Someone who wants to have it stolen, obviously. I convinced her that it must have happened at the club where we met when she left her bag on the bar to dance with me. She bought it. Some people are just too easy to manipulate, which makes it hard for me to stop doing what I do.

Anyways ok, ok, back to clearing my name. I took the weekend to go to the beach and clear my head a little. I don’t always want to lie, usually it just happens without a second thought. I want to be able to just tell one person everything, only the truth. I was walking along the beach thinking about how people tell the truth all the time, and why it was so easy for them and not me. What had I done that made me like this?

Maybe it wasn’t anything I did at all. I walked and walked along the water, watching the sun creep towards the horizon. A yellow lab came up from behind me, and dropped his tennis ball at my feet, the green fluorescent color glowing in the dusk. I picked it up and looked around for his owner. A woman came running down the sand dunes, falling face first in the process.
I ran over to help her up, and the dog followed along. I picked her up and helped her brush the sand out of her eyes. Her dog helped by licking her hands and leaning against her, as if telling her he was fine, and very happy.

“Thank you so much for stopping Duffy. He loves the water so much he just took off as soon as I opened the door for him!” she said breathlessly, bending down to hug her dog, who licked her face in return. “Next time you will be put on a leash before the door opens,” she stood and looked at me. “My name is Margaret, but please call me Maggie,” she said with a smile and an extended hand.

“Name is Mike,” I replied with a handshake. “And don’t worry, Duffy here was sweet, just wanting to play.” Duffy was beginning to become impatient and was whining and doing every trick he knew to get Maggie’s attention. So far, he’s done sit, roll over, shake, and is now on his back, paws in the air, playing dead.

“Do you have any dogs, Mike?” Maggie asked, smiling as she threw the tennis ball into the ocean. Duffy took off like a bat out of hell to chase it.

“Yes, actually. I have one back home. He doesn’t like the waves, though. They scare him,” I chuckle. There I go again. Why do I have to lie about everything? I haven’t had a dog since I was 15.

“Well, I had a dog. He passed away a few years ago but I have a hard time not talking about him in the present tense.” Nice save. The truth felt good, and I didn’t know what to do. We spent the rest of the evening walking along the beach and throwing driftwood and toys into the water for Duffy to fetch. Maggie mentioned that she had just had surgery last year, and was celebrating a full recovery with a day at the beach with her dog.

God I wish I had gotten Maggie’s last name. Maybe it wouldn’t take so long for them to find her if I had gotten her last name.

 

 

 

“I’ve already told you IT WASN’T M-”

The detective went to move the table from out in front of me. I guess he forgot about the table being bolted to the ground. I think I figured out why the table was bolted down. He threw the second chair across the room, and some cinder fell from the wall onto the floor. Apparently he’s just as frustrated as I am.

“Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t you. We get it. But this could all be over if you just tell us the truth. Can you tell the truth?” This detective has been interrogating me for hours, slamming me around this room, trying to get me to say what he wants to hear.

 “I swear to you, I am telling the truth. I didn’t kidnap Charlotte. I haven’t even spoken to her in two years. Why would I want to do this?” I’m crying and sweating and I don’t know how much longer I can stand this, which is what he wants.

“I spent the evening and night with Margaret and her yellow lab Duffy. I don’t know her last name, and I don’t know anything about her. Please, if you find her, you will find my alibi. I promise you,” I’ve never worked so hard to tell the truth, and it was exhausting.

“I won’t waste my resources on lies. I’ll come back when you’re ready to tell me why you did this,” the detective swung the door open and started to leave.

“WAIT!!” I screamed. He turned around with a grin creeping across his face. “Good, now let’s talk,” he said.

“Margaret told me-”

“Again with this Margaret bullshit?” the detective snapped.

“Please, hear me out,” I plead. If he were to just believe me, take my word for it. He could just look Maggie up and this would all be over. “Margaret told me she recently had knee surgery from an old sports injury she got in college. She had just been cleared by her doctor, which is why she brought her dog to the beach that day. I bet if you run her name and surgery in whatever databases you guys use, you’ll find her,” relief washed over me.

“Fine, I’ll run it. But you better hope this checks out, or it’s not going to be good for you,” the detective said with a slammed door, that shook the two way mirror. I thought I could see a clock when the glass billowed, but maybe that was my imagination getting the best of me.

I need Maggie to show up. She should have been here by now.

 

 

I keep looking for new things to pass the time, since clearly no one is coming to get me any time soon. I started counting the cracks in the cinderblock bricks. I lost count, so I started imagining what happened to the dents in the door and table. How long has it been since someone cleaned this place? I can still smell the vomit of whoever was in here last, and my shoe is stuck in gum. Not to mention the finger prints on the two-way are driving me nuts. If they’re gonna make me wait in here they may as well let me clean it up.

For a place made of cinderblocks, the walls are awful thin.  I just overheard a woman being told that her husband was a victim of a hit and run, and her screaming sent chills down my spine. Her wails made it impossible to understand what she was saying, except NO, which took four heaving sobs each time. Sitting in the adjacent room is uncomfortable, I’m just glad I’m not the one sitting in the room with her. What do you do with someone that hysterical? Do officers have to take a class on how to console grieving family? The officer just keeps repeating sorry, and the woman screams louder every time he apologizes. Can’t he take a hint?

The door swung open and dented the wall behind it. That’s why those chunks of cinderblock are missing. I realize I had fallen asleep, and there was a puddle of drool where my face was. The detective stood in the doorway, and his figure took up the entire frame. He demanded attention without saying a word. I tried to look around him to find a damn clock, but I can’t find one. He’s not even wearing a watch. Did they do that on purpose? The more I think about it the more frustrated I get.

With the detective in the room, it seems even smaller than it did before, if that was possible. He reeks of cheap coffee, hazelnut creamer, and too much cologne. I know police work long hours, but that does not excuse not using deodorant. At least the smell of old vomit is gone. Though, I’m not sure which is worse.

I couldn’t read him, he didn’t look pleased, or upset. I had no idea if he had results back or if he was just here to throw stuff around again and attempt to verbally assault me.

“Well, we found her. Margaret Olivia Sampson,” he said, slamming her file on the table. Why does she have a file?

“She had surgery on her left ACL 10 months ago and was just cleared completely by her doctor three weeks ago.” A grin crept across his face. S**t. Now what?

“Does this mean I can go now? Please I’ve been in here for longer than I can count.” I stand up, only to be greeted with a palm to the chest. I’m on the ground, and my sleeve is stuck in the gum my shoe was in just seconds ago. Get me out of this place.

“I only said we found her. She hasn’t been contacted or questioned, and I’m not sure we’ll believe what she has to say even if it checks with your story. Criminals don’t like to tell the truth, and don’t like to cooperate with cops. Ya know, you’re sounding more and more like a criminal as the day goes on.”

“Please, you have to understand that I am telling the truth. I did not kidnap Charlotte, I haven’t even spoken to her in years. I-,”

“I’m not asking if you’ve talked or texted or anything like that. I don’t think you’re dumb enough to call her.” The detective leaned in so close to my face I could see that he had a small green leaf in his teeth. “I’m asking why you kidnapped her,” the detective snapped. My god his breath reeks.

“I. Did. Not. Kidnap. Charlotte. Haven’t you noticed that I never asked for a lawyer, that I’ve cooperated with everything you guys have asked me to so far? I’ve sat and sat and sat and nothing. I’m innocent, which is why I’m cooperating with you and your investigation. But I am telling you that you are wasting your time here. I’m not the one you are looking for. So, call Maggie, get her statement, so we can all go home and you guys can stop wasting your time on me.”

“You better watch your mouth boy, before I find something else to charge you with. Now shut your mouth, and keep waiting. I’ll waste all the time I want until I pin this on you.” A grim smile spread across his face. I might throw up. He’s going to pin this on me whether I did it or not.

“Please, please just give her a call. I need to go home, I can’t be here anymore. I’m innocent, and I don’t know what else to tell you to change your mind.” If I have to say those words again, I will lose my mind.

The detective rolled his eyes and opened and slammed the door behind him, again. Still no clock in sight

 

The sun had finally set, and the beach was only lit by the parking lot lights that flickered on and off and buzzed like a swarm of angry bees.

“So, what brought you and Duffy to the beach?” I asked, kneeling down to give Duffy a good back scratch. His tail wagged in approval, and I swore he smiled at me.

“Well, my doc just cleared me for full activity after surgery. I used to play basketball,” I looked over and clearly she saw the confusion on my face. She couldn’t have been taller than 5’3”. “I know I’m short, and I never said I was good, just that I played.” I laughed so hard that I snorted, and instantly felt my face flush. I haven’t laughed genuinely in such a long time.

It’s hard being me. I don’t want sympathy, I’m trying to be honest here. I have a hard time telling the truth, which makes it hard to keep friends. No one wants to be friends with someone who lies all the time and about everything. I’m working on getting better, I really am. I’m starting with strangers, which is why I want to only tell Maggie the truth while we talk.

“Hey, more power to ya. I did some martial arts and golfing as a kid, but didn’t really get competitive. I was never in to team sports. I preferred to do things on my own and have the consequences only affect me.” Funny how that sounds, coming from a compulsive liar.

She squinted her eyes at me, and raised one eyebrow. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and we will probably never see each other again, so why are you lying to me?”

My stomach twists; I am telling the truth! “What do you mean? I am telling the truth. I have nothing to lose by being honest.”

“Then why do you refuse to look me in the eye, and your palms are sweating because you keep rubbing them on your pants. You mess with your hair when you’re not wringing your hands or scratching your nose. You’re a horrible liar.” She grinned, proud of herself. She thinks she has me figured out.

Surely she must be joking. My head is spinning. I look like a liar when I tell the truth? This is how people feel when they lie??

“Fine, you want the truth?”

Her eyes lit up. Here goes nothing.

“I lie. A lot. More than any one person ever should. But I have told you nothing but the truth since I have met you, I promise. I know that is hard to believe, but it’s the truth. That’s why I’m acting weird. I’m trying not to say the first thing that comes to my mind, I’m only telling the truth. Take it for what it is.”

I won’t look her in the eye. I feel a hand on my arm, and I look up slightly.

“I know what you’re going through, I know what it is like to fight constantly with your mind. I got through it, and so can you.”

Duffy slumped into a puddle of yellow fur at our feet, panting until he finally laid his head down on the ground.

“Look, I better get him home before he falls asleep. But I hope things get better for you, I really do. You’ll get past this.” She turned and unlocked her car, and motioned Duffy to jump in the back seat. I gave him one last belly rub, and closed the door behind him. Maggie sat in the front seat, started her car and rolled down her window.

I leaned on her window, trying not to be too weird. “Hey, Maggie? I have a favor to ask.” This better work.

Maggie turned around, confused. “Uh, yeah, sure Mike. As long as it’s quick, I need to get Duffy home.

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“I’m in some trouble with the law, nothing serious though. I’m innocent, but I need an alibi. I was at the beach when something happened to a friend of mine, and they are trying to blame me. I just need you to tell the police you were with me during those days. I can even pay you, I have $600 in cash. Please it would mean a lot to me.” I held my breath and squinted my eyes while avoiding eye contact with Maggie. She must think I’m a total freak.

“You have it in cash you said?” Maggie is smiling. Did this work?

“Yeah, yeah of course.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out six crisp $100 bills, courtesy of the redhead from the bar. At least I’m putting the money to good use.

Maggie took the money and counted all six again, and checked to make sure they were real bills.

“Alright, I can do that. Tell me what you need me to do.”

I can’t believe this worked. “I just need you to come in Monday morning and tell the police that you have information on a case regarding Charlotte Moore. You have an alibi for Michael Farris. I have a paper from the day I need a cover for, so we’ll take a picture now and you can print it out so that they don’t trace the date on your phone or camera. Thank you so much Maggie. You’re seriously saving my life.”

Maggie looked concerned, as if she was wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. I took a photo with her on her phone, so she could take it to be developed.

“Ok, so develop this picture and go to the police station first thing Monday morning. Got it, see ya then.” With that, she threw her car in reverse and sped off into the night, nearly running over my foot, before I could thank her again.

Maybe this is just what I needed. I don’t really believe in fate, but this was one hell of a coincidence. Maybe I can get through this.

 

I can hear talking outside my door, but have learned not to get my hopes up. It’s probably not for me, or about me.

My butt is numb and my feet have fallen asleep. They need better seats if they’re gonna keep people in here for this long, however long I’ve been in here. Yeah, still no damn clock. I could use a snack, too.

The doorknob twists, and in walks another detective. He’s much smaller, and smells much better. Why couldn’t he be my interrogator?

“Get up, punk a*s.” OK, so he’s not so nice. But at least he didn’t take the chair out from under me and throw it across the room. It’s the little things.

“Where are you taking me? Am I free to go?”

He scoffed, “Yeah right. We have someone here to identify you?” I became paralyzed, unable to move. Can it be Maggie?? Did they get ahold of her that fast? They work more efficiently than I thought. Finally, one step closer to freedom.

“Who is it?”

“Like I give a s**t. I’m just here to move you to the tank so everyone can watch you go down for this crime when that ditz can’t identify you.”

Wait, what does he mean ditz? Who is here? Did Maggie send someone else?

We walk through the precinct, and all eyes are on me. I finally find a clock. 11:38 a.m. I have been here for more than 12 hours. God it’s nice to know what time it is again. Across the office I see the tank; it’s an interrogation room with a huge two way mirror that the entire office can look into. My heart sinks. There, standing in the tank, is Maggie. Finally. I started walking faster, and the detective yanked me by my collar.

“Pipe down skippy, she ain’t going nowhere.”

We approach the door, and my heart is racing. The detective gives two firm knocks on the metal door, and the detective originally interrogating me opens the door with a clenched jaw.

“Stand against the wall, and don’t try anything smart.”

I nod my head in compliance. I’m so close to freedom I can taste it. I’ll be out in time for lunch and a beer.

“Ms. Sampson-”

“Please, call me Maggie.” She flashed a smile, and then looked at me. I’m sweating with excitement.

The detective looked up, unamused. “Ms. Sampson, can you please tell me if you know this man.”

Maggie furrowed her brow, and raised one eyebrow. Why does she look so confused? This was not the plan. Something isn’t right here. “I’m sorry, no. I don’t believe we’ve met. Should I know him?”

Did she just say that? I’m going to vomit. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I mean, I guess I can. Is this karma for all of the lies I have told over the years? This is what I get for always having to lie. She’s going to screw me over.

“No ma’am, that’s all we needed. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Maggie got up and left, smirking at me as she passed. Damnit. This was not how this was supposed to end!  The detective turned to me, and smiled.
“I got you now, ya b*****d. You almost had me for a second. I should have known that you couldn't tell the truth."

I've been played. Maggie lied to me, just as I lie to everyone else. Now what do I do?

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer. I like the twist in the tale and the flow of thoughts in the story. You create interesting place and character. I liked the internal thoughts leading to proper ending. Thank you for sharing the outstanding story.
Coyote