Authors: S. W. Frank
“Why is my client being questioned
?”
Detective
Higgins
spoke, “We’re investigating a homicide.”
Martin nodded impatiently, “And
my client
’s alleged
link
to your homicide
,
is
what exactly
?”
“We believe he may have some information
that might be helpful in the case.”
“
Oh, you believe
…thus, not
sure
. S
peculation,
no physical evidence…does that about sum it up
?”
“Your client is on video surveillance leaving a nightclub minutes before the victims.”
Martin’s eyes widened in disbelief and his knives came out, “
A homicide or
homicides
, because you said
victims
?”
“Well, there was more than one victim.”
“I see. And because my client was at a nightclub and is seen leaving before the
victims
, he’s considered a suspect?”
“We’
d appreciate if your client could tell us what happened after he left the club. Did he have an altercation with
anyone?
The bruise on his face wasn’t visible on the tape when he was seen leaving the club, so it had to happen sometime after, isn’t that right Mister Diaz?”
My client cannot help you and frankly bringing him down here for this bullshit may constitute harassment.”
Detective Winoski slid her
chair
forward, behind her pretty smile an arsenal of tricks. “Your client knew one of the victims, his car was seen speeding away after the murders,
I think he can help us a lot,
” her voice held honey as she looked at his client, “
wh
y not help us catch who sho
t your friends, what do you say, after-all
you’re a law abiding citizen
and they usually
cooperate and
help
police
apprehend
violent crim
inals
, isn’t that right
Alfonzo?”
Alfonzo
leaned
over the table, unabashedly gazing at
Winoski’s
cleavage
which was
on
full
display, “
There are
plenty
of law abiding people
around here
,
except
most of
the
cooperative
ones
you’re
referring to
live out in the suburbs
where most of you
officers
hail from.
” He grinned, “
The
y’re
your
neighbors
and
friends
;
people you
give
respect. You
officers
hang out
at
bars
getting smashed
with them
, driv
ing
drunk
, breaking
the
law all the time –
but
w
hen Officer Shithead’s
eighteen year-old
son
Jimmy is smoking weed outside the Seven-Eleven
or
seen
driving a luxury car with a
blown headlight
he’s not hauled off to jail
and
treated like a criminal.
T
he
second
you
get here and don that
colored
uniform
,
you’re
as bad as
gangbangers. You
roll through my
‘hood threatening
people
. A
ll th
e
courtesy and respect
you g
a
ve Jimmy
goes out the window. So, those police
psychology
handbooks
you study
don’t work
on me.
W
here I’ve been you
don’t need a book to
learn
how to read people –and
oh
b
y the way, button your blouse, it’s
distracting and
unprofessional
, don’t you think?
”
“You
filthy dog
, you’re really a piece of shit
!”
Higgins exclaimed
, getting
to his feet, “Get the hell out of here before I lock you the fuck up!”
Alfonzo sneered, “
Filthy dog, piece of shit
, nice choice of words
, detective
. Guess name-calling, stereotyping and racial profiling is
in
the incompetent polic
e
handbook
. If I were you I’d
b
e careful,
the pointy
white
hood is slipping off
,
” then
he
pushed back his chair
smoothly to stand
.
Martin
rose,
less
gracefully. H
is chair scrap
ed
the floor
making an ear-splitting screeching
noise
. He tossed the detectives a
few
parting words
,
“Next time
you bring
my client
here for
questioning
for amusement, I’m filing a complaint.”
U
nfazed
by the threat
,
Winoski responded.
“I strongly suggest you try to stick
around
for a few days Mister Diaz, we don’t want to waste taxpayer resources searching for you.”
“
Unbelievable, unless my client is charged with a crime, he’s free to return home any time he wants.”
“You’re absolutely
right,
however, we might need to ask your client more questions
, leaving may imply he has something to hide
.”
“
B
ook a flight to Puerto Rico or call him on the goddamn phone. We’re leaving detectives, have a shitty day!”
Outside the precinct
, Alfonzo noticed the
Cirrostratus
Clouds;
an indication
rain
was coming
within twenty-four hours
.
Martin
suddenly
expressed his disgust with the police and their tactics, “Fucking
bullies.
You
’
r
e
seen leaving a club
before
the victims and
all they got is
a
car speeding away…incompetent assholes!
”
Selange pulled up
right on
cue
. He shook Martin’s hand.
“They bother you again, give me a call.”
The attorney said.
“You know it,”
Alfonzo replied then hurried to the awaiting car.
“I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”
Selange exclaimed
,
throwing the car in gear
the
instant
he
was
buckled in
.
Alfonzo laughed, “Shit, you sound like Anita.”
“
Well it’s
true;
anyway, what did they ask
?”
“Standard
stuff, trying
to get me talking
.”
She glanced at his profile, “You okay?”
“I’m good,”
Alfonzo drank in the scenery
as she drove through
El Barrio
.
This was his former stopping ground, the projects north of
Ninety-Sixth Street
.
The f
amiliar sights
slid by like images on a roll of film. T
he
y
traveled north on second avenue t
oward
one hundred and twenty-second street
.
They passed Taino Towers and she turned west on one hundred and twenty-fifth.
He
easily
spotted the hustlers
.
The grinding,
stomping asphalt,
making
moves –whatever
term
you
used was still happening.
T
ime
hadn’
t change
d
the action on the street
s
, only the players
.
He inhaled his wife’s floral perfume, turned his head to watch as she drove in silence. His mouth pursed
together tightly. Anita was
right,
Selange did lose a little
weight. He felt like shit for not taking better care of h
er
.
S
he was
running
around, trying to help clean up his mess, when she should be home resting.
T
oday he
planned
to
remedy the situation.