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Authors: Scott Hildreth

BOOK: Dick
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TWENTY-FIVE

Jess

10:40 p.m. the day of the heist

I
stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I didn’t want to go back into the interrogation room, I wanted to buy some more time.

“You
do realize it’ll be in your best interest to tell us everything you know, right?” Necktie asked.

I shot him a confused look. “I don’t
know
shit. I’m fucking drunk.”

“I know some things,” he said with sarcastic tone. “I know you’re in a hell of a mess.”

“I danced with some hot guy. I tried to buy a diamond. I got up to pee, and my fucking head started spinning. I peed and thought I was good to go, and halfway back to my seat, I got a case of bubble guts. I went outside for fresh air. No crimes committed,
Officer.”

“There’s more to it than that. Your story might change when we get back in the interrogation room.”

“What about that coffee?” I asked.

My tongue felt dry and calloused. I repeatedly pressed it to the roof of my mouth to try and clean it off, but each time I felt like I was going to puke as a result. Coffee wouldn’t cure me, but it damned sure couldn’t hurt.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“10:40.”

He got me my coffee, and I followed him back to the interrogation room. He pushed the door open, and upon entering the room, I got two nice little surprises.

One, Tribideaux was waiting.

And two, I identified the smell that caused my nostrils to flare in the supper club.

Cinnamon. 

I acted uninterested in Tribideaux’s presence. “It smells like fucking Christmas in here,” I said.

“Sit down,” Porn ‘stache demanded.

I tried to steady my cup of coffee. “I’m working on it.”

I sat down and glanced at each of the three men. I had no idea where they were going to go with the conversation, so I decided to start my own.

I shot Tribideaux a sultry grin. “Did you bring the diamond?”

“Shut up, I’m asking the questions. Mrs. Preston Wheeler, my ass. Where’s your I.D.?” Tribideaux snapped.

I took a sip of my coffee and tried not to smile. “I have no idea.”

“Where’s the diamond?” he asked.

There were two too many mustaches in the room. I turned to the side and tried to focus on the necktie-wearing cop. “I gave it to my attorney when I went to the bathroom.”

Necktie slapped his hand against the edge of the table. “What did you do with the diamond?”

I wasn’t scared of their good cop – bad cop routine. I met his gaze with my best drunken laser sharp glare. “Weren’t you listening?”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Lying to an officer in the course of an investigation. Five years. Theft of a $4,000,000 diamond. Ten years. Obstruction of justice. Twenty-four months. Want me to continue?”

I took a sip of coffee and wondered where Seton was. I didn’t like hearing how many years they were going to lock me up for. Even if it was bullshit.

I held his gaze for as long as I could. “No.”

He straightened his posture and nodded his head toward Tribideaux. “Let me introduce Federal Agent Whitmire. You might know him as Tribideaux. Your world is preparing to collapse, little girl. Do you know what they do to girls like you in prison?”

My mouth went dry. I turned toward Tribideaux-Whitmire and tried to swallow, but got nothing but dust.

I took a sip of coffee and tried to force a smile. My face contorted into a drunken smirk.

Tribideaux-Whitmire crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You are in the middle of a joint investigation between the FBI, the state of Texas, and US Marshall Service regarding large-scale thefts and the money that is being laundered as a result of said thefts. Life. To the bitter end. That is what we’re talking about, not ten or fifteen measly years. Your cute little ass will rot in prison. Now I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to provide answers, understand?”

I nodded.

“18 USC, section 1001. Lying to a Federal Officer in the course of an investigation. It’ll get you 120 months. That’s ten years, not five. All you have to do is tell me one little lie. Just one. No matter what else happens here tonight, if you lie once to
me
, you’ll go away for a dime piece.”

He leaned over the table and got so close I could feel his breath. “You look pale, little girl. Are you scared?”

I was. But I trusted Dick. I shook my head in support of my claim. “No.”

“You should be.”

I took a sip of coffee. “I’m scared of mustaches.”

The look on his face confirmed he didn’t appreciate my sense of humor. “Who’s the guy in the Ferrari?”

I shrugged. “Some guy I was wanting to fuck.”

That wasn’t a lie at all.

He shook his head in disgust. “What is his name?”

I glanced at the clock. 10:50. I needed to buy some time. Ten minutes if Seton was on time.

“His name?”

“Yes, god damn it, his name.”

“Dick.”

So far, I was on a roll for telling the truth.

He reached up and twisted his mustache between his thumb and index finger. I glanced at Necktie. His mouth was curled into a perma-grin. My eyes drifted to Porn ‘stache. He was scratching his nuts and staring at the dirt under his fingernails.

Tribideaux-Whitmire broke the awkward silence. “When you snuck outside, you had your purse. Where’s your purse now?”

“I don’t know.”

I did a mental fist pump. Hell, it was easy not lying.

“Did you leave it in the car?”

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t leave it anywhere. I was pushed out into the street and was almost trampled to death by two fucking Clydesdales.”

Also true. The death by slow-moving Clydesdales was a matter of opinion, but I doubted he could prove beyond a shadow of doubt to a court of law that I wasn’t in danger.

I chocked it up as another truthful response.

The door swung open. “Legal counsel for the lady,” an officer said.

I turned toward the voice.

Seton.

Thank God.

Seton reached into his pocket, removed a small gold case, and tossed three business cards on the table. It was time for shit to get real, and I was ready.

He brushed the lapels of his suit coat. “Gentlemen, Seton Allen Hallsworth, Esquire. The questioning will now be directed to me, and my client will only respond to questions I advise her to be in her best legal interest.”

“You phony turd,” Tribideaux-Whitmire said. “One of you two fuck-nuggets switched out the diamond on me.”

“An accusation such as that will not be taken lightly, Sir. Your diamond didn’t check out as being authentic. That, Sir, cannot be refuted. For the safety of my client, and in anticipation of being swindled, I recorded the entire conversation,” Seton said.

He reached into his jacket, removed a small device, and pressed his thumb against it.

“As long as this diamond checks out.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it to your satisfaction.”

“The tester appears to be malfunctioning. I can’t get an accurate reading. It’s telling me the stone is a fake. Let’s proceed under the belief that everything checks out.”

“How sad.”

“Would you like to see it?”

“Is a pig’s ass made of pork?”

He pressed his thumb against it again, stopping it. He grinned and placed the recorder in his inner jacket pocket.

Tribideaux-Whitmire looked angry. “The diamond was authentic.”

“Federal Rule of Evidence Rule 901,” Seton said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Otherwise known as the Authentication of Identification Rule, requires that the chain of custody for evidence be maintained. I’ll ask, Good Sir, if you could provide the chronological support to me for review.”

I had no idea what he was saying, but I really liked what everyone’s faces did.

Hashtag sad face.

A hand hit the table. “That fucking diamond was authentic.”

I looked up. Agent Tribideaux-Whitmire looked as though he swallowed a spoonful of something bitter.

“According to my tester, Sir, it was not. My tester wasn’t checked prior to our meeting, and could certainly be out of calibration, but there is no law in place to require me to test it or to calibrate it. There is, however such law in place to require you, Sir, to prove you had the diamond tested prior to the meeting. If you are unable to prove its authenticity was verified prior to the meeting, as a matter of law you may not claim its inauthenticity following the meeting.”

Silence.

“Based on your allegations, I would have assumed the diamond
was
tested prior to the meeting,” Seton said. “However, your three somber faces tell me otherwise.”

Tribideaux-Whitmire cleared his throat. “I think your tester works just fine, and you’re full of shit, Counselor.”

Seton coughed a light laugh. “My tester is not the subject of this discussion; your chain of evidence is. For the sake of entertainment, have you the stone?”

Tribideaux-Whitmire looked sick. He reached into his jacket pocket. The cloth and stone were produced.

Seton reached into his pocket, removed the tester, and poked the diamond with a small prod. A red light illuminated. He turned the tester toward each of the officers. They acted uninterested.

Porn ‘stache scratched his nuts.

“I will ask one last time.” Seton sighed and placed the tester in his pocket. “Did you check your stone for authenticity immediately prior to the meeting, and if your response is
yes
, I need to see the document supporting said test as well as the credentials of the person who performed the test.

“Fuck you, Counselor,” Tribideaux-Whitmire said.

“As I suspected.” Seton reached for my hand. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“This isn’t over,” Porn ‘stache warned.

“As a matter of law,” Seton said. “It is over. Any questions for this client will henceforth be directed to me. Without the authentication for the diamond, the only crime committed is detaining my client. Any attempts to question her will be considered harassment, and will be met with a civil action lawsuit against the state and the federal government.”

I stood up, reached for my coffee, and drank it in one gulp. “Gentlemen.”

Seton motioned toward the door. “After you.”

And, just like that, all my worries washed away.

TWENTY-SIX

Dick

“OH
my God,” Jess gasped as soon as she walked into the house. “What happened?”

My face, neck, shoulders, and arms were covered in blood. “I was attacked,” I said.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Seton breathed. “You look like death.”

“Believe me,” I said. “Whatever it looks like, it feels worse.”

“Knife fight?” Jess asked as she got closer.

Embarrassed, I shook my head. “The leopard.”

Jess laughed. “The spotted cat? It attacked you?”

I nodded. “It’s evil. If I can find it, it’s going up for auction.”

“The fucker growled the entire time it was in my car, I can say that much,” Seton said.

I turned toward Jess and opened my arms. “So, it sounds like everything went good. No surprises?”

Seton shook his head. “Just as I suspected, they couldn’t prove that they maintained a chain of evidence. Without proof that they tested the diamond immediately prior to the meeting, they couldn’t accuse us of switching it. Ninety percent of the time they can’t prove a maintained chain of evidence.”

“Interesting.”

Jess hugged me. I wanted to kiss her, but my face felt like it was afire. Covered with small – and large – lacerations, I looked like I had been in a knife fight with a hundred Ninja masters.

“You look awful,” she said.

“Forget me. Your performance in this thing was top fucking notch,” I said. “When you rolled out of the car, I almost died laughing. Out there in the middle of the street with your arms and legs stretched out…”

“I was trying to take up the entire street. I wanted to make sure they couldn’t get past me.” She chuckled. “And they didn’t.”

“And what about those fucking horses.” I chuckled. “When you screamed ‘horse!’ I about shit.”

“Horse!” she screeched.

The three of us shared a laugh.

I caught my breath and looked at Seton. “Did we learn how the fuck they got the diamond? Who attacked me at the jewelers?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t yet.”

Jess’ eyes shot wide and she gasped. “I almost forgot. The man with the mustache from the soup kitchen was the man at the supper club. He’s a Federal Agent. Whitmire. Anyway, guess fucking what?”

“What?”

“Well,” she said. “When we were at the supper club, I kept smelling something and it was about to make me sick. Every time I leaned over to talk to mustache man, it would make my nose burn. I didn’t get it at first, but when I walked into the interrogation room after I peed, I smelled it again. Guess what the mustache man smelled like?”

I shrugged. “What?”

“Cinnamon!”

I shrugged again. “And…”

“Beer Belly. The cinnamon house.”

I nodded. “Interesting. We’ll need to look into that. I’m guessing someone got to him, though. Turned him into a snitch.”

“Agreed,” Seton said.

“So where’s the cat?”

“I have no idea. I opened the cage, and it jumped out and just sat down. It looked like it was breathing pretty heavy, and I figured it was scared so I reached down to pick it up. As soon as I touched it, it started swinging its paws at me. Next thing I knew, I was covered in blood and it was gone.”

Jess laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just. It’s a
cat
. I can’t believe it did that to you.”

I felt I needed to correct her. It wasn’t a cat. Not even close. “It’s a thirty-pound
leopard
. They said it’ll get up to fifty pounds.”

She studied my cuts and shook her head. “And you haven’t seen it since?”

I shook my head. “Not once.”

“Did you put some food out for it?”

“That’s another thing. All it can eat is raw chicken.”

“What? Raw meat?”

“Chicken. That’s it. I bought some the other day, it’s in the fridge.”

She laughed. “I’ll put some out. I’m guessing you found the diamond?”

“On the floorboard of the car. I was scared for a minute when I didn’t find it in your purse.”

“I’m so glad this worked out,” she said.

“All I know is I feel like I can only trust two people, and I can’t believe Seton’s one of ‘em,” I said.

Seton cleared his throat. “All my debts are resolved?”

I nodded. “We’re straight.”

“Okay, then fuck you on your shitty remark. There’ll be no more free legal advice.”

“And there’ll be no more loans to support your gambling,” I said. “Your guaranteed pay-offs aren’t very guaranteed, asshole.”

Jess walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and got out the package of chicken. She smiled as she opened a drawer and got a knife. When she got a plate out of the cupboard, I realized she had been in my home enough that she knew where everything was, and I found an odd comfort in knowing that she did.

I had never allowed anyone to grow as close to me as Jess, and seeing her prepare the leopard’s food made me view her in a more maternal sense. I shook it off as being a sleep deprived state-of-mind that I would not have possessed otherwise.

“Seton,” I said. “I’m taking the diamond to the safe, and I’m going to grab you $100,000 for your quick thinking on this deal. Don’t gamble it away.”

“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that,” he said.

“And after I give it to you, you’re going to leave. I’m tired, and I’m ready for bed.”

“What about me?” Jess asked.

I turned around. “You? You’re staying. We’re going to have some celebratory sex.”

“I just have to stay off my knees,” she said. “They’re still pretty banged up.”

“Duly noted,” I said with a laugh.

My sexual interest in Jess had changed so much since we met. I went from wanting to shove her full of dick just to claim her as another notch on my belt to wanting to have sex with her because I cared for her deeply.

I couldn’t pinpoint the moment things changed, but I really didn’t feel the need to. It simply seemed when she found out what I was involved in that she accepted not only my chosen profession, but me. Immediately following, things within me began to change.

I walked to the safe, placed the diamond inside, and grabbed ten $10,000 stacks of the drug money.

Halfway to the door, I stopped.

I turned around, returned the drug money to the safe, and grabbed ten stacks of $10,000 in
clean
money.

I locked the safe, walked to the door, and looked around the room.

Something in me
had
changed.

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