Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done." (12 page)

“Got it, Captain.”

“Now, I want you to walk into the computer store, politely hand him the card, say something to the effect that you applaud his driving skills, then ask him to call Detective Dryer, and then simply walk away. Do you understand? Nothing more, nothing less!”

“Uh…what?”

“You heard me—just do it!”

“Yes, Captain,” Poulet replies, confused.

“Then go back to your car and follow him wherever he goes and keep us updated.”

“Uh, Captain, I’ll do it just like you said, but I probably couldn’t follow an old lady across the bingo hall in this car. You’re going to have to send us a new one.”

“Done. And good work—that’s to the both of you.”

Officer Poulet doesn’t even attempt to explain the conversation to his partner; he simply follows Captain Jackson’s orders. After completing the task as requested, he adds his own personal touch, releasing about half of the pressure in all four of Joshua’s tires.

.

Chapter Fifteen

M
isty Lakewoods, Captain Jackson’s secretary, resumes her position behind her desk, disheartened. She’s just missed another opportunity to ask for a raise, a monetary promotion that she not only deserves, but which is long overdue. She has worked for him for two years now and is probably the most professional secretary he’s ever had—efficient, never late, and not pretty enough to be a distraction. Rumor has it that previous secretaries were. It’s something she’s wondered about from time to time—whether her undesirability got her the job in the first place.

Anyway, she never had a chance. He jetted into his office with Janice Dryer so fast she wouldn’t of had time to ask him for a piece of gum. Their only communication was that of him giving her very simple orders that if Joshua Siconolfi calls, to patch him straight through.

Inside his office he gives Janice orders, saying, “If he calls, number one, do not tell him you’re a psychologist—today you are Detective Dryer.”

“But—”

“No buts. Now, number two, do not let him onto any information we have. And number three, if you can’t get him to talk, at least find out what the fuck that crazy devil poem means—it’s been driving me nuts.”

“Okay…well, sounds easy enough. I plan to play into his need for recognition. You understand he feeds off of control and dominance over others. A lot of it stems from early childhood; his father was most likely abusive or absent in his early years or was never—”

“All right, all right—enough! I believe in you Janice, and who knows, maybe this just might work.” He then pulls a bottle of bourbon from his desk and pours himself a glass. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I don’t drink.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you’re a recovering alcoholic?”

“No, I drink, just rarely,” she replies, with a kind of nerdy charm.

He smiles to himself and swallows a mouthful, then sits back and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the alcohol. Janice also takes a rest, mindlessly looking about his office. And in the passing minutes, they settle themselves. The room is quiet, so quiet in fact they can hear the phone ring at Misty’s desk. They both listen closely.

“Captain Jackson’s office.” There’s a pause. “I’ll put you straight through.”

“No shit. Are you ready?” he asks, looking to her, somewhat in disbelief.

“Yes,” she replies, with a nervous smile and a hesitant voice.

Misty’s voice comes across the intercom. “Joshua Siconolfi is on line one.”

Janice takes a purifying breath in preparation, while Captain Jackson slurps another drink. Then he types a five-digit code into his desktop phone, activating its internal recording device, plugs in a headset, and hands the receiver to Janice. He says to her, as composed as possible, “All right, do your thing,” and presses the flashing button.

“Hi, Joshua, this is Detective Janice Dryer. How are you doing today?” she asks politely.

“I’m doing great, lady. What do you want?” His tone is sharp and juvenile, but not what she’d expected; somehow she had anticipated the evil-sounding madman from the radio show.

“Well, I’m sure you can appreciate the fact that many of us down here at the station see a stark connection between your wife being reported as a missing person and the radio call you made last week. And some of my coworkers have even suggested the wild notion of arresting you for something and interrogating you. I said that I didn’t think of you as the kind of man who would shy away from any questioning or
hide
behind an attorney. I told them you are an intelligent man who knows he will have to answer these questions sooner or later, and that you’d prefer to do it on your terms.” Then Janice alters to a flirtatious tone. “Basically, what I’m saying is that I would like to meet…I mean, interview you.”

“What’s in it for me?” Joshua replies smartly.

“Well, this way you can say that you’re cooperating—that you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Hmmm…What are you wearing, lady?”

“What?”

“I asked you what you are wearing. What color are your panties?” he says, his voice more demanding than inquiring.

“That is none of your business,” she replies, genuinely offended.

“Well, doesn’t quite sound like a great offer, Janice. Tabatha Sterns offered me an interview to set the record straight, and she would’ve come to my house and made me dinner if I so requested,” he replies smugly. “And by the way, hers are black silk.”

“Well, that’s real nice, Joshua…But listen: I believe you need to answer some questions. And I’m sure you would agree it would be in your best interest if you just came in of your own accord. To go on the record, rather than the newspapers printing some distorted facts from an arresting officer. Remember Detective Cools?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, how would you like the media running with his version of the events?”

There’s a pause. Then Janice strikes again. “We should give them
your
version— that is, unless you’re fearful of something. But you don’t seem to be the timid type.”

There’s another long pause. She can hear him breathing, the same malevolent panting she heard on the news. Then in a more sinister voice, his real voice, he asks, “Do you know Detective Cools?”

“Yeah…I know Detective Cools.”

“Good. I would like to hear you say, ‘Detective Cools missed his chance.’”

The statement stuns her. Her mind runs wild considering what he means. Is he saying Kimberly was there? Was her dead body in the house?

“Say it, Janice!” he demands.

“And if I do?”

“Then we both get what we ask for.”

She wastes no time and replies verbatim, “Detective Cools missed his chance.”

Joshua lets out an eerie laugh and says, “Does seven o’clock work for you?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

Still chuckling, he says, “There’s just one more thing.”

“What? You name it.”

“I think I did it!”

Her heart flutters; she feels faint, dizzy; she is not even sure she wants to ask the next question. “You did what, Joshua?”

“I will enlighten you later, as you will enlighten me regarding the color I asked for!” He hangs up.

Janice trembles in her seat. She holds the phone out to Captain Jackson, saying, “I think I will take that drink now.”

“Yeah, all right, anything for you. That was the most amazing thing I ever heard. You did good, Janice—real good.” He pours her a drink and watches her gulp it down. “Ha-ha. Are you sure you’re not an alcoholic?”

“No,” she replies. “That creep makes me so nervous. I am just so glad it’s over. And correct me if I’m wrong, but did he just say, ‘I think I did it’?”

“That’s what he said.”

“I thought I was going to drop the phone. But he couldn’t possibly be arrogant enough to believe he can admit to it outright. He’s up to something. I’m just not sure as to what.”

“Oh, he’s up to something all right, but it won’t work. Let me tell you how this all plays out: the more they say, the more information we get, the more we can use against them. We just simply have to keep ’em talking.”

“Okay, then I guess I’m a real crime cracker.”

“Yes, you are,” he says, and smiles at her. He can see that she’s still shaken.

“I’m going to go home now and get into a soothing bubble bath—maybe even stop and get some more alcohol,” she says, hoping with everything she has that this is all finished for her.

Captain Jackson blows out a hearty breath and tells her, “Janice, I’m not gonna lie to you: you’re gonna do the interview.”

“No, I cannot! You can use Michelle; voices sound different over the phone, and…. and she can listen to the recording, so she knows what was said.”

Captain Jackson pauses, sees the worry in her eyes, and tries to console her. “You know you have to.” She doesn’t resist any further, just slumps back, dismayed, staring at the wall. He gives her a halfhearted pep talk, trying to instill courage. But deep down, they both know his words are disingenuous at best. The real truth be told, Joshua Siconolfi even scares the shit out of him.

.

Chapter Sixteen

“W
ell, the news begins anew. I’m Sheppard Smith in studio B, and the news starts now.

“You’re not going to believe this: new discoveries in a story we played last week. Remember Joshua Siconolfi—sure you do—the guy who called a live local radio station and did, well, what sounded like murdering his wife. You may also remember, though, how the whole thing was put to bed, due to the fact that his wife—his stripper wife, might I add—was as safe as a stripper can be inside a stripper bar. Now it turns out, the coworker lied when she confirmed her whereabouts.

“So let’s break it down. Joshua Siconolfi was excused for his exploits— pranks, as it seems—because his exotic-dancing wife was all safe and sound well after the fact. But now, new reports say she was missing
before
the incident. And this changes everything, not to mention raises a few questions.

“So the cops look into it and find out the wife—by the way, her name is Kimberly—also had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend: he was the deputy mayor of Tacoma. I say
was
, because—and check this out—when police went to his home to ask him some questions, he apparently had committed suicide. Do I have your attention now? You can’t make this stuff up. And why does Scott Peterson come to mind? So we go now to our correspondent, live in Seattle.”

“Hi, Shep; Anthony Westlake here. I’m standing outside the Siconolfi residence. We have not seen him yet, but earlier today, from one of our sister stations, Tabatha Sterns reported he was involved in some kind of high-speed chase with police. And we’ve also learned from neighbors that the Siconolfi’s had a rocky relationship, telling us that authorities have been called to this home on many occasions for domestic violence and out-of-control parties. Also, Shep, we’re being told that Joshua did time for third degree vehicular assault on a former girlfriend.”

Sheppard recaps, “So we have strippers, lies, felonies, high-speed car chases, suicide, and maybe even murder…wow!” A picture pops up. “And you’re looking now at one Joshua Siconolfi on the screen. Good-looking guy isn’t he? And I’m sure we’ll be hearing more on this. I wish I could spend more time, but as it turns out, there’s other news.

“Remember the bailout package for Chrysler and GM? You know; we were told that Congress was going to—”

Captain Jackson clicks off the television. Looking anxiously around the war room, he asks, “All right, is everyone here?” After another quick glance around and a few acknowledgments, he holds a hand out, presenting Janice, who grudgingly smiles from ear to ear. He begins, “All right, here’s the deal. Joshua’s coming in. Janice’s plan worked, and she’s gonna interview him. He will know her as ‘Detective’ Janice Dryer.” He looks at his watch. “He should be here at seven o’clock.” Every face in the room expresses surprise. “Now, I have to give a press conference no later than eight. So give me something guys. Cools, Robertson, what do you got?”

“Not much, Captain,” Michelle begins, “except for a few sordid facts about Kimberly. Turns out she was kinda weird; she followed some kind of ancient Egyptian religion: Ra. Also she talked of violence a lot. And I don’t know what this means, but she left a message on Trace’s phone stating that she tested positive for HIV eight days ago.”

“Yes, we already heard this.”

“I know,” Michelle continues, “but she and Amberly were tested on the same day at Washington Medical Center. And they were both negative.” She holds a piece of paper in her hand. “This is Kimberly’s test result, left behind in the floorboard of Amberly’s car.”

“So why would she lie?” asks Officer Smithe.

“I don’t know; I really haven’t any idea,” she replies, appearing perplexed. Officer Smithe makes a notation and leaves it at that.

Then Cools jumps in, adding, “I remember hearing something about the god Ra in preparation to Joshua’s assault trial, from a statement made by—oh what was her name?” He clicks his thumb and finger together, trying to snap her name from midair. “I just read it—oh, Sherry—Sherry Hill. She told of his religious practices. And I know this is going to sound gross, but one of the rituals he performs is where he ejaculates into a golden urn and places it into a fire, where it is burned as an offering.”

This at once appalls everyone in the room; mouths drop wide open; even Captain Jackson, who thought he’d heard it all, nervously scratches his scalp. Michelle stares down at her feet, shaking her head, while Janice loses color and appears to almost get sick. She holds her hand over her mouth and coughs, losing confidence, worrying even more about what she’s gotten herself into.

“That is so wrong,” Detective Fredo says, trying to fit in.

“All right, Detective Fredo, what did you get out of Maggie?” Captain Jackson asks abruptly, wanting to move along, at the same time catching Janice’s dispirited aura. Her apparent weakness conflicts him greatly, to the point that, even at this late state in the game, he rethinks using her. To him she seems scholastically gifted but lacking the street smarts she’ll surely need. He also senses he is not the only one who shares his sentiment.