Elster's World

Sunday, October 09, 2005

The Interview - Part II

[Writer's Note: Part II of the Interview is actually the begining of one of my dozens of unfinished projects, started about 3 or 4 years ago. I was thinking about posting it here the other day but decided it needed a litte "back story". Thus, The Interview Part I was born. I am not posting the original story verbatim. I have made changes to make it fit better with Part I and to make it suck less than it did when I originally wrote it (I hope). Enjoy]

Cornelious Brown sat in an interrogation room down at the 19th Precinct. It looked pretty much like all such cells in precincts everywhere; stained linoleum floors, metal walls and the only furniture being a metal table which was bolted to the floor and three heavy metal chairs. There was also a big mirror, which Brown knew went two ways. As he sat in silence, he lifted his middle finger at whoever might be watching.

"I guess he ain't gonna get all intimidated just sitting there," Charlie Spangler said. "Let's go roust him and see what he says."

Spangler and Murphy entered the room. Brown looked at them cooly. Murphy took the seat acroos the table from Brown but Spangler continued to stand by the door.

"Whatever it was y'all think I did, I ain't did," Cornelious said.

Murphy took the lead. "We haven't even asked you anything yet, C. Take a chill."

"I'm just lettin' y'all know in advance is all."

"How about we start with an easy one C. Where were you yesterday, say between 9 and eleven?"

Brown smirked. "Would that be am or pm?"

Murphy sighed, as though he suffered from a deep, uncureable weariness. "Look Cornelious, we can do this hard or easy, it's up to you."

"That's a real original line for a cop Murphy. You guys need some new scriptwriters."

Spangler pushed himself away from the wall and approached the table. "Look, Dumbass, someone put three slugs from a .45 in your dealer partner's head. There was enough blood to have about four seperate vodoo ceremonies. Trust me, old Vernon's gonna have a closed casket at his wake. Now, who do you think we'd make for the number one suspect?"

Brown shook his head. "Shit man, Vernon's got more enemies than Martin Luther King, Jr. at a KKK rally. Don't be trying to pass off this crap on me. Y'all mind if I smoke?"

Murphy shrugged. "Kill yourself."

Brown took a crumpled package of Marlboro's from his coat pocket and Murphy leaned across the table to light it for him with a cheap plastic lighter.

"What can you tell us about the murder?" he asked.

Brown laughed. "Come on, man. What makes you think I know anything about 'em? And even if I did, why would I tell you anything? Helping out cops isn't exactly good for my business, you know."

Spangler came around the table and knocked the butt from Brown's mouth. He leaned very close and grabbed his coat with both hands. "You listen to me you puke. I don't give a crap that Hart got it. That scumbag had it coming. In my opinion, so do you. But we both know that you know something about it. And you aren't walking out of this room until you spill it. You reading me on this?"

Brown stared at him defiantly. 'So you playing the Bad Cop this week, huh? Do you take turns or were you just born for it Spangler?"

Murphy glanced at his partner. "That's enough Charlie. Take a break, ok."

"Yeah, yeah," Spanger said. He released Brown's coat and walked to the door. "I'm going to get some air. This puke stinks to high heaven." The he left, the door clicking shut behind him, the sound heavy in the silence of the room.

It was no secret that Brown was deep in pretty much every drug deal that went down in the Bronx and Brooklyn. He also was well connected with all the major players in the drug trade. Brown was so plugged in, he often knew about crimes before they were actually committed. Which is why he was sitting in this uncomfortable chair, in this room that hung with the stench of unwashed men, cigarettes and fear.

Murphy looked at him for a long time without speaking, as though he had something on Cornelious which he hadn't yet put on the table. Brown held the gaze then finally broke the connection.

"You're a two time loser, C-Brown. You know what that means, right? The next time you go down, you go for the full roll. And the time after that, you get life in the box my man. Right now, we got you on attempted kidnapping with attempted forced prostitution. We know where you were gonna take those girls."

Brown was shaking his head. "You don't know nothing man. You can't make that stick and you know it. You won't even be able to find those two bitches again."

Murphy shrugged. "Maybe yes, maybe no. You want to take that chance? You'll do down in general lockup, Cornhole. A good looking guy like yourself, you know what they'll do to you? They're gonna take you apart. You'll be anyone's screw in there. Is that what you want?"

Brown started to look uncertain. "Look man, I want my lawyer. Right now." he looked at the mirror. "Y'all hear that?" he shouted, "I want my freaking lawyer."

"You don't need a lawyer. You need to give me a name. Just a name. Then you walk out of here. We don't want you, we want the guy who did Hart. No one will know where it came from. No one even knows you are here. Be smart Cornelious. Drop a dime and make for the hills. Besides, you two were in bed together. Whoever did this to him might have eyes for you next."

Brown sat silently for a long time, weighing options that both seemed to have consequences he didn't want to face. He rubbed his hands over his face and stood up. "Here's my answer man. I'm walking out of here right now. This is a bullshit roust and you know it. You wanna keep me here, arrest my ass. But I'm not saying another word without a lawyer. In fact, I might just sue you guys for illegal detainment or whatever. You reading me on that man?" Then he walked to the door, opened it, and walked out.

Murphy made no move to stop him. Sometimes even the lowest man on the pisspole held a full house. He looked at the mirror and shrugged.


  • solid man, really solid. You do quality work elster, easy to say but it has gotts just be a matter of time. gmar chasima tova.

    By Blogger The Real Neo, at 3:36 PM  

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