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‘Son of a gun. You were right,’ I blurted out to George after the initial shock dissipated.
Instantly, Jose was on the offense.
‘No. I said stop that. There is nobody there, and this won’t fly with me.’
‘Just because you can’t see them, it doesn’t mean they aren’t there,’ I replied.
He couldn’t find it in himself to reply to that. Which was lucky, because George spoke.
‘Probably best not to enrage him any further,’ he advised me. Yeah, well.
I took my seatbelt off and stretched out. Jose seemed pretty traumatized by me. He was sitting sideways, his head in his hands and elbows perched on his lap. Ronnie had the decency to move out of his way, but wasn’t thanked for his efforts. Some people are so rude.
‘I’d like to see some ID,’ I said.
Slowly, Jose turned to glare at me.
‘I know my rights,’ I insisted. George shook his head in dismay but I wasn’t to be budged. I’ve been bullied by more cops than I can count. If I’m going to be arrested, I’d like to at least know who by.
Jose reached under his seat and fiddled around for something, eventually coming up trumps with a wallet. Not taking his eyes off me, he tossed it my way; quite brutally I might add. With great dignity, I picked it up and flipped it open.
Miami Police Fla. read the badge. I’d seen a couple of those before to know that that part was legit. His photo matched up, and his name was Joseph Lyle Castro. He was a detective.
I kinda hoped he’d lied.
‘Thank you,’ I said, passing him his ID back.
‘Does it check out?’ Ronnie asked.
‘Yeah, it does,’ I replied softly.
Jose- whoops, Castro looked up at me, mildly befuddled.
‘What did you hope to gain from all this?’
‘Probably the same thing as you,’ I shrugged.
Wrong answer. His fists clenched as rage bubbled to the surface again. It was probably never far away.
‘My partner’s dead. Does that mean anything to you?’
‘Angela?’ I asked in surprise.
‘Not Angela,’ he said, his mouth contorting with the effort of saying her name. ‘George.’
For a second, I honestly thought he meant my George. And I was even more confused than he was. Then, it registered. The body delivered to my hotel room. The undercover cop. That I may have helped meet the reaper. That George.
‘I am genuinely sorry,’ I started, biting my tongue as George frantically began waving his hands at me.
‘For the love of God, don’t say “but,”’ he said hastily.
Yeah, he had a point. It probably wouldn’t have gone down well if I’d started claiming my technical innocence. So, I shut up after that, leaving Castro waiting for nothing.
‘Is that all you have to say?’ he asked.
‘Apparently so.’
‘You’re incredible,’ he sighed.
I’d been called that recently, too. I wasn’t sure either time was meant positively, now that I thought about it.
‘Yeah. Look, I’m sorry for how things have turned out. I never meant for any of this to happen,’ I apologized, wrapping it up. ‘I’m going to get on the first flight out of here and leave you to your work, whatever it is.’
Castro looked at me as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Okay, obviously I’d gotten the wrong end of the stick. I thought he’d wanted to yell at me some and then turf me out at the nearest airport. That’s what usually happened, anyway.
‘Destruction of property. Breaking and entering. Concealment of a body,’ he reeled off quietly, his voice breaking slightly at the last one. ‘And, I’m not fully certain of this, but accessory to murder.’
‘Uh, your door was open right now. I didn’t break in. I didn’t do that last one, and I already told the other cops that I was afraid.’
‘Yeah, you seem like a real cowardly individual from where I’m sitting.’
I didn’t like where this was going. I get it, he lost his buddy, but it wasn’t really my fault. He was undercover. He must’ve known the risks included murder. Unfortunately for Cop George, he found that out the hard way. That’s all. My conscience was clear.
‘I’ve heard about you, you know,’ Castro went on. ‘I know this isn’t the first time. You don’t need money, you don’t appear to want the fame. What do you want?’
Where all else fails, truth shall prevail.
‘I wanted to bring a killer to justice. Ronnie Higgins came to me a few days ago- actually, he’s sitting right there,’ I said, nodding to the passenger seat. Castro couldn’t help flinching. Let the record show, Ronnie waved. ‘He told me that his wife Angela killed him by whacking him over the head with a bottle and pushing him off the end of a pier. You know, the body that was found on the beach two days ago?’
Castro sat up at something I’d said.
‘Wait a second. That body was Ronald Higgins?’
‘That’s right,’ I nodded, glad I was finally being taken seriously.
‘Ronald went missing a couple months ago, and we didn’t know what happened to him.’
‘Well, you do now. He was walking with his wife at night, when she killed him. He was wearing speedos at the time,’ I noted.
‘Speedos? That’s pretty exact. Are you certain about that?’
‘Yep, pretty certain,’ I answered, forcing my eyes to not look again.
‘So, Ronnie’s here now? In the car,’ he clarified.
I was suspicious, of course, but he actually seemed interested. I felt like I was walking into a trap, but I couldn’t yet see it.
‘Yes, he is.’
‘Can you ask him something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Ask him where he went on February 18th.’
Dutifully, I turned to Ronnie, who had very capable hearing. More capable than his memory, apparently.
‘Bloody hell, I don’t even know what date it is now.’
‘It’s May 23rd,’ I told him. He spluttered.
‘I can’t even remember what I did yesterday, for crying out loud.’
‘Probably leered at women,’ George piped up.
‘He’s thinking about it,’ I told Castro, who gave me a friendly smile. I knew then that this was a trick I was doomed to fail. ‘Care to give him a little reminder as to what happened around that time?’
‘Sure. It was four days after Valentine’s,’ he grinned.
No help there, then.
‘Ronnie, I’m gonna need you to think real hard about this, alright?’
‘I’m trying, but it’s hard when you don’t sleep. It’s been one long day since I kicked it. I’ve walked to Mount Rushmore and back in that time. All I can tell is that it was around the time I died. I’m sorry, Brianna. Truly, I am.’
Sorry wouldn’t keep me warm in prison. It was with great trepidation that I turned to Castro and uttered the immortal words of every failed medium:
‘He doesn’t remember.’
Somebody was celebrating Christmas early. He lit up like the night sky, all aglow with smugness at being proved right.
‘Really? Well, isn’t that a coincidence? Let me remind you. That was the day that Ronald Higgins took a small, empty suitcase out of his hotel room and returned hours later without it.’
Man, I wonder where this was going?
‘You said you put the money in a briefcase,’ George frowned, as a car pulled up behind us. I didn’t need to turn around to see it was a police car.
‘Briefcase, suitcase. Same thing,’ Ronnie shrugged.
‘Okay, I see-’ I started.
‘We followed him as best we could. Our guy saw him go into a bank and withdraw his life savings. We lost him shortly afterward. But then, you come along with the answers!’
‘I know I said that-’ I said quickly, but not loudly enough as Castro talked over me.
‘Let me stop the tape a second and rewind, so we’re all on the same page here. Oh, by the way, you are being recorded. I guess I forgot to mention it with everything going on. Do you have any objections before I proceed?’
I shook my head no. Might as well not annoy him any more than I already have.
Dejectedly, I waited as he pressed a couple buttons on what I’d assumed was his satnav. He rewound too far and we had to hear me talk to myself for quite a long time. George was horrified, to say the least. This was real, concrete evidence that he wasn’t actually here. And he couldn’t handle it.
‘Excuse me,’ he whispered, sliding out the car.
Ronnie only seemed mildly disturbed. Finally, Castro found the part he was looking for. He paused the tape briefly to get my full attention.
‘Any more thoughts on where you hid the money?’ I could be heard saying. Then nothing, until ‘Really? What a great place to put it. I don’t know why Angela didn’t think to search there.’
It was there, in black and white. Or waves and amplitude. And I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
‘I only said that because I thought you were going to kill me,’ I explained.
‘Meaning, you lied,’ he stated.
‘Well, yeah, but-’
‘Forget about that! That’s not important,’ he chuckled, still faux-friendly. ‘Let’s ask my buddy George a few questions, huh? Is he still here?’
He had actually returned that second, but that’s obviously not useful.
‘It’s a different George,’ I said.
‘Of course it is!’
I kinda wished that he had killed me by now. George rested his hand on my shoulder, which offered me absolutely no comfort whatsoever. Still, the nightmare wasn’t ending. Castro still looked like he had another card up his sleeve.
‘By the way,’ he continued, ‘I didn’t know that Ronald Higgins was a pro-surfer from Bondi Beach.’
I needed a map, a compass and a GPS to find the meaning of that announcement.
‘Huh?’ I summed up.
‘The body on the beach was identified as Cal Johnson, 28. He flew over for a surfing competition. Hit some difficulties late at night, turned up dead a couple hours later.’
Thunderstruck, I turned to the dimwitted asshole who brought me here.
‘That wasn’t you?’ I yelled.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture, feeling sheepish.
‘I never said that it was.’
‘You massively, heavily implied it was, though,’ George groaned, sinking into the seat.
‘You didn’t think to mention that it wasn’t you?’
‘I never had the chance. Angela came along, and then, the other body...’
‘And what about now?’ I screamed. My lungs were burning which was great, because it matched the rest of my outfit.
‘You were on a roll,’ he shrugged. ‘Didn’t want to interrupt. Look, my body’s probably long gone by now. Fish food. You can forget trying to find it, if you want. I no longer care about it.’
That made two of us. Deflated, I slumped back in the seat as Castro watched the show I was clearly putting on for his amusement.
‘This is why I don’t help people,’ I mumbled.
‘Because you’re an attention-seeking liar?’ he sneered.
‘For what it’s worth, I am sorry,’ Ronnie tried.
‘It’s worth absolutely nothing.’
‘You can drop the act,’ Castro sighed.
‘Not an act. Wish I could.’
He raised an eyebrow at that, but had evidently had enough of my tomfoolery for one day.
‘Are you arresting me?’ I asked flatly.
‘Wish I could,’ he said mockingly. ‘My chief has decided against it. Money talks.’
I couldn’t hide the relief, and he was disgusted. He turned away from me, shaking his head as he did.
‘Get the hell out of my car,’ he spat.
‘You’re leaving me here?’
‘Yeah, but don’t worry, Princess. Your knight in shining, diamond armor has come to rescue you.’
I caught sight of a worried-looking man talking to Detective Taylor and wished I could die. It was my father. I got out of Castro’s car to face the music. He started up the engine as soon as I touched gravel.
‘Wait!’ I said suddenly, knocking on his window. Glaring, he rolled it down. ‘What was all this about? You owe me that much, at least.’
‘I don’t owe you jack-’
I didn’t catch the last word as he revved and drove off, but I could take a guess.