Brandon arrived at the Tribune early Thursday morning. He was dressed for work in a light blue and white-checkered shirt and khakis. Reaching Jim’s office, he rapped on the door and smiled. Jim, however, did not appear to be happy to see him.
“What are you doing here, Brandon? You’re supposed to be on bereavement until next week.”
Shutting the door behind him, he took a seat across from Jim. “I know, I know, but I can’t just sit around, Jim. It’s driving me nuts.” He tossed a flash drive on the desk. “I finished the article series I told you about.”
Sighing and shaking his head, he looked Brandon in the eyes. “There isn’t going to be any series. I’m sorry, Brandon.”
Looking confused and shocked, Brandon questioned his authority. “What the hell are you talking about? Jim, I’ve been working on this for weeks, man! The public has a right to this information. SPD and the prosecutor’s office over step their bounds daily. Don’t you think enough is enough?”
“Now is not the time for this, my friend. You are under investigation, for killing your wife!”
Standing up, Brandon continued his defense. “Really, Jim? After all these years you don’t trust me? I’ve done the research. I now have personal experience and you’re not gonna let me run with this? For God’s sake, you haven’t even come to my defense by conducting any kind of write up on the investigation at all. Frankly, I’m a little surprised.”
Jim stood in response to Brandon’s aggressiveness and placed his hands in front of him on his desk. “You’re right, I haven’t come to your defense at all. Detective Martinez has already contacted me fishing for information. And in my opinion, as Senior Editor, it is not in your best interest or the interest of the Tribune to even touch pen to paper on your wife’s death. I trust you, Brandon, but you have to trust me as well. There is no comment from SPD on their investigation, only questions. Questions I am not willing to answer short of being legally obligated to do so. So at this point, you need to let this personal vendetta of yours go. End of discussion.”
Brandon wasn’t defeated just yet. “This is hardly a personal vendetta, Jim. I’ve been working on this for a while. You gave me the clearance when I presented you my proposal months ago. You can’t yank this from me now. I need this. I need to work; it’s all I have left. Jim, please...” he asked beggingly.
Sitting back down in his chair, Jim sighed and grabbed his chin, rubbing it while he thought. He placed his hands together and rubbed them slowly. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do. Come back to work. Who am I to say what’s best for you or how you should handle all of this. However, I’m still not running the series -”
“But Ji-”
Placing his hand up in a stop motion, Jim continued. “Once the smoke clears, and Detective Martinez is off your ass, I’ll reconsider. That’s final, Brandon.” He looked in his eyes making sure his instructions resonated.
Although not happy, Brandon nodded his head and retreated to his office. Jim sat back and rubbed the stress from the back of his head. Not a minute later he heard a rap on his door. Martinez stood there with a smug grin on his face. The girl from the front desk popped up from behind him.
“Jim, I’m so sorry. I tried to stop him...”
“It’s alright, Miranda. I’ll handle this.”
As she turned to head down the hall Jim looked at Martinez as he sat down. “What do you want, Detective? This is beginning to border harassment.”
Martinez made himself comfortable in a chair on the other side of Jim’s large executive desk and tossed the warrant on top so it slid across the smooth wood finish. Lifting his chin he said, “There’s your warrant, Mr. West. It’s pretty limited and self-explanatory. If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here and wait while you gather the info I need.” He winked.
Opening up the warrant Jim began to read it. Shaking his head he sighed. “I don’t understand this.”
Martinez rolled his eyes to himself. “I need confirmation that the listed phone number belongs to this newspaper and a list of all individuals who have access to it.”
Brandon came walking into the office with his head down, proofing an article. “Hey, Jim, I got a question for y-” As he looked up he was shocked and then confused. “What’s going on, Jim?”
Standing to greet him, Martinez smiled. “Mr. DeFranco, just the man I wanted to see.”
“Brandon, I think maybe you should go home for the day and let me handle this.”
Before he could respond, Martinez said, “Oh no, I think Mr. DeFranco would have plenty to add to the conversation. Matter of fact, we could just go down to the station and straighten all this out right now.”
“Jim, what is he talking about?” His eyes moved from Jim to Martinez and back to Jim.
“He has a warrant, Brandon.”
“A warrant? For what exactly?”
Jim didn’t take his eyes off of him. They screamed at him to take his advice. “Brandon, please go home and let me handle this.”
Martinez chimed in again. “You know, I also received the autopsy report from Dr. Wexler on the cause of your wife’s death.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Unfortunately, I left it at my office. How ‘bout you follow me down there and I can go over that with you as well? Figure all this out.”
Confidence filled Brandon’s chest as he inhaled deeply. “You know what, Detective? Let’s go.”
“Brandon, you don’t know what you’re doing-”
“No, Jim. I know exactly what I am doing. This is bullshit and I’ve had enough!” Pulling his keys from the front pocket of his Khakis he said, “I’ll be back in a while.”
His eyebrows shooting up with excitement and surprise, Martinez followed Brandon out. He turned back to Jim as if he won. “I guess he’ll be back in a while, Mr. West.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Jim slammed his hands on the desk. “Son of a bitch!”
Sam stood at the entryway of his office with a folder cradled in her arms, flinching at the tone in his voice. “O-kaaay. What did I miss?”
Looking at her with his ice-blue eyes he begged, “Please follow Brandon down to the station. Make sure he doesn’t say or do anything stupid.”
Her jaw dropped as her forehead wrinkled. “What the hell is he going to the station for?”
Jim tilted his head and stretched his neck from side to side. “Detective Martinez was here with a warrant. Also said he had the autopsy report. It’s not looking good, Sam. And Brandon is at his wits end; exactly where Detective Martinez wants him. He set the bait and reeled him right in. Just please go supervise.”
“Of course.” Without hesitation Sam returned to her office, dropped her files on the desk, grabbed her purse, and ran out of the Tribune to try and catch up to them.
She ran up to Brandon’s vehicle and grabbed the handle just before he shut the driver’s side door. Catching her breath she pleaded with him. “Brandon, what are you doing?”
Turning on the ignition, he paused. “Sam, please don’t. I’m taking care of this once and for all.” Looking into her eyes he grabbed the handle from inside. “Please let go.”
She flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder and met his gaze with sincerity. “I’m not trying to stop you, Brandon. But I’m begging you to at least let me come with you. You’re doing exactly what Detective Martinez wants you to do and this can’t end well.”
He placed both hands on the steering wheel and leaned his head against the headrest, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment. Leaning forward he put the car in reverse to back out. “Fine. Get in.”
Martinez was well ahead of them as they pulled out of the Tribune parking lot. Making it to SPD headquarters, they pulled into a visitor parking spot. Sam’s eyelashes blinked from under her bangs. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
Without giving it another thought, Brandon angrily opened his car door and said, “Yes I do.” Slamming it behind him, he sprinted up to the glass doors entering the station with Sam quickly following behind. The lobby being empty, Brandon approached the records window.
There was a lady at the desk a few feet away. When she failed to acknowledge his presence, he knocked on the glass. “Excuse me?”
Her eyes rudely glanced up at him before she turned her gaze back to her computer screen.
He knocked on the window again. “Excuse me? I’m here to see Detective Martinez. He just came in minutes before me.”
Taking her time to finish whatever she was working on, she finally rose out of her seat and came to the window. In a non-urgent manner she replied, “I’m sorry. Can I help you?”
Growing irritated, Brandon kept his composure. “I’m here to see Detective Martinez. He has information about my wife’s death.”
The clerk looked at him over the top of her glasses. “Do you have an appointment?”
Sam stood next to Brandon with her arms crossed, growing more pissed off by the moment. Before he could answer, she responded, “Yes! He’s expected. Please let him know Mr. DeFranco has arrived.”
Looking crossed, the clerk said, “Sure thing,” and returned to her desk, picking up the phone receiver. Before she could dial a number, Martinez sprung from the heavy steel door leading from the bureau stairs to the lobby.
“Mr. DeFranco, thank you for coming.” He motioned to the clerk and then turned his attention to Brandon and Sam. “Ms. Brown. I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
Sam pursed her bright red lips. “I’m sure you weren’t.”
A tad perturbed, Martinez led Brandon into the interview room. He stopped Sam before entering. “If it’s alright with you, I have some intimate details of the investigation I need to share with Mr. DeFranco alone.”
Without saying a word, she turned to Brandon for guidance.
“Detective, I’m sure nothing you have to say can offend my colleague. I’d rather have her join us, if it’s all the same to you.”
Shrugging his shoulders he thought to himself, Two for one special today. Hot damn! “Alright then.” He motioned Sam to enter and have a seat next to Brandon as he sat in the chair across from them and gently set a file folder on the table. Opening the file he pulled out the autopsy report. “So, I guess we can start with Dr. Wexler’s initial findings.” He spread out a couple documents in front of them. His eyes focused on Brandon as he spoke, gauging his reaction. “It’s been confirmed that your wife was indeed the victim of foul play. She suffered a harsh contusion to the head that knocked her unconscious but the actual cause of death was due to drowning.”
As Brandon read the report, Sam reached over and grabbed his hand in support. Shaking his head he tried to vocalize his amazement. Placing the report back on the table in front of him he responded, “I’m at a loss for words here, Detective. Who would do something like this?”
Relaxing back in his chair, Martinez glanced back and forth between the two of them. “That’s what I was hoping you could help me with.”
Brandon leaned his elbows on the table and began rubbing his forehead with the balls of his fingertips. His hands fell in front of him. “Look, it’s like I told you, Pam didn’t have any enemies. None of this makes sense to me.”
Grinning inside, Martinez made his move. “Okay, maybe this will help.” He reached into the file and pulled out the phone records. “You say on the night she was killed, Mrs. DeFranco sent you a text at around 8:30 PM, said she was going to stay with her sister for a few days?”
“That is correct.”
“Right, so if you look on your phone records, you can obviously see that text.” Pulling out another sheet of paper from his file he continued, “If you’ll notice on Mrs. DeFranco’s phone records, at 7:48 PM, your wife received a text from a number, that appears to be yours, asking her to meet you at your favorite place. Does your favorite place happen to be down at the docks, Mr. DeFranco?”
Shooting Martinez a look of disapproval, Sam quickly interjected. “Don’t answer that Brandon.”
Feeling empowered, Martinez shot back at her. “I’m sorry, Miss Brown, are you here for moral support or did you become a licensed attorney in the past week?”
Brandon appeared to be becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. He shoved the papers across the table. “Alright, what the hell is going on here?”
Sam stood from her seated position, her cheeks growing slightly red. “That’s what I would like to know. Is Brandon being detained or is he free to leave? Brandon, I think it’s time for us to leave.”
Anger took over his confused state. “No, wait a second, here. What are you saying, Detective? That I sent my wife a text asking her to meet me at the docks the night she died?”
Martinez was happy to have his attention. “It certainly appears that way at first glance.” He took hold of the phone record and placed it in front of Brandon pointing as he explained. “The text actually came from this number here. It was sent via a third party application to make the receiver believe it was sent from your phone. Funny thing is, it was sent from a phone that belongs to the Tribune.”
Brandon stood up and began to pace in the small room. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He leaned over the table and looked Martinez straight in his face. “I did not kill my wife!”
Allowing the moment to unfold, Martinez sat back and watched without saying anything. He saw the sweat forming on Brandon’s forehead and Sam’s nervousness forced her to stand in an attempt to calm Brandon down. She begged him, “Please, Brandon, it’s time to go...” As she placed her hand on his forearm he forcefully pushed her away.
“No! Enough of this!” Shutting his eyes he took a deep breath before sitting back down and glancing at the phone records again. “What do you mean, the text was sent from a third party app?”
Excited to explain it to him, Martinez leaned forward. “You see this number here? This is the number that actually sent the text to your wife’s phone. However, an app was downloaded onto that phone that allows the user to call or text any other number in disguise. Meaning, I can use the app right now to call your phone and make it appear to be your wife calling you. Or Sam. Or any other number I choose.”
Pulling out another piece of paper from his arsenal, Martinez said, “You know, not only was your wife murdered, she was pregnant at the time of her death.”
Sinking back into her chair, Sam grabbed her mouth with her hands and muttered, “Oh my God.”
Brandon did a double take. “She was what?”
His face grim, Martinez shook his head affirmatively. “I’m sure you were aware your wife was cheating on you, right? Was it yours or his? Do you even know?”
In fight or flight mode, Brandon chose to fight. “You know, I had no idea Pam was pregnant.” His head shook from side to side and a tear formed in the corner of his eye. “But I knew about Damian Burk. That’s what we were arguing about the night I was bogusly charged with domestic violence. Pam and I were already talking about divorce. That night solidified it. And then when SPD got involved, I made Pam a deal. She would help me with my article series, and I would sign the papers.”
Sam looked at him in terror. “Brandon, what the hell are you saying?”
Feeling ashamed, he explained himself. “Look, Pam and I had not been getting along for a while. I was hurt when I found out about Damian.” He looked at Martinez and stated absolutely, “But it didn’t make me want to kill her.” He paused for a moment. “I had an important article series about local law enforcement.”
Martinez rolled his eyes and curled the corner of his lips.
Brandon stopped and glanced at him. “No offense. It’s just business.” Turning back to his story he said, “I was working on it for months. Jim had everything approved. When SPD got involved in my life, it almost seemed to good to be true. I decided I would wrap up the series with my own personal experience. Pam agreed to help me. Figured she at least owed me that.” He sat back confident in his explanation of the chain of events. He turned his attention back to Martinez. “Hell, you guys already had me pegged as a wife beater, why on earth would I kill her?”
Sam looked up to the ceiling of the small room shaking her head as she defensively placed her arms across her breasts and took a deep breath attempting to hide the worry in her face.
His handsome face stern and filled with doubt, Martinez caught on to her body language, placed his strong forearms onto the table and crossed his fingers together. He starred Brandon down and said, “You know, that’s quite a story there Mr. DeFranco. I’m afraid it just doesn’t wash for me. See, I just delivered a warrant to your editor at the Tribune. Soon I’m going to have the phone records to the number I shared with you. There is no doubt the text your wife received luring her to the docks the night she was killed came from that phone.
“So, either you sent your wife the text from that phone in an attempt to cover it up, or someone else from the Tribune having access to that phone sent it. Again, in an attempt to cover it up.”
Quickly rising from her seat, Sam spoke up. “Okay Brandon, I really think it’s time for us to go. This is getting ridiculous.”
After eyeing her up and down, Martinez kept his poker face and turned his eyes back to Brandon.
Meeting his gaze with a look of confusion, the wrinkles in Brandon’s forehead began to diminish as the pieces fell into place for him. His squinted eyes turned to Sam and looked up to her, dumbfounded. “It was you.”
Her heart began to pound beneath her firm chest. She grabbed her bag from the back of the chair and swung it around her shoulder. “I said it’s time to go Brandon.” She pushed in her chair and shot her eyes at Martinez defensively. “You’re a real piece of work, Detective.”
Brandon stood up and blocked her from leaving. “You crazy bitch. This whole time it was you.”
Guilt washed over her. “Brandon, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
He began backing her into the corner. “I’m afraid I know exactly what I’m saying. You came up with my alibi. You begged me to go along with you. That wasn’t for my protection.” Poking his finger into her chest, he declared, “It was for your own. Wasn’t it, Sam? For God’s sake, you seduced me on the day of her funeral!”
Standing out of preparation for the fallout, Martinez put his hand on his weapon but he didn’t interfere.
Fear washed over her face as he towered over her. She batted her long, thick lashes at him as she looked up into his fierce eyes. “Brandon, please don’t let him fill your head with this bullshit!”
Without taking his eyes off of her, Brandon stood nose to nose with her and stated confidently, “Detective, I’m sorry I lied to you about my alibi. I’m also sorry I didn’t see this all before. I wasn’t with Sam. I was home alone. I got home that night around seven thirty. Pam was already gone. And then I got her text saying she would be at her sisters. That’s all I know.” The relief permeated from his breath.
Grabbing her chest trying to breath, Sam finally broke and screamed at him, “You stupid son of a bitch! She didn’t deserve you!” She smacked him across the face and met his shock with malevolence in her gaze. “I sent Pam that text. I met her down at the docks and told her what a worthless, piece of shit wife she was. I followed her and Damian for months while you sat around and gave two shits. She couldn’t even admit what a whore she was. Kept telling me it was none of my business and pushing me to get out of her way. And now she can rot in hell!”
Brandon grabbed Sam’s flailing arms trying to stave off the attack. Martinez quickly circled the table, managing to get her hands behind her so he could cuff her. As he secured the handcuffs, Brandon slid against the wall to the other side of the room, bewildered, as she was escorted out.
Martinez walked her out of the interview room towards the station door as he recited the charges against her. “Miss Samantha Brown, you’re under arrest for assault. You’re also under arrest for the murder of Pamela DeFranco. You have the right to remain silent...”
Every extremity of Brandon’s was frozen. He stood against the wall as she screamed back to him, “I sacrificed everything for you!”
Martinez led Sam through the door and down the hall to the first available holding cell. Removing the cuffs from her and shutting the cell door behind him he looked at her frail frame and shook his head in disbelief. “Sit tight. You’ve got nothing but time now.”
Sam wrung her wrists as if the cuffs were too tight and she glared in his direction, her under eyes smeared with mascara. Sitting down on the metal bench she grunted, “I need to make a phone call.” He walked away without responding. She jumped up from her seated position and ran to the cell bars, grabbing onto them with both of her hands. “I need to make a phone call!”
He continued walking away. When he reached the door to the lobby he heard an ear-piercing scream. Attempting to ignore it, he returned to the interview room. Brandon was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. “Mr. DeFranco?” He looked up, disoriented. His face was flush and his eyes appeared red. Sitting down across from him, Martinez was sincere. “I’m sorry, Mr. DeFranco. I don’t think either one of us was expecting that.”
Masking his inner turmoil with a deceptive calmness Brandon asked, “Am I okay to leave?”
Understanding he needed some time after the unfolding of recent events, Martinez nodded to him. “I hope you realize I’m going to need you to answer some questions in the near future.”
Before walking out the door, Brandon turned to him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’ll have my full cooperation.”
Reaching into his pocket to grab his phone, Martinez dialed Elizabeth. She answered immediately. “Hola, guapo.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Aye, me Beleza Blanca. I have news for you.”
“Let me guess; you’re waiting naked for me with wine and pizza?”
“Oh how I wish! I got one better for ya. Well, kinda. I made an arrest in Pam DeFranco’s murder.”
“Wow, seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack baby doll. Samantha Brown is being processed as we speak,” he said proudly. “You can go ahead and call the family. Let them know we still have some unanswered questions, so they can be filled in on all the details beginning of next week. But the arraignment should be first thing tomorrow morning.”
Her voice showed her bewilderment. “Samantha Brown? Wha-aat?”
“Yeah, crazy story. I’ll tell you all about it tonight over wine and pizza?”
“Yummy. I can’t wait. You’re meeting me and China at the courthouse later this afternoon right?”
“Four o’clock, right? I’ll be waiting for you.” His voice turned seductive. “Then after that, we can head to your house and get down to real business.”
“Bring your handcuffs, Detective.”
His eyes brightened and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “¡Ay, caramba! No hay problema, seniorita.”
Elizabeth pushed the foam container to the other side of the picnic table and grabbed her belly. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you talked me into eating that. Those were the best BBQ ribs I’ve ever had in my life. I think I’m going to vomit; I ate too much.”
He smiled at her satisfaction. “At least it’s Friday and you don’t have too much time left at the office. Just make sure you rest up before tonight.” Biting his bottom lip he smiled.
Flickering her eyebrows at him she assured him, “My nap is already planned.” She looked around the park before turning her gaze to the lake in front of them. “I never even knew this little gem was here.”
Taking the last bite of coleslaw, he closed the lid on his container and wiped his mouth with his napkin. Well, it used to be until the city kicked him out for not having a permit. I had to call in a favor for a friend.” Hearing footsteps on the grass behind them, Martinez turned around to see Miles approaching. “Speak of the dirty devil.”
“Sup, Martinez?” He stood there with his hands in the pockets of his baggy jean shorts, his Dallas Cowboy’s jersey hanging loosely over them. “I guess white folk like BBQ after all?”
Standing to greet him properly, Martinez said. “Indeed, my friend,” and solidified it with a fist pump. He turned to Elizabeth introducing her. “Miles, this is Elizabeth Strong. Liz, I give you Miles Murphy.”
Stroking his chin and nodding his head while he grinned, he looked her up and down. “That’s what’s up, lil’ sista.”
Martinez scowled and clenched his teeth causing his cheek to twitch.
Stepping back Miles dropped his hand from his chin. “Oooh, it’s like that? I gotchu. My o-po-lo-gies.” He offered his fist. “Nice-to-meet-you, Miss-Strong.”
Elizabeth giggled and pumped his fist. “It’s nice to meet you, Miles.”
He dropped his hand and began waving it in front of him. “Hey now, I’m the Medicine Man. Whatever your ailment-”
With censure in his tone, Martinez quickly corrected him. “It’s Miles, Liz. Just Miles.”
Backing up, he understood. “I gotchu, okay. I’m just gon’ wait over here.”
Giving him a nod, Martinez told Elizabeth, “I gotta take care of this and then I have to head out to Mansfield. I’m glad the arraignment went well this morning. Now you can take a little break.” He grabbed her hand.
Letting a deep breath out, she had an air of calm and confidence, which he liked. “Sort of. Next week I need to begin preparing the family for trial.”
“For right now just chill” His tone had a degree of warmth and concern. “You know, I am really proud of you for going to court yesterday and how well you handled yourself. You did the right thing.”
Her eyes like sapphire, peered up at him. “Thank you for lunch. For everything.”
Kissing her on the forehead, he promised, “We’ll pick this up later tonight. Okay?” Then he watched her as she left.
Miles walked up next to him. “Da-yum! Marti-nez, you da man.”
Scratching his five-o’clock shadow he said, “Watch it, Miles.” The two of them continued to watch Elizabeth walk to her car across the street. She turned back, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun. She smiled at them and waved. “Wave to her, Miles.” He obliged with an out of character, Steve Urkle smile and wave. Once she was in her car, Martinez asked him, “What do you got for me?”
“Ma-aaaan this shit be tight! I ain’t even playin’ wit you.” He planted his fist in the palm of his other hand.
Frustrated, Martinez placed his hands in his front pockets, titled his head in disbelief and said, “Come on, Miles.”
“Look, bro, I’m serious. You know how hard it is to find a mole?” His arms moved in waves as he explained. “You start goin’ down one tunnel and it jus’ lead to another. This shit go wa-aay back. But my sources tell me, it started somewheres in the county’s beloved drug-task-force.” His tone and facial expression set off an alarm.
Martinez stiffened and shifted his mahogany eyes to Miles.
Tightening his lips together, he muttered, “Mmm hmm. Ima need some time.” Walking away from Martinez, Miles turned his attention away from him to avoid a fallout. “Ay, yo, Mr. Henry!” He pointed at Martinez. “You owe him a lunch, my man!” Then he strutted to his tricked out Cadillac, without giving Martinez a second glance.
Arriving in Mansfield just after two o’clock, Martinez rolled onto the prison grounds. He checked in with the guard, who directed him to the release gate. Circling around the prison, he drove down the long road to the gate and parked off to the side, waiting as he repeatedly checked his dash for the time. Within ten minutes, he heard the sound of the alarm indicating the oversized double steel door to the prison was opening. “Right on time,” he said aloud to himself. He exited the vehicle and stood on the passenger side, leaning against the door and propping one foot up under his butt with his arms crossed, his chest protruding overtop of them.
A guard stood on either side as one of them gave directions to the prisoner standing in between them. A military green colored bag was strapped around his shoulder. He walked forward until ordered to halt. The guards walked to meet him a few feet from behind before the steel doors shut behind them. Again, the guard gave him instructions. He pushed a red button the size of his hand and the huge fenced gate lined with barbed wire clanged open as the one syllable alarm sound again.
Once the gate was fully opened, the guard ordered him to step to the yellow line three feet in front of him and remain there until advised he was no longer under the instruction of Mansfield Corrections. After the alarm sounded again, the gate closed behind him and the guard said, “Inmate number 34621, you are no longer under the control of Mansfield Correctional. You are free to leave the premises and reminded to report to your parole officer within 72 hours of your departure.” And the guards proceeded back to the double steel doors entering the prison.
Using his foot to push himself away from the vehicle, Martinez dressed in his blue polo and jeans, his badge gleaming from his black belt, stately walked towards the prisoner. Once he was two feet within his reach, he tapped an envelope in his hand as he said, “Well, well, well. Don’t know how you did it, but you did it. Gotta hand it to you Robinson, you’re smarter than you look.”
Steve was clean-shaven, dark hair cropped short enough to leave his curls, and dressed in a silky black shirt with grey dress slacks. He slightly titled his head back, thickening the muscles in his neck, glaring down his nose at Martinez. “You here for a reason?”
Pulling his standard issue Oakleys off his face, he met Steve’s gaze with authority. “You’re bag doesn’t really match your outfit, Robinson. You have plans tonight?”
“Matter of fact, I do. Been a long six years. I have some catching up to do. So unless you’re here to give me a ride...” Before he could finish, a black four-door BMW with custom wheels slowly inched towards them.
Tipping the envelope towards him, Martinez waited for Steve to grab it and said, “Mr. Steven Robinson, you have been served.”
There was a hardening of his eyes as he glanced from the envelope back to Martinez. His lips puckered with annoyance as he tossed the envelope over his shoulder without opening it.
Holding his ground and his gaze he said, “I really don’t think you want a ticket for littering, just being released and all.”
Pulling his bag from his shoulder he held it tightly to his side and replied, “You have my new address, I’m sure. Send me a bill.”
Martinez placed his sunglasses back on his face and flicked his chin with his thumb before turning away.
Steve opened the passenger side back door to the Beamer, flung his bag onto the seat and turned back grinning mischievously as he stated, “Hey, be sure to tell Lizzy I said hello.”
Opening the car door to his Impala, Martinez confidently said, “I’ll be seeing you around, Robinson.”
Girls’ night on Fridays at Chip’s was Elizabeth’s favorite. She was able to get her Black Jack on and visit her friend Donny DeLuca in order to de-stress a little while China perused the horny rich men looking for a no-strings-attached kinda lady.
Chip’s was banging like any other Friday night, especially during tourist season. After enjoying the amusement park for the day, many of the tourists and locals alike took their evening partying straight to the casino; not only for gambling but also for the live bands and dancing.
As the rest of the players waited impatiently for Elizabeth to make a decision, she was scanning the establishment. Donny gave her a concerned look. “Aye, doll, you okay,” he asked.
Snapping out of her daze, she turned back to the table. “I’m so sorry.” Glancing down at her cards, she held a four of spades and five of diamonds. She looked at the cards on the table and back to the dealer’s hand. Donny currently held a two and his hole card. She nodded and smiled. “Hit me.” The players to her left, stood where they were.
Donny flipped over his card, which was a jack of hearts. He dealt himself another. Ten of spades. Shaking his head in disappointment, he dished out the winnings to the players including Elizabeth.
Taking a deep breath she sighed.
Glancing up at her between dealing cards, Donny asked, “Yo, Liz, what’s gotchu so down, doll? It’s Friday and you’re on a winning streak. Dat detective being good to ya?”
She loved the sound of his Jersey accent blended with the sympathy in his voice. Shaking off her anxiety and getting her head back in the game she replied, “I’m fine. Thanks, Donny. There’s just a weird vibe tonight and I can’t put my finger on it.” Scanning her eyes across the room again, she waited to spot someone staring at her. You’re just being paranoid, Liz. Chill out.
On the other side of the casino where the high rollers congregated, Danielle DuPont slid from her office and glided across the room in her sleek black, backless dress; her long red hair pulled into a bun and her bangs hanging slightly over her eyebrows to accentuate her green eyes. With Michelle Gardner awaiting trial for attempting to set up her husband, Richard, for hiring someone to kill her, Danielle officially took her place as the manager of the entire establishment.
She hammed it up with all the gentleman who were running exorbitant tabs as if they had nothing to lose and smiled flirtatiously through her red lips as they complimented her and asked her to forward their appreciations of the hospitality to Richard.
Being close to midnight, she walked up to one of the bars and asked the bartender for her usual glass of Chardonnay. As her drink was set down in front of her, she felt a presence in the seat next to her. A nicely built man sat down with his face turned away from her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, let me order you a drink?”
Steve turned towards her, his voice firm, and said, “By all means, Jenny...”
Although her demeanor remained placid, panic was rioting within her. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze.
“...Oh, wait. It’s Danielle now, right? Been a long, long time since I’ve had the pleasure. Wouldn’t you agree?”