The Necklace

When I opened the door of the interview room, the guy looked up at me.

He was sitting on the back side of a scuffed wooden table in a faded orange chair. The cheap kind with the chrome legs. His t-shirt almost blended with the bland, institutional green block wall behind him.

The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and air freshener. Go figure.

I said, “Hey, how you doin’?”

I straightened my tie and pulled out the chair on the near side of the table. I flopped a manila folder thick with his rap sheet and the current investigation on the table, then sat down.

This guy had been in and out of the system like it had a swinging door installed. Pure luck that we’d never crossed paths.

He leaned forward, tapped one fingernail sharply on the table. Not smug maybe, but self-assured. “See, I know you,” he said. “That’s the difference between you an’ me. I know you, but you don’t know me at all. You ain’t got a clue what it’s like to be in this body.”

He tapped his right temple with the same finger. “In this mind with these experiences. But you’ about to have one.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

Have one? One what? A clue or an experience? Probably both, with my lousy luck.

Behind my poker face, I nodded. “Sure, sure.” I’d heard some variation of the same line a hundred times. Whatever.

I opened the folder and bent over it as if he weren’t in the room.

I flipped up a page, then another one. I pretended to read for a moment. I frowned briefly as if I’d seen something, then let a grin flicker and die on my face. Maybe he’d take the bait. We had him cold anyway. If he took the bait either way—confess or lawyer up—we’d both have an early day.

But he didn’t. He just kept looking at me over those crossed arms. I could feel it.

I flashed a look at him as if I’d just realized he was there.

With the long, thin fingers of his right hand, he gripped his left arm just below the shoulder. The fingers of his left hand were curled into a loose fist.

I turned my attention back to the page and pretended to read for another moment. Then I closed the folder definitively. I straightened in the chair and finally made eye contact. With obviously feigned interest, I said, “Hey, you know, when you’re right, you’re right.”

As I crossed my left leg over my right at the knee and straightened my tie again, I said, “So what say you tell me about you, eh? Tell me what I don’t already know.”

He sneered, sat back and crossed his arms. “Nah, that’d take too long. What you don’t know would fill hours. Maybe even days.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Yeah? You’re that unique, eh?”

He leaned slightly forward and tapped his temple again. “What’s in here is that unique.”

“Ah, okay.” So he was gonna lawyer up. I was sure of it. Still, I had to go through the routine. I read him his rights. “So you understand these rights as I’ve explained them to you?”

He sneered. “Yeah, I got it.”

I shrugged. “Okay. So you wanna tell me what happened or—” I put my hands on the table, preparatory to getting up.

But the kid shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want no lawyer.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I settled back in my chair again. “All right, so what happened?”

“Nothin’, man. Me an’ my— Me an’ this chick, we was arguin’ see.” He shrugged. “I guess it got outta hand.”

So he was arguing with his girlfriend and it got out of hand. I made a note. “Oh, so it was an accident?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. I mean, when it all came down, I meant to do ‘er.”

This time my eyebrows arched on their own. “You meant to kill her?”

“Yeah. I guess so. But we’ been goin’ at it for years, man. It was time, know what I mean? I had one’a them epiphanies.”

“So what were you ‘going at it’ about?”

He smirked. “Yeah, you know what I mean, man. You been around, am I right?”

“We aren’t here to talk about me.”

“Like that one chick you used t’know.” The smirk curled the corner of his lip. “What was her name? Amanda Arvisu? Somethin’ like that.”

Amanda Arvisu? How’d he know about her? I’d dated her twenty years ago. Maybe longer. The whole thing was on again, off again. We tried to be serious, but it just wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Perps look up things about cops all the time.

I poised my pen over my notebook. “Never heard of ‘er. So let’s get back to you. You said you wanted to tell me what happened, right? Maybe clear your conscience?”

“C’mon, man. I don’t care nothin’ about no conscience. It wasn’t wrong, what I did.”

“You killed her, but that wasn’t wrong?”

He laughed. “Nah, man. You get the whole story, you’ll understand.”

“Okay, so make me understand. Let’s get on with it.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Just ‘get on with it,’ huh? Okay.” He grabbed the sides of his chair. The legs screeched against the floor as he adjusted it, then put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I picked up this chick, see, an’—”

“Picked her up? So you didn’t know her?”

“I didn’t say that, man. Yeah, I knew her, all right?”

I nodded and made a note.

“So I picked up this chick I know an’ we headed to a bar.”

“You remember the name of the bar?”

“Yeah, man. You know Charley’s over on 16th an’ Alverson?”

I looked at him and put my pen down. “Is this some kind of joke or something?”

I used to take Mandy to Charley’s every Friday night. We shot a few games of pool early, then danced when the band started. Those nights we usually ended up in the sack together.

“Nah, man.” He grinned. “Why? You like know Charley’s or what?”

I picked up my pen, still looking at him. “Go on.”

“So we had a few beers, you know.”

“But the girl was underage wasn’t she?” I glanced back through my notes. “She wasn’t quite 18, right?”

He laughed and slumped in his chair. “You’re askin’ me about killin’ this chick, an’ you’re worried about whether she was drinkin’ beer at 17? Man, that’s whack.

“But yeah, yeah. She was underage, as you put it, okay? But she was also hot, so the barkeep looked the other way, know what I mean? Besides, I bought the beers, okay?”

“Okay, so then what?”

He looked at the table and shrugged. “You know, we danced some.” He glanced up at me. “Talked about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Aw you know. Jus’ stuff. We talked about growin’ up, our folks. Like she was wearin’ this neat little necklace. Said her ol’ man got it for her but then she never seen him again. Stuff like that. Anyway, while we was dancin’, we got kind’a close too. You know what I mean.”

I jotted a note about the necklace, then put three question marks next to it. There wasn’t a necklace, either on the body or nearby. “You mean physically close?”

“Yeah, kind’a. She was wearin’ this blouse, man. Whew. It was almos’ see through. An’ these tight little shorts. An’ she was workin’ it too, y’know?” He grinned.

“Anyway, when we lef’ Charley’s we was both feelin’ pretty good, you know. So we went back to her place. We was gonna jus’ have a couple more beers, maybe talk some more about the old days.

“Only the more beers we had, we kep’ gettin’ closer, right? An’ we was talkin’ more about our folks too. You know, chicks love stuff like that, right? Plus our folks was really screwed up. Kind’a made us who we was.”

Here it comes. The standard “it’s all my parents’ fault.”

I nodded. “Go on.”

“So things was startin’ to heat up, you know. An’ then that’s when I had this plan. It was perfect. We could get our folks back good, see. But at the same time, we’d make each other feel real good. You see what I’m sayin’?”

“So you were gonna have sex, right?” Blah blah blah. But how would having sex get the parents back? Kids have sex all the time nowadays.

“Yeah, man, for starters. But jus’ when it was gonna get really good, she put her hands on my chest. She says nah, you know, like she changed her mind. Like we gotta stop an’ it’s all wrong an’ all that stuff.”

“But you were too far gone to stop, is that it?”

“Nah, man.” He leaned forward and grinned. “Hey, this my story or are you wantin’ to share?”

“Go on.”

“Nah, I wasn’t too far gone, man. I could’a stopped. But like I said, I had this idea an’ she agreed at firs’. An’ it was a good idea. It’d fix things for both of us an’ get our folks back too.”

I frowned. “And that’s where it went wrong?”

“Nah, man, it went jus’ right. Jus’ like I planned. An’ jus’ like she agreed earlier, you know. An’ it was good too. Well, ‘cept that las’ part. But it turned out the las’ part was what made the whole plan perfect.”

I frowned. “I’m not following.”

He grinned. “You will, man. You will.

“So I hadda hold her down, right? She already took off her blouse an’ her bra an’ her shorts before she changed her mind. So long as I was there, I tore off her panties for effect, you know. Then I took what I wanted, see. An’ that was gonna be the whole plan. You know, originally.

“But then when she changed her mind, the plan changed too. An’ it got better. It got perfect.

“She kep’ yellin’ no at me an’ she kep’ swingin’ at me an’ stuff so finally I just grabbed her throat. I started pushin’ hard with my thumbs, y’know? Like squeezin’ really hard so she’d shut up. An’ at stupid necklace thing her daddy give her stuck me in the palm, man. Made me so mad I ripped it right off her neck.”

“So that’s why they didn’t find it at the scene. You took it with you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, man. An’ it was like fate.

“I mean, when I killed her, it was like an accident. You know, like I didn’t mean for it to happen. But when I looked close at that necklace, that’s when it come to me. Her dyin’ is what made the plan perfect.”

“What was so special about the necklace?”

“Oh, nothin’ important. It jus’ had this writin’ on the back.”

Writing? So an inscription? But how could that matter to him? I frowned. “So the necklace told you to kill her or what?”

He laughed. His eyes shone. “Nah, man. C’mon, I ain’t all that whacked. The necklace jus’ showed me the whole thing, see? Made me understand. Me an’ her, we take care’a each other firs’. Then she dies, see. An’ then I die. Then the whole thing’s over.”

Definitely a candidate for the psych ward. Guy’s pushing for an insanity plea.

“Okay, so that’s what you want in the official statement, right? So you can use it in court for your—”

He laughed again, harder than before. He actually sounded happy. “Aw man, this thing ain’t gonna get nowhere near no court.”

Again I frowned. “How you figure that? With your confession plus the physical evidence, you have to know you’re going to—”

He held out his left hand, still curled into a loose fist, palm down. “‘Cause you ain’t seen this yet. That’s how I figure.” And slowly, one at a time, he uncurled his fingers.

The necklace, apparently still pinched between two of his fingers, unfolded. The pendant dropped and dangled a couple of inches above the table.

My eyes grew wide. I stared. Is that—

He grinned broadly. “Yeah, you reco’nize it, don’t you? A present from Daddy to his little girl on her very firs’ birthday. About sixteen years ago. An’ that was the las’ time she ever saw you, man. Despite what you put on the back.”

I continued to stare at the necklace.

“You wanna see it, right? The back, I mean? You wanna see the lie you wrote on there?” He swung the heart-shaped pendant toward me and let it drop.

It rolled over so the back was facing me and stopped. But I didn’t have to read it.

I knew what it said, and when I had it engraved, I meant it. But sometimes life turns out different than you plan.

But he wasn’t finished. Still grinning, and without so much as glancing at the pendant, he quoted the inscription. “‘I’ll always be there for you,’ it says. Always, it says. An’ then, ‘Love, Daddy’.” He flopped back in his chair. “Turns out you’ jus’ a lyin’ motha’fu—”

I launched. I threw the deadbolt on the door on my way to picking him up from his chair and slamming him back into the corner.

He huffed hard as the breath rushed from his body, but the grin was still on his face.

Someone began banging on the door.

I ignored the sound.

I’d wipe that grin off personally. I’d choke him ‘til he begged for his life, and then I’d wipe that grin off his damn face.

And I did.

I choked him, hard.

I squeezed his pencil neck with all my strength.

My lips less than an inch from his nose, I screamed, “You killed my little girl?”

His eyes still shone with laughter.

At the door, my friends were banging harder. Someone yelled something about getting a ram.

The perp tried to nod. In gasping breaths, he said, “I did—her a favor.”

He struggled to retain the grin. He forced it back to his face, his eyes watering.

The damn grin wouldn’t go away.

By god, it wouldn’t be there for the coroner to see.

Under his laughing, tearing eyes, his mouth moved. Spittle seeped from one corner. He said, “But you—you worthless, man.” And he forced another laugh through his collapsing throat.

They were still banging on the door.

I barely heard them.

I jerked the perp a few inches from the corner, lifted him from the floor, then slammed him back against the corner again. “You unspeakable bastard! You unspeakable bastard! My little girl?”

He nodded and choked out a laugh, a gleeful look in his tearing eyes. “You—you—call me bastard?”

I redoubled my grip on his throat.

Then I realized he wasn’t fighting back.

Why wasn’t he fighting back?

But he wasn’t. He was practically limp the whole time, except for that damned laughing.

I couldn’t hold him in the corner anymore. It was dead weight too long.

As the banging continued on the door, accompanied by muffled shouts, I stepped back from the wall, pulling him with me. I turned and lowered him onto his back on the table. I squeezed harder. I was going to prison. That was certain. The express route. Civilians love to put cops away. But when I got out, maybe I could find Mandy again. Maybe I could even locate our son.

He looked at me, his eyes on the verge of glazing over.

It was all but finished.

His voice sounded like it belonged on a hoarse frog. “You—”

I released his throat and pushed off against him. I glared at him. I wanted to be sure his brain registered my face. Spittle flew from my mouth as I hissed, “Say whatever you want, you sorry bastard! I’ll see you in hell!”

He tried again to laugh.

What the hell is so funny? I grabbed his collar again, lifted him to my face. “What the hell is so funny, you sick bastard?” Then I threw him to the table again.

Blood seeped from his ears, and from the inside corner of his right eye. Still, he grinned broadly. Then his body spasmed. Again. Hard. “You,” he said, “you my daddy too.” And a choked-out laugh was the last sound he ever made.

* * *

I took a final drag off my smoke and flipped the butt into the corner next to the can. “So yeah, I’m a cop, an’ I’m that cop.”

I shrugged. “The next day the story broke in the papers an’ here I am. But it was all over the Internet before that. You know, everybody likes to stomp on a cop no matter what’s goin’ on.” I looked at the guy. “Don’t you?”

I laughed. “Come to think of it, the story was probably on the Internet before I even unlocked the deadbolt. Freakin’ jerks.”

I shook my head. “An’ poor Mandy. Mandy never even made it down for the trial. Didn’t hear about that, though, did you?

“My buddy Randall went to see her first. You know, to deliver the news.” I laughed. “Bastard probably tried to tap her too. Randall’s like that, an’ Mandy always was a looker. He probably tried to play on the sympathy thing, you know.

“Anyway, she was fine then. But when ADA Frenky went to see her a couple days later, you know, to get her to testify against me, he found her dead in the bedroom. Bunch’a empty little amber bottles all over the bed. My third victim.”

I laughed again. Then I fished the half-empty pack out of my pocket and lit another cigarette.

I lit it, took a long drag, then gestured around the cell. “So that’s what I did, eh? That’s how I got here, okay? I murdered three people. That good? That enough for you?

“But hey, on the up side, I got nothin’ left to lose, right? So you want to kill a cop, hey, let’s dance. It ain’t like I much give a damn. But just understand, I ain’t givin’ nothin’ away free.”

And y’know, all three of those mooks turned around and walked outta my cell.

Of all the damn lousy luck.

* * * * * * *

Author Note: See all of my fiction at my online discount store.