The Hooker: A Reprehensible Acts Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

jacket in the
garage.   In the morning, I would trash it
and replace it.   Luckily, the jacket was
new and still in the stores.   That done,
all I had to do was sit back and wait for the cops to come knocking.      
    ***
    The cops came to my office late the
following morning.   I didn’t have to act
innocent.   Lance’s shootout with Blade
had made the local TV news and the newspapers by breakfast.   Jane wasn’t a problem.   She never watched TV before going to
work.   I could save the shocking news for
tonight.   To help give me credibility, I
had called the cops when I hit the office, saying I knew Lance and asking for
details.   Of course, they wouldn’t give
me any info but my name was on record as contacting them first.   The detectives introduced themselves and my
boss was good enough to let me use his office.
    “Mr.
Page, we understand that Lance Booth was a friend of yours,” Detective Francis
English said.  
    English
was African-American, a linebacker of a man, but for all his looks, his manner
was gentle.   He was nothing like his
partner, Detective Rick Taylor, who was young and ferret-like with a piercing
stare.
    “Yes,”
I said.   “He was one of my closest
friends.”
    “So,
you should be able to shed some light on last night’s events,” Taylor chipped
in.
    “I
wish I could.   I was hoping you could
tell me something.”
    “You
have no information about last night’s incident?” English asked.
    I
shook my head.   “To be honest, I don’t
think I really believe it.   It’s hard
enough to take in that’s he’s dead.”   I
shook my head again, lost for words.   It
was Oscar winning stuff.  
    English
and Taylor pressed a little harder but without any force.   Basically, we shadowboxed, no one throwing a
real punch.   I played innocent,
pretending not to know anything.   I
pretty much had the play mapped out in my head, but I didn’t want to fumble the
ball and give them something that would raise suspicion.   I couldn’t blow it, if I said nothing.   I asked for details, but they were giving up
as much as I was.   After ten minutes, we
ran out the clock.
    I
saw them out.   As I threaded them through
the office, heads poked up from cluttered cubes.   Prairie dog faces scanned me to see if I was
a witness or a criminal.   To show my
innocence, and to highlight that I wasn’t blind, I nodded to some and waved to
others.   I held the door open and
followed the detectives out onto the street.
    English
handed me his card.   “Call me anytime, if
you think of anything.”
    “Of
course,” I promised.   “Anything and I’ll
call.”
    We
shook and parted.   I returned to my
office and told my boss I was taking the rest of the day off.   He totally understood.   I called Jane to tell her.   She was in tears when she answered.   I told her I was coming straight over.   We’d go somewhere and talk it out.   I imagined the scene.   She’d cry buckets and I would be the strong
one.   Holding her, gently rocking,
telling her it would be okay.   Maybe, I’d
even shed a few tears of my own.   I would
be everything the good friend should be, mourning the death of his best friend.
    Fumbling
for keys in the staff parking lot, English’s business card came out.   I examined it and grunted.   I had no intention of calling.   There was no need.   I knew they’d be back.
    At
first glance, Lance and Blade’s murder/suicide looked convincing enough.   But I hadn’t had the time to make the
deception perfect.   There were loose
ends.   Even a third rate cop would see
the cracks.   But I’d taken that into
account.
    Oh
yeah, I knew they would be back, but I was ready for them.
    ***
    It took them three days to figure
out I was full of shit.   This time, my
interrogation wasn’t a friendly discussion over tea in the boardroom.   It was downtown in a utilitarian and musty smelling interview room.   They had their game faces on and I declined