I'd Run If I Were You

by Chaz Siu

“Do you know what I'm here for?”

“Murder one, Jack. Let's rebuild a bond and play Quiz Show with the sociopath. ”

“Is that so?”

“That fellow down in Mobile looked more like you than me. I do feel odd bits of remorse and compassion about snuffing him, but turf is turf. Gotta protect it. That count for anything?”

“Not in any state I know of.”

“Anyhow, strung him up. Not much left now, I suppose.”

“Can you share any location details?”

“To save your career? I hate having to repeat myself. So I won't.”

“It's Thanksgiving. Get me home to my family. Go over it one more time.”

“What about taking me home to family? This is my skull we're talking about.”

“I can't do that and you know it. Anyhow, this is convenient babble when you're in the hotseat. I need answers.”

“Let's talk about something else.”

“What, then?”

“Chronologically speaking, I get it all jumbled up. Details are perfectly straight in my head, mind you. Guess it's a confusion filter on the way out.”

“Sounds like rationalization.”

“Whatever you want to call it is fine. It's quaint to tell the truth to any of you so called human lie detectors. That's a myth.”

“Am I heading home?”

“Are you telling me I'm stalling? Look for a break, a phrase, a stray mannerism, dilated pupils, isn't that what your textbook says?”

“Remind me why it is I'm here and not on the train home. My wife is starting to look like a saint.”

“Frightening what passes for marriage these days.”

“I'm waiting.”

“So was she.”

“Excuse me?”

“She told me she waited a lot. A perk of the husband she picked.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I pick up on small details. Telephones and conversation in places people gather when they think they're not overheard. I could make a fortune in blackmail.”

“Preying on the weak is a hallmark of yours.”

“Let me guess what you'll get the wife for Christmas this year.”

“You came to us, so talk. There are families waiting for all this to end.”

“Roses. Fire and ice hybrids.”

“You're boring me. We know all this.”

“You might try a real Fendi clutch. Magnificently unaffordable, but oh, the look on her face! Gazing, adoring, longing. Must've held it ten minutes at the counter.”

“OK, I'm game. What happens next in this fantasy of yours?”

“Skeptic. Pity you. What time is it?”

“Eight. Just about my limit, I'm afraid.”

“You didn't break once for a phone call. I admire your persistence.”

“I have a job at hand.”

“Hoping I'll piece together the puzzle for you.”

“That's the most honest observation you've had all night. Time's up. I'm going home.”

“To what? What time did you say I walked into the station? Seems like forever.”

“I don't know. Three or four, I'd imagine.”

“Definitely not before four.”

“Clock's up there on the wall, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“I did notice. I dread saying this, but trust me on the details here.”

“That's always good for a laugh.”

“Fire and ice roses. Faux Fendi because she couldn't afford the real thing. A shade of lipstick, early morning magenta. Always her lovely taste in perfume.”

“I'm not impressed. It's the holidays. Every woman I know wants this kind of drivel.”

“More, then? Midday sun shining on a Bimini blue Ford Escort wagon parked in a bad neighborhood with Jesus fish plastered to the rear window and a bouncy back seat, full of dried fluids and stains. She shook in the cold like a jackhammer. Did you know about the shelter visits? She thought you'd disapprove. I can see by your face she was correct.”

“What exactly are you jabbering on about?”

“They say it's supposed to be safer there during the afternoon. But it's deceptive like the weather. Perfectly sunny and it's thirty below.”

“Can we please finish this conversation?”

“Temper, temper. You look like you need some water. Or dial tone and a familiar voice.”

“The only sound I hear is a clock telling me it's time to get out of here.”

“Why not ease your mind? Ringy dingy, right here and now.”

“Not on account of the garbage you're spewing.”

“More clues? You glutton! Burgundy wool coat, stood out like beacon in the projects. It's unbelievably loud in the alleys. The ambient noise down there. Gotta scream to be heard and even then you're mostly ignored.”

“I don't doubt you've seen us out in public. So has everyone else.”

“She went down there alone, which is a mistake even in broad daylight. But let me put it to you this way: Passive past perfect, as in ‘he had been watching her for days'. The end of future present: as in “dinner will be on the table tonight. She had fine dentistry, but any tooth enamel will snap off with the right tools”

“What have you done, wretch?”

“You just called me a name and that makes us friends again, right? She had navy Dockers for dress down places. A fuzzy chartreuse sweater. Hard to tell the color afterwards.”

“Don't be fooled by the oath I hold. I can hurt you.”

“Ha! I tell you, the end is always bits and pieces of ‘I'm sorries' and ‘I love so and so's' with a little Miss Manners thrown in, isn't it? ‘Please don't this' and ‘Please don't that'. Useless tripe, all of it.”

“You may be my brother, but it'll be hell in a heartbeat for you if there's any truth to this.”

“Then I'll be sure and say hello to your beloved Juliet for you.”