Superbia s-1

by Bernard Schaffer

  Vic turned to Mrs. Lamia and said, “We’re all done for now. How about you take Beth outside and wait, so I can talk to your husband for a minute, okay?” Vic put his hand on Beth’s head and said, “I’ll see you soon kiddo.”

  He waited for them to leave, then shut the door. Paul Lamia was sitting on the table with his arms folded. Petulant. Injured. “You people are sick,” he hissed. “You forced a little girl to set up an old man who probably won’t live another two years.”

  Vic ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat gathering on his brow. “I’ve seen some amazing things on this job, Mr. Lamia, but you take the cake.”

  “I want to know what you’re going to do now.”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “I demand you give me an answer!”

  Vic smiled malevolently and said, “Too bad.”

  Paul got up and headed for the door when Vic shot his hand out in front of him and said, “There’s a surveillance unit at Uncle Petey’s house, and we’re tapping his phones. If you try to alert him in any way to this investigation, I will arrest you for obstruction. Do you understand me?”

  Paul Lamia grunted and pushed his way past, following after his wife and daughter at a near-run. “Think he bought it?” Frank said.

  Vic shrugged and said, “Don’t know. Don’t care. We’re arresting Uncle Petey tonight either way.” He looked at his watch and said, “I have to go take care of something for a little while. Can you get started on the criminal complaint and when I get back, we’ll get the warrant?”

  “Sure. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just need to go see somebody.”

  * * *

  There was a light on inside the house. Through the curtains he could make out the shape of a small figure sitting at the dining room table. He reached for the door handle, thought better of it, and decided to knock. Fast footfalls of tiny feet came racing across the floor.

  “Who is it?”

  “I’ll give you a hint,” Vic said. “I’m the guy that loves you more than anybody else does on the whole planet.”

  The door flew open and Vic’s daughter Penelope smiled so brightly at him it shined. He scooped her up into his arms and kissed her on the face. She kissed him back and they made silly noises at one another with their noses until Vic saw his wife come out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see my little girl,” Vic said. “Is that so wrong?”

  “You didn’t call,” she said. “You’re supposed to call first before you come over.”

  Vic bounced Penelope in his arms and said, “Daddy knocked though, didn’t he? That should count for something. I didn’t just come in, right?”

  “Did you bring that hundred dollars?”

  “Jesus, can I walk in the door first before you start hitting me up for things?” He put his daughter down and said, “No, I didn’t. I don’t get my overtime check until next week. I’ll give you what I can then.”

  “I need that money for her school, Vic. I can’t afford to pay for the things you’re supposed to take care of.”

  “I give you three hundred a week, Danni! I’ve barely got enough to live off of after I’m done paying the bills. Why can’t you take it out of that?”

  Danni grunted and said, “Maybe you should have thought of that before.”

  Vic looked at her for a moment, and then bent down to Penelope and said, “I missed you. That’s why I came over.”

  The little girl took his hand in hers and led him toward the table, “Want to see what I was drawing?”

  Vic looked at the swirl of colors on the paper and gasped, “That is the most beautiful drawing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I made it for you.”

  Vic picked it up and pressed it to his chest, “I will hang it up on my refrigerator the second I get home.”

  “What are you doing Friday night?” Danni said.

  “Probably working.”

  “I need you to watch the kids.”

  “So you can go out?”

  “I have things to do.”

  “I work five days a week and have the kids every weekend, Danni. Somehow, I still manage to get things done.”

  “Weekends are my me-time,” she said.

  “When do I get me-time?”

  “You lost that when you decided to abandon your children, Vic.”

  He snatched her by the arm and pulled her around the corner into the kitchen. She punched at his hand and yelled, “Get off of me! If I have any bruises so help me God I will call the cops on you.”

  He let go of her arm and said, “Good! Call them! And if I get locked up, I lose my benefits and money and so do you and the kids, genius.”

  “You are a piece of shit!”

  He leveled a finger at her face and said, “Don’t say I abandoned my kids one more time. Not one more time.”

  “Or else what, Vic?”

  He put his hand down and said, “Just don’t do it. It isn’t true, and it isn’t fair. I have them almost as much as you do. You asked me to leave. I didn’t abandon them.”

  “Get out.”

  Vic walked over to where his daughter was coloring and kissed the top of her head. He told her he loved her and would see her in two days. “Where’s Jason?”

  “He’s outside with his friends,” Danni said.

  “I’ll go find him.”

  Danni followed him to the door, “If you don’t have that money, I’m not letting you take the kids this weekend.”

  He stopped at the door and turned toward her, keeping his voice low when he said, “If you ever try to keep them from me, your money stops, and I will hire an attorney to fight you for full custody.”

  “Ha, as if you would get custody.”

  He walked outside and said, “Let me know when you want to go to court, Danni.” The door slammed shut behind him. There were kids playing on the next block, and he headed for them. “Jason?” he called out, waving his hand. “Hey, Jason!”

  The boy waved to his friends and ran up the street toward him. They hugged and Vic kissed him on his head. “What are you doing here, Pop?”

  “I came to see you guys. Were you busy with your friends? I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Nah, we were just playing. It’s almost dinner time.”

  Vic held out his hand, and the boy took it. He was only eleven, and that wasn’t yet old enough that’s he’d be hesitant to hold hands with his old man in front of his friends. Maybe next year, Vic thought. “I’m glad you’re going home. Mom got pretty upset with me.”

  Jason shook his head and said, “She just gets like that. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Does she say bad things about me to you guys?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Okay, good. She’s a good mom.”

  “Yep.”

  “Am I a good dad?”

  Jason looked at him and rolled his eyes, “Come on, Dad.”

  Vic shrugged and said, “Okay. I just want to make sure. If I’m ever not doing it right, you let me know. That’s your job.”

  Jason shrugged and said, “So far so good.”

  11

  Pete Lamia’s house was a modest split-level with a well-maintained lawn. It was the same design as all the other houses in the neighborhood. A stained glass picture of Jesus filled the living room’s bay window.

  There was a light on upstairs and television light flickering in the den downstairs. Vic knocked on the door several times and rang the doorbell. An old man lumbered up the steps, grimacing as he braced his hand against his knees. He had on a flannel shirt that was tucked into his sweatpants. He wore orthopedic shoes. Peter Lamia opened the door and looked at Vic and Frank in amazement. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

  Vic laughed sharply and said, “Yeah, I think so, Mr. Lamia. Grab your coat. You’re coming with us.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “Seriously? Don’t stand here and make me sp
ell it all out so all your neighbors can hear, sir. Just grab your coat and come quietly and I won’t handcuff you and drag you down the front steps.”

  An old woman limped down the stairs, “Pete? What’s going on?”

  “It’s the police, dear. They are putting me under arrest.”

  “What? How dare you!” she shouted. “That deceitful little brat. I knew she was planning something like this! I knew it!”

  “Calm down, Eris,” Pete said. “Everything will be fine. I’m just going to go with them and sort this all out. I’ll be back soon.”

  She grabbed onto her husband’s arm, “You aren’t going anywhere until I call an attorney.”

  Vic’s eyes narrowed, “Lady, I’m going to do this the easy way or the hard way. Get your hands off of him before I lose my temper.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she shouted.

  Frank gently took hold of Mrs. Lamia’s arm, escorting her away from her husband. “Let’s everybody calm down. Ma’am, we are conducting an investigation and we need to talk to Pete. You are welcome to come with us if you want.”

  “No she isn’t,” Vic said.

  “I’ll get my coat,” she said.

  “She can drive herself over to the station and wait in the lobby,” Frank said. “Go put him in the car and I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  Vic led the old man down the front steps, keeping a firm grip on his arm. “At least your partner has some decency,” Pete said.

  Vic leaned close to him and said, “Shut your fucking mouth before I accidentally roll you into the street when a car drives past.” He shoved Pete against the car and pulled his hands behind his back. He slapped on the first handcuff and heard Pete yowl as the steel arm cinched around his wrist.

  “I’m seventy-five years old, you son of a gun,” Pete said. “You’ll break my darn wrists.”

  “Aw, that’s terrible,” Vic said. He snapped the other cuff on just as hard and then clicked both cuffs closed until steel ground against bone and Pete shrieked in pain. He threw the door open and grabbed a handful of Pete’s thin white hair as tight as he could and shoved him down inside the vehicle. Pete fell into the seat sideways with a cry.

  Frank hurried down the steps as Mrs. Lamia fumbled with the front door lock. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Vic got into the car and started the engine. “Get in or you can ride back with the old bitch.”

  Frank ran around to the passenger side and jumped in. He looked back at Pete, writhing in pain, shouting, “My hands are going numb. Please loosen these.”

  Frank turned back to Vic, “Dude, you need to calm down.”

  Vic jammed the car into reverse and screeched backwards out of the driveway, leaving the old woman struggling to get into her car and follow. “Hey! All you are doing is creating a problem for us down the road!” Frank said.

  “There is no down the road. Don’t you see that yet? There’s just tonight, and this child molesting piece of shit who is about to tell us every fucking sin he’s ever committed or I’m going to beat him to a fucking pulp.”

  “Please, please loosen these,” Pete moaned.

  “Your wrists are about to be the least of your troubles, asshole,” Vic snarled.

  “He’s going to bruise,” Frank said. “His arms are going to turn purple and we’re going to lose the entire goddamn case because of you.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Pull the car over,” Frank said.

  “No.”

  “Pull the car over before I punch you in the fucking face!”

  Vic slammed on the brakes so hard that the air smelled like burnt plastic. Frank leaned back over his seat and said, “Turn around.”

  “God bless you. Bless you for being kind,” Pete muttered.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Frank screamed. “I didn’t do this for you.” He shoved the old man forward and stuck his handcuff key into the slot to loosen the cuffs. Pete gasped in relief and Frank told him to sit back and be quiet.

  They drove in silence for a while, until Vic finally mumbled, “Thanks for ruining my chance at softening him up for the interview, douchebag.”

  * * *

  Frank got out of the car and went to the back to let Pete out. The station door slammed shut in Vic’s wake. “Come on, sir. We’re going inside.”

  “Your partner’s going to hurt me, isn’t he? He’s going to beat me like I’m some sort of criminal.”

  “Nobody’s going to beat you, I promise.”

  Pete shifted across the seat, coming toward the open door, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear to God. I swear on the Holy Bible.”

  “Then you don’t have anything to worry about.” He reached down and helped Pete to his feet. He escorted the old man into the station and led him down the hall to the interview room. Pete sat down and Frank uncuffed one of his hands and attached it to a metal bar on the table. “Let me take a look at your wrists,” he said. They were red, with impressions in the skin from the metal, but no bruising.

  Vic was sitting outside of the interview room, staring at one of the desks. He did not look up as Frank said, “Listen, are we going to do this or not?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. He sat down on the desk and folded his arms. “So let’s say we just put him in a cell and wait for him to see the judge. Is that what you want? Beth will have to testify and get torn apart by a defense attorney.”

  Vic did not budge.

  “Or, we put our personal feelings aside and go get a confession from this bastard. With that and the wire, there is no way he’ll try to fight it. Otherwise, you’re forcing that little girl into a trial.” Frank shrugged and said, “I’m sure her dad won’t do anything to screw that up, right?”

  Vic smirked and said, “I manipulate people. I don’t get manipulated. Nice try, though. Somebody’s been teaching you well, rookie.”

  * * *

  They let Pete Lamia sit in the interview room while they watched him through the one-way mirror. “Some schools of thought say you can tell a suspect’s guilt by how they act when they’re sitting in the interview room. If they are alert and anxious, it means they’re innocent. If they get sleepy and relax, they say it is an indication of guilt.”

  Pete was sitting motionless, sunk down in his chair. Frank frowned and said, “I can’t tell if he’s awake, asleep, or just old.”

  They walked into the interview room and Pete said, “When do I get my phone call?”

  “When you get to jail,” Vic said. “Do you understand that you’re under arrest?”

  Pete shook his head and said, “No.”

  Vic looked confused and said, “Well, the handcuffs on your wrist mean that is what you are.”

  “I mean that I don’t understand what I’m under arrest for.”

  “We’ll get to that,” Vic said. “In fact, there are several very important things I want to tell you that I think you need to know, but first, I have to read you your rights.”

  “I already know them,” Pete said. “I watch those cop shows, about the crime scene people.”

  “Is that right?” Vic slid a form stating the Miranda Warnings across the table and said, “Read this. If you agree to hear what I have to say, sign the bottom. If you just want to go see the judge, that’s fine too.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide,” Pete said. He picked up a pen and scribbled his name on the bottom of the form. “This is all a huge misunderstanding.”

  Vic took the form back and hid it under the table. “So explain it to me.”

  “Beth is like my granddaughter. I raised her dad and his brother after their father, my brother, died. God rest his soul. We don’t have any children, so they’re all we’ve got. Everybody that knows me knows what kind of person I am. I spent twenty years on the school board. I wouldn’t do these kinds of things you are accusing me of.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. Beth is.”

  Pete nodded and waved his hands, �
�She’s a little bit of a drama queen. Did they tell you that? She’s the kind of girl that does things for attention.”

  Vic shifted in his seat and folded his hands on the table. “She’s needy.”

  “Exactly. She wants me to come in and read to her every night. Give me a kiss, Uncle Petey. Rub my back. That sort of thing.”

  “So do you?”

  “Sometimes,” he shrugged. “She takes things a little too far sometimes and I have to tell her it isn’t appropriate.”

  Frank opened his mouth to say, “Get the f—” but stopped talking when Vic held up his hand.

  “It happens,” Vic said. “Little girls want to explore. They have questions, right?”

  “They do!” Pete said. “These kids today, they listen to the rap music and see the TV with everybody naked and they act older than they are. I tell her all the time to slow down and be a kid, but she’s always insisting.”

  “I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Lamia. I think she brought a lot of this on herself. What happened was, her mom got hysterical about things and forced the kid to come in. She didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Some mother,” Pete muttered. “Always harping on poor Paul about this and that.”

  “Listen, I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Lamia,” Vic said. He stood up and took several steps away from them before he turned, cupping his chin like he was an academic professor. “We know something happened between the two of you. We have evidence of that. What I need to determine, what the court will need to know, is did it happen by force or was it something else?” Vic stopped walking and clapped his hands together loud enough to make both men jump in their seats, then he spread them wide and wiggled his fingers like a circus showman, “Something harder to fathom. Something… special.” Vic’s eyes lit up, “A moment, Mr. Lamia. A moment of love.”

  “Of course it was love. I love her.”

  “Did she get wet when you touched her?”

  “What?”

  “Did she get wet when you touched her down there? Did her body respond to you?”