Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done.

by Storyteller, Bad-Boy

  “Well, that’s real nice, Joshua…But listen: I believe you need to answer some questions. And I’m sure you would agree it would be in your best interest if you just came in of your own accord. To go on the record, rather than the newspapers printing some distorted facts from an arresting officer. Remember Detective Cools?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Well, how would you like the media running with his version of the events?”

  There’s a pause. Then Janice strikes again. “We should give them your version— that is, unless you’re fearful of something. But you don’t seem to be the timid type.”

  There’s another long pause. She can hear him breathing, the same malevolent panting she heard on the news. Then in a more sinister voice, his real voice, he asks, “Do you know Detective Cools?”

  “Yeah…I know Detective Cools.”

  “Good. I would like to hear you say, ‘Detective Cools missed his chance.’”

  The statement stuns her. Her mind runs wild considering what he means. Is he saying Kimberly was there? Was her dead body in the house?

  “Say it, Janice!” he demands.

  “And if I do?”

  “Then we both get what we ask for.”

  She wastes no time and replies verbatim, “Detective Cools missed his chance.”

  Joshua lets out an eerie laugh and says, “Does seven o’clock work for you?”

  “Yes, yes it does.”

  Still chuckling, he says, “There’s just one more thing.”

  “What? You name it.”

  “I think I did it!”

  Her heart flutters; she feels faint, dizzy; she is not even sure she wants to ask the next question. “You did what, Joshua?”

  “I will enlighten you later, as you will enlighten me regarding the color I asked for!” He hangs up.

  Janice trembles in her seat. She holds the phone out to Captain Jackson, saying, “I think I will take that drink now.”

  “Yeah, all right, anything for you. That was the most amazing thing I ever heard. You did good, Janice—real good.” He pours her a drink and watches her gulp it down. “Ha-ha. Are you sure you’re not an alcoholic?”

  “No,” she replies. “That creep makes me so nervous. I am just so glad it’s over. And correct me if I’m wrong, but did he just say, ‘I think I did it’?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “I thought I was going to drop the phone. But he couldn’t possibly be arrogant enough to believe he can admit to it outright. He’s up to something. I’m just not sure as to what.”

  “Oh, he’s up to something all right, but it won’t work. Let me tell you how this all plays out: the more they say, the more information we get, the more we can use against them. We just simply have to keep ’em talking.”

  “Okay, then I guess I’m a real crime cracker.”

  “Yes, you are,” he says, and smiles at her. He can see that she’s still shaken.

  “I’m going to go home now and get into a soothing bubble bath—maybe even stop and get some more alcohol,” she says, hoping with everything she has that this is all finished for her.

  Captain Jackson blows out a hearty breath and tells her, “Janice, I’m not gonna lie to you: you’re gonna do the interview.”

  “No, I cannot! You can use Michelle; voices sound different over the phone, and…. and she can listen to the recording, so she knows what was said.”

  Captain Jackson pauses, sees the worry in her eyes, and tries to console her. “You know you have to.” She doesn’t resist any further, just slumps back, dismayed, staring at the wall. He gives her a halfhearted pep talk, trying to instill courage. But deep down, they both know his words are disingenuous at best. The real truth be told, Joshua Siconolfi even scares the shit out of him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Well, the news begins anew. I’m Sheppard Smith in studio B, and the news starts now.

  “You’re not going to believe this: new discoveries in a story we played last week. Remember Joshua Siconolfi—sure you do—the guy who called a live local radio station and did, well, what sounded like murdering his wife. You may also remember, though, how the whole thing was put to bed, due to the fact that his wife—his stripper wife, might I add—was as safe as a stripper can be inside a stripper bar. Now it turns out, the coworker lied when she confirmed her whereabouts.

  “So let’s break it down. Joshua Siconolfi was excused for his exploits— pranks, as it seems—because his exotic-dancing wife was all safe and sound well after the fact. But now, new reports say she was missing before the incident. And this changes everything, not to mention raises a few questions.

  “So the cops look into it and find out the wife—by the way, her name is Kimberly—also had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend: he was the deputy mayor of Tacoma. I say was, because—and check this out—when police went to his home to ask him some questions, he apparently had committed suicide. Do I have your attention now? You can’t make this stuff up. And why does Scott Peterson come to mind? So we go now to our correspondent, live in Seattle.”

  “Hi, Shep; Anthony Westlake here. I’m standing outside the Siconolfi residence. We have not seen him yet, but earlier today, from one of our sister stations, Tabatha Sterns reported he was involved in some kind of high-speed chase with police. And we’ve also learned from neighbors that the Siconolfi’s had a rocky relationship, telling us that authorities have been called to this home on many occasions for domestic violence and out-of-control parties. Also, Shep, we’re being told that Joshua did time for third degree vehicular assault on a former girlfriend.”

  Sheppard recaps, “So we have strippers, lies, felonies, high-speed car chases, suicide, and maybe even murder…wow!” A picture pops up. “And you’re looking now at one Joshua Siconolfi on the screen. Good-looking guy isn’t he? And I’m sure we’ll be hearing more on this. I wish I could spend more time, but as it turns out, there’s other news.

  “Remember the bailout package for Chrysler and GM? You know; we were told that Congress was going to—”

  Captain Jackson clicks off the television. Looking anxiously around the war room, he asks, “All right, is everyone here?” After another quick glance around and a few acknowledgments, he holds a hand out, presenting Janice, who grudgingly smiles from ear to ear. He begins, “All right, here’s the deal. Joshua’s coming in. Janice’s plan worked, and she’s gonna interview him. He will know her as ‘Detective’ Janice Dryer.” He looks at his watch. “He should be here at seven o’clock.” Every face in the room expresses surprise. “Now, I have to give a press conference no later than eight. So give me something guys. Cools, Robertson, what do you got?”

  “Not much, Captain,” Michelle begins, “except for a few sordid facts about Kimberly. Turns out she was kinda weird; she followed some kind of ancient Egyptian religion: Ra. Also she talked of violence a lot. And I don’t know what this means, but she left a message on Trace’s phone stating that she tested positive for HIV eight days ago.”

  “Yes, we already heard this.”

  “I know,” Michelle continues, “but she and Amberly were tested on the same day at Washington Medical Center. And they were both negative.” She holds a piece of paper in her hand. “This is Kimberly’s test result, left behind in the floorboard of Amberly’s car.”

  “So why would she lie?” asks Officer Smithe.

  “I don’t know; I really haven’t any idea,” she replies, appearing perplexed. Officer Smithe makes a notation and leaves it at that.

  Then Cools jumps in, adding, “I remember hearing something about the god Ra in preparation to Joshua’s assault trial, from a statement made by—oh what was her name?” He clicks his thumb and finger together, trying to snap her name from midair. “I just read it—oh, Sherry—Sherry Hill. She told of his religious practices. And I know this is going to sound gross, but one of the rituals he performs is where he ejaculates into a golden urn and places it into a fire, where it is burned as an off
ering.”

  This at once appalls everyone in the room; mouths drop wide open; even Captain Jackson, who thought he’d heard it all, nervously scratches his scalp. Michelle stares down at her feet, shaking her head, while Janice loses color and appears to almost get sick. She holds her hand over her mouth and coughs, losing confidence, worrying even more about what she’s gotten herself into.

  “That is so wrong,” Detective Fredo says, trying to fit in.

  “All right, Detective Fredo, what did you get out of Maggie?” Captain Jackson asks abruptly, wanting to move along, at the same time catching Janice’s dispirited aura. Her apparent weakness conflicts him greatly, to the point that, even at this late state in the game, he rethinks using her. To him she seems scholastically gifted but lacking the street smarts she’ll surely need. He also senses he is not the only one who shares his sentiment.

  JFK says, “Yes, Captain Jackson, we have the tape of Trace’s call to the suicide hotline stating he knew Joshua killed Kimberly. But other than that, it doesn’t tie in anywhere to Joshua, except for the fact Trace was involved with his wife. So I got all her information and sent her home, boss, leaving my schedule open for any further assistance.”

  Captain Jackson gestures his approval, saying, “I think I might have something in mind.” He then looks to Officer Smithe, who speaks up directly, stating, “I too have nothing so far on Trace Friesen, other than what we already know. But that being said,” he carries on with confidence, “I do believe it is vital that I continue further in this part of the investigation as I am getting the sense this may be political—that there’s much more to all this than simply Joshua or his dead wife.”

  “You think maybe Kimberly found out something?” asks Cools.

  Officer Smithe shakes his head, before answering, “Well, it’s too early to speculate, but I do believe it’s important for me to continue.”

  “And I think you’re right, Smithe, and that’s exactly where I intend to keep you. You’re gonna stay on the big, big case all right.” Officer Smithe receives his words like a gift. And his obvious expression of gratefulness does not go unobserved by anyone. At once Captain Jackson realizes something of greater importance—the compassion extended to him from everyone in the room, a man they barely know. His team is coming together, which is the age-old key for any successful investigation. A quick smirk then crosses his face as he turns his attention to Officer Jakew. “All right, did you get anything from the Kitty Club?”

  “Well, I did talk to some of the girls and—”

  “Yeah, I bet you did,” Michelle pipes in. “I bet you did.”

  Officer Jakew blushes a bit, then ignoring Michelle’s comment, reports, “I just got some of the same stuff Detective Robertson was talking about. It sounds like she was a very odd, maybe even violent woman. She would make sick and twisted remarks from time to time. Most of the other girls were terrified of her. And unlike the other girls, she didn’t have any real schedule. This seems to have caused some jealousies; from what I get, Kimberly received a lot of special treatment, although no one knows why.”

  Next Captain Jackson turns to Milkowski. “What does this all add up to?”

  “Maybe a novel by Steven King. But none of this will get you an arrest warrant. Although…”—he holds up a finger—“I do have some good news. I have talked with Judge Cooper, and I think I can get a warrant for Joshua and Kimberly’s records: phone, credit cards, financial statements, properties, and so on.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Captain Jackson replies. “So, now here’s the deal, everyone. Joshua should be here shortly; Janice here is gonna interview him.” He pats her on the shoulder. “We’ll be watching and then go from there. Now, Detective Fredo?”

  “Yes, Captain Jackson.”

  “Get me a full report on the Ra religion. I want to get inside this guy’s head.”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “All right, then unless anyone else has more to add, we should get going.”

  “Um…” Officer Jakew asks, “What do you want me to do now?”

  “Go back to the Kitty Club. You’re gonna become a VIP there. Someone there knows something, and I need you to keep digging. Stop on your way out and talk to Sheila, in finance; she has a credit card waiting for you with a modest expense account. And try not have too much fun, all right?”

  Officer Jakew responds with just a short and sweet okay. But everyone can see the excitement burning in his eyes.

  The meeting is dispersed.

  Captain Jackson and Janice are seen leaving together, heading back to his office, while Michelle and Cools disappear in the other direction. He, as usual, is in the lead. They move swiftly down a long corridor back to the main lobby. On a hunch, they plan to set a trap.

  They find Officer Renny inside his cubicle eating a sub sandwich, the crumbs of which cover his belly. Michelle asks a couple of known questions concerning his earlier interview. Then Cools, appearing to make gossipy small talk, offers the latest of details.

  “I want you to know that your help was crucial to our investigation. And we’re going to get him this time around.”

  “What do you mean, ‘this time’?” Renny asks, taking the bait.

  “Well, we’ve learned that years ago Joshua was one of the prime suspects in the disappearance of his high school sweetheart.”

  “Really?”

  Michelle takes a rushed glance at her watch then declares, “We better get going, Brad.”

  The snare is set. Both Cools and Michelle believe the person leaking information to the media will soon be found out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Officer Lonnell, crouching in the corner of his cubicle, opens his phone. Some more fortune has just landed his way.

  Rainman: Joshua was prime suspect in murder of his high school sweetheart

  Chuck: Are you sure?—where is your information coming from

  Rainman: Detective Cools—is that good enough

  Chuck: Works for me. Fucking love you man

  Lonnell, wanting to swiftly leave the scene of the crime–his cubicle–heads for the break

  room. Along the way sees a couple of his co-workers watching something of great interest inside

  the booking seargents office. He lingers just outside and hears the announcer’s voice…“Breaking

  news here on CNN concerning Joshua Siconolfi, the Seattle resident who allegedly murdered his

  wife on a radio broadcast earlier this week. We go live to Andy Warn.”

  Andy Warn, an energetic young journalist with spiky hair, reports, “Just minutes ago Joshua was seen leaving his home, driving a red Lotus Elise. He was followed to where we are now—the Seattle Police Department’s downtown precinct. And it appears he has just, seemingly of his own accord, walked inside. Maybe to turn himself in; we don’t know. But what we can report is that Joshua is, as we speak, inside the station, talking with investigators. And a press conference with Captain Jerome Jackson is scheduled for eight o’clock.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Inside the interrogation room, Janice waits, nervously fidgeting with her skirt. It’s bad enough she has to interview a psychopath, but she has to do it in front of a full audience—with all of her skeptical coworkers watching, judging from the opposite side of the two-way mirror.

  “Relax, Janice; you’re going to do fine,” Cools announces over the speaker. “Just do what we’ve agreed to: let him control the interview; you just keep him talking.”

  She adjusts herself, finding a more comfortable position in the plastic chair, replying, “I’m okay; is he here?”

  “Yes, he’s coming in now; just stick to the plan,” Cools says again over the speaker, before turning it off and asking the captain, “Are you sure she can do this?”

  “Somewhat late for that now, don’t you think?”

  Then the door opens, and Joshua strolls in with a pleasant demeanor. Escorting him is an officer, who quickly vanishes, leaving the two all alone.
Janice notices he’s dressed casually in designer shorts and a silk dress shirt, as she offers a handshake. It’s a greeting he arrogantly ignores.

  Wearing a teasing smile, he takes a seat opposite the metal table from her, lays his keys and cell phone down, and flirtatiously asks, “Well?”

  Although she was hoping it wasn’t going to come up again, she knows exactly what he wants. Reluctantly she answers, “Red.”

  It’s as though her answer pleases him. He leans over the table, repulsively admiring her shape. Janice finds it incongruous that such a good-looking man could give her such a chill. Pretending it doesn’t faze her, she takes a quick breath and starts in. “You said, ‘I think I did it.’ You think you did what exactly?”

  “What do you think I meant, Janice?” he replies impetuously.

  “I don’t know. That is why I am asking you, Joshua.”

  “You’re telling me that you gave no thought at all as to what it meant?” he asks, his voice getting louder.

  “Well, some, but—”

  “Because it could mean many things, Janice—good or bad. It could mean ‘I fathered a child,’ or it could mean ‘I got the job,’ or it could mean ‘I sliced my neighbors’ dog’s fucking throat because it barked all time’!” As he says this, he mimics the deed, fracturing any steadiness she may have had into shards of absolute panic. And her distress is not so much as to what he’s said, rather more from the speed of his transformation, the instantaneous altering from relatively polite and cordial to pure savagery, his eyes even changing color, from sea-green to pure evil.

  She doesn’t respond, not sure of what is coming next. Neither of them moves a muscle. Their eyes remain locked as Janice secretly prays for the moment to end. Cools stands on alert behind the mirror. Then Joshua breaks the sharp silence and, in a more formal tone, states, “Or maybe it is how I wish for death.”

  Janice, not even sure that makes any sense, clears her throat and asks, “Do you…do you have a death wish?”