“Pretty convenient,” Heller quipped, he’d been acting the part of the bad cop for the past few hours.
“Look, if I could remember anything I’d tell you,” I pleaded.
They sat stone faced and stared back at me.
“I’ve no idea where Barkwell even lives.”
“And yet we have a 911 call reporting a red 1995, Cadillac DeVille, weaving across the center lane shortly after three in the morning, not four blocks from Thompson Barkwell’s home. Amazingly, you drive a red 1995, Cadillac DeVille, don’t you?” Heller asked.
“No.”
“No?”
“My car’s more of a burgundy.”
“Oh.”
“Broken left tail light?”
“No, it just shorts out once in a while.”
“So it might have at least appeared to be broken, even if it was only a short?” Heller asked.
Louie shook his head.
“Possibly,” I felt on pretty solid ground.
“Blue door on the passenger side?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so. Surprise, surprise, a vehicle very similar to yours is spotted in the vicinity at close to the approximate time of death. And, the following day we find Thompson Barkwell beaten to death in the basement of his home with your invoice stuffed in his mouth,” Heller said.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“You’d expressed to me personally, the day we met in the K-R-A-Z offices that you were expecting some difficulty in getting paid, isn’t that correct?” Manning jumped in.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I think you suggested you weren’t happy about having some sort of board review your invoice, is that correct?”
“No, well, what I meant was…”
“Don’t answer that,” Louie said.
“The board was going to review my invoice and I didn’t want to wait for a month before the board met, that’s all. I wasn’t worried about getting approved, just the time frame,” I thought my explanation sounded reasonable.
“So you thought you’d go over after a few drinks and get the check, right?”
“No.”
“You were pretty upset when Thompson Barkwell gave you the check, weren’t you?” Heller again.
“No.”
“Did you assault him?” Heller asked.
“No.”
“You didn’t assault anyone?”
“No.”
“Do you know a Matthias C. Hogue?” Manning jumped in.
“No.”
“He claims you assaulted him, during your meeting when Thompson Barkwell paid your invoice.”
“Don’t answer that,” Louie said.
“Bullshit. I didn’t assault… Wait, you don’t mean that fool in the camouflage? The little fat guy? He had a gun for Christ sake, I just disarmed him is all.”
“And threatened Mister Hogue and Mister Barkwell?”
“Don’t answer that?” Louie said.
“No.”
“You didn’t point your hand like a pistol and shoot Mister Hogue and Mister Barkwell, in fact make to shoot Barkwell twice?”
“Don’t answer that,” Louie said.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a threat, it was a warning.”
“A warning?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Gentlemen, might we take a brief moment, I’d like to confer with my client,” Louie said, sounding frustrated.
Heller exhaled loudly then nodded, got up from the table and walked out. Manning and Aaron followed. Aaron looked at me on the way out and shook his head. As soon as they were out of the room Louie glared at me and said, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I thought…”
“Don’t think. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve managed to find some even thinner ice and push us out onto it. Jesus Christ will you Shut. The. Hell. Up. Dev. You are not helping.”
“But I…”
“No, just shut up.” He glanced at his watch, “it’s almost five, I’m calling it quits for the day. Remember what I told you, someone asks you how you want your eggs done you don’t answer unless I tell you what to say, got it?”
I nodded.
“Good, now not another word, it’s only the rest of your life we’re dealing with here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Despite the luxurious private cell and paper thin pad for a mattress I didn’t sleep worth a damn. We were back at it by ten the following morning, in same room, with the same flickering light, only I think the place smelled a little worse.
Louie threatened to strangle me if I said one word without his express approval. I’d been responding to the same questions for the past couple of hours, only this time with one word answers after the okay from Louie. Aaron wasn’t with us, but Heller seemed to have more than enough fire in his belly to pick up any slack.
“So, you know, I was thinking last night. How do you guess a great looking woman like Kiki ended up with a fat load like Thompson Barkwell?” Heller sort of glanced around the room, today we were all just pals talking.
“No wonder she was attracted to you, right?” he said.
I didn’t respond.
“So then I got to wondering, when you went over to Barkwell’s the other night it’s amazing you didn’t get stopped for speeding. I mean good looking woman like that, tied to the bed just waiting for you. Must have been tough to even leave, right?”
I stared straight faced.
“You drive over there on Snelling or did you take Hamline, you know and avoid the construction?”
“I don’t think my client was able to take either route actually, Detective Heller. While I understand you’ve got some serious problems on your hands, the murder of Thompson Barkwell and the supposed rape of his estranged wife, I’m sure you received the same report I finally got this morning. Mister Haskell’s toxicology results? You did receive the report didn’t you?” Louie asked, and then pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase.
He lowered his head and made a show of pulling his reading glasses down slightly, then peered over the top across the table at Heller and Manning.
Heller nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“If I might bring your attention to page three, paragraph two, of the toxicology report gentlemen. This is the analytical report regarding Mister Haskell’s urinalysis and blood workup.”
Heller and Manning suddenly appeared crestfallen. Heller thumbed through his file until he brought out four or five pages stapled together in the upper left corner.
“Good,” Louie smiled coldly. “If you’d care to follow from the second sentence as I read.” He cleared his throat then began, “detection of sufficient quantity of flunitrazepam with the resulting effect of profound intoxication, an inability to remember events, possible amnesia, and excessive sedation. Other adverse effects include gastrointestinal disturbances lasting twelve hours or more. Gentlemen, someone fed my client Ecstasy and Roofies,” Louie said and casually tossed his copy of the toxicology report on the table.
“I’m afraid that sounds just a little too convenient,” Heller stammered.
“Look you’ve pounded on my client for almost three days here. Mister Haskell can’t remember a thing. Your own report indicates he was so severely drugged he was incapable of functioning. Let’s face it, he’s been set up. If I were you, I’d be out there looking to find out who and why?”
Amazingly, Louie seemed to have taken the wind out of their sails and they never got it back. I was back in my private cell by three that afternoon. About three-thirty, Louie and a sheriff’s deputy escorted a young woman to my cell. Although I couldn’t see them I could hear their approach based on all the whistles and cat calls.
“Dev, Amanda Nguyen, Amanda, Dev Haskell,” Louie introduced her through the window in the steel door. The sheriff’s deputy gave a nod back down the corridor to the central area so they would open my cell door. It was all computerized and the door opened electronically.
“Nice to meet you,” Amanda smiled, oblivious to her surroundings or the cat calls and whistles that continued. She stepped into my cell as the door opened with an audible click.