The officer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No disrespect intended, ma’am, but Sheriff Allen told me-”
“I could eat Sheriff Allen for breakfast.” Granny inched forward, pressing herself against him, practically nose to nose. “And spit him out again before lunch. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I–I-I-”
“Who’s the boss around here, soldier?”
He mouthed a silent “You are.”
“I’m glad we both understand that. If I need you, I’ll call.” She pointed toward the door. “Now get the hell out of here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer turned quickly and scampered off down the corridor.
Granny smiled. There was nothing like a small but effective display of power to stimulate her juices. But now for the task at hand.
She was not looking forward to this. It was not something she particularly wanted to do. But the fact was, the trial was not going entirely the way she wanted. Granted, she still had many tricks up her sleeve, but she had to take precautions. She had to make sure this thing didn’t slip away from her.
She opened the door and stepped into the small interrogation room. The prisoner was already seated and handcuffed to the table. “Good evening, Mr. Geppi.”
Geppi lifted his head out of his arms. He had longish black hair that tumbled around his ears and shoulders. He appeared to be in his early thirties, maybe younger, and looked as if he hadn’t shaved for several days. “Nice of you to show up. I been waitin’ over an hour.”
“I was delayed.” She sat in the wooden chair at the opposite end of the table, pushed it back, and crossed her legs in a way she knew was bound to attract a little attention. “Want a cigarette?”
“No thanks. I don’t do tobacco.” His eyes flickered up and down. His lower lip twitched. “Mind tellin’ me what this is all about?”
“Mr. Geppi, I thought it might be mutually beneficial if you and I had a little chat. Do you know who I am?”
He shrugged. “The deputy said somethin’. Like you work in the D.A.’s office.”
She leaned forward, her full breasts just touching the table. “Mr. Geppi, I am the D.A.’s office.” She paused, allowing the words to sink in. “I am the one who makes the decisions. I am the one who decides who goes free and who goes to prison for life. I am the one who holds your future in the palm of my hand.”
“Is this a plea bargain? ’Cause if it’s a plea bargain, I wanna lawyer.”
“This is not a plea bargain.” She smiled, an absolutely terrifying smile. “This is just a social chat.”
He edged back as far as he could with the handcuffs fixing him to the table. “Look, this is makin’ me nervous. I don’t wanna do this, okay? I ain’t done anything.”
“I beg to differ, Mr. Geppi.” She pulled a thin folder out of her soft leather briefcase. “You’ve been arrested for possession of an illegal narcotic, a dangerous designer drug that is creating tremendous concern and fear in this little community. Possession with intent to distribute.”
“Distribute? No way, lady.” He held up his hands. “I’m no pusher.”
“That’s not what my witnesses will say. They will identify you as a major supplier of this new drug, this scourge laying waste to the city’s youth. They’ll identify you as a major player, one with direct ties to the big boss man.”
“Have you totally lost it? That’s a crock.”
“Nonetheless, it’s what they’ll say. And you know what that means? It means you could get ten years in prison. Ten long years. And given the current climate of the community, I think you’ll serve every day of it.”
“There’s somethin’ wrong here,” Geppi insisted. Beads of sweat were popping out at his temples. “I didn’t do none of that. I don’t know any boss man. I was just looking for a good time. Bought myself a quick high. Someone’s framin’ me.”
Granny did not reply, but the strong arch of her eyebrow told Geppi everything he needed to know.
“You,” he whispered, his eyes widening. “You’re the one settin’ me up.”
She did not reply.
“Why? What is it you want?”
She leaned back in her chair, uncrossing then recrossing her magnificent legs. “Have you been enjoying your stay in the county jail, Mr. Geppi?”
He frowned. “It ain’t exactly the Holiday Inn.”
“It’ll seem like the Ritz compared to where you’re going next.” She paused, letting him think about the ramifications of that statement for a while. “How’s your cellmate?”
“Huh? What?” He didn’t follow.
“Haven’t you been in the cell next to George Zakin?”
“Oh, right. The tree freak. What of it?”
“I just wondered.” She laid her hands on the table and spread her long fingers. “Sometimes people talk in jail, you know. Not much else to do, I suppose.”
Geppi’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you gettin’ at?”
“Here’s the situation, Mr. Geppi. Mr. Zakin is the leader of a group of people who have been stirring up a lot of trouble. They’ve decommissioned equipment and blown up cars and generally interfered with the townfolks’ way of life. Lot of people don’t care much for what those troublemakers are doing. And nobody cares for murder. A poor innocent logger got shot, then burned to death in the intentional explosion of some expensive logging equipment. He died slowly and painfully.”
“And you think Zakin did it?”
“Oh, I know he did. It’s proving it that’s the trick. That’s why I wondered if maybe you heard Zakin say something about the crime while he was in the cell.”
“Sorry, lady. Ain’t heard him mention it.”
“Are you sure about that, Mr. Geppi? I want you to be absolutely sure about that. Because you see, ten years is an awful long time to be locked up in Collinsgate prison. It’s a dirty, nasty place. Inmates are always gettin’ hurt or killed. Slashed up bad. And a handsome young man like you-well, you would be very popular with some of the inmates that have … specialized tastes. If you know what I mean.”
Geppi’s teeth clenched up. “What are you gettin’ at, lady?”
“I just want you to think very hard, Mr. Geppi. I want you to think very hard about whether maybe you’ve heard Mr. Zakin say anything about this crime he committed. Maybe even heard him confess to this crime he’s committed.” She drew her head up. “Because if you had heard him say something like that, it would make me very happy.”
Geppi settled back in his chair. “How happy?”
“Very happy.” She leaned forward, providing a generous display of cleavage. “Passionately happy.”
“Are you offering me a deal?”
“No. Let me make that absolutely, unequivocably clear. I am not offering you a deal. And there’s a reason for that, Mr. Geppi. You see, if you were to remember that Zakin had confessed to you, and if you were to take the stand to testify to that effect, you would have to undergo cross-examination. And the first question the defense attorney would ask is whether you’ve made a deal with the prosecutors. Whether you’ve been offered immunity. And if you have to say yes, that’s not going to look very good to the jury. That’s going to give the defense lawyer a way to discredit you. The jury needs to think the only reason you’re testifying is because of your profound sense of civic obligation.”
Geppi snorted.
“Anyway, that’s why I’m not offering you a deal. But I can tell you this.” She leaned even further across the table. “I can tell that you will not be shipped off to Collinsgate tomorrow, because you’ll be a material witness and we’ll need to keep you close at hand. And I can also tell you that after the Zakin trial is over, after the man has been convicted, I would look very favorably toward any proposal you might make. I wouldn’t even be surprised if the charges against you were dropped and it turned out we had just made a sad mistake.”
“That ain’t good enough,” Geppi said. “I want a firm deal. I want it in writing.”
“Listen to my words, you little pissant.” She grabbed his arm and jerked him forward. “That isn’t going to happen, understand? Not now, not ever. You have two choices. Either you get shipped out to Collinsgate and spend the next ten years as Cell Block Eight’s gang-bang joy toy, or you’ll testify about what George Zakin told you. And if you do a good job of it and Zakin is convicted, then-and only then-we’ll talk about maybe doing some favors. Not before.” She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”