Read Online Fistful of Benjamins by Kiki Swinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kiki Swinson
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another. I stayed quiet after Sinclairâs little spiel. Listen to the questions and give them answersâthat was all they wanted me to do.
âSo to start with, without asking a bunch of bullshit, we think you know some things about what mightâve happened to Carlos and we would like to know just how much you know,â Sinclair said, leaning in closer to the table. I moved back a bit from the table, clearly uncomfortable.
âLetâs face it, Carlos was a little more than just your coworker . . . maybe even a little more than a casual friend,â Sinclair said, raising one of his eyebrows knowingly. What the fuck does he mean by that? What does he know about me and Carlos? Oh, my God! Does he know I was fucking that nasty pig? I was screaming in my head and praying that, as terrified as I was, my fear wasnât playing out across my face. Now, my heart was hammering in my chest. The evil-eyed detective, who I assumed was the one Ben had introduced as Boules, stood up and forcefully slammed a case file and a video DVD on the table in front of me. I almost fell out of the chair when I saw the video DVD. I just knew they were about to tell me I was going to jail for the rest of my life for being an accessory to Carlosâs murder. I was blinking rapidly. Maybe Carlos did have more hidden cameras in his apartment. They must have me and Eduardo on tape.
âIs there anything you want to tell us?â Sinclair asked, as Boules drummed his fingers on top of the video. I kept thinking about what Eduardo had told me. I had to play it cool, even if the detectives seemed like they knew everything. I decided to stick to that plan and see where it took me. If they knew something more, they were going to have to pry that shit out of my lips.
I shook my head left to right, signaling that I didnât have anything to share with the detectives. Boules let out a long, exasperated breath and stopped moving his fingers. There was a few minutes of mind-bending silence. It was so quiet my breath was loud in my own ears.
âYou and Carlos Ortega were good friends here at the job, no? This video from the camera shows you having long conversations with him every dayâeven the day before he was murdered,â Sinclair said, moving in closer to the table and eyeing me closely. I swallowed hard, thanking God silently that the videotape wasnât from Carlosâs building, apartment or some shit like that. These stupid-ass cops had just told on themselves. I was thinking, You dumb asses shouldâve bluffed a little longer and you mightâve scared the truth out of me.
âWe werenât friends. He was my sorter, so I had to spend time talking to him about routes and packages . . . you know, work stuff, but that was it. Everyone thinks that we were closer than we actually were. I guess that was the way Carlos made it seem to everyone. He was a really lonely man, but I guess you already know all about that. I am just a person who is always nice to everyone. I felt sorry for Carlos, because he was always talking about wanting to have a family, a wife, or even just a girlfriend to take on dates, so I was always nicer to him than everyone else here. People can be very mean. You know because he was . . . was . . . different,â I said, widening my arms so that they got my drift. Both detectives were hanging on my every word. Evil eye twisted his lips like he wasnât so convinced by my rousing speech.
âThe other day he told me he was going to meet a girl on craigslist; you know, so he could have sex or whatever these men do when they pick up strange women from a Web site like that. I was kind of shocked. I knew Carlos was lonely, but I never expected him to really be into like, prostitutionâwell, digital prostitution. I told him not to do it. I warned him that not only was it illegal, it could be dangerous meeting strange women like that, because they could rob him or worse, set him up,
âSo to start with, without asking a bunch of bullshit, we think you know some things about what mightâve happened to Carlos and we would like to know just how much you know,â Sinclair said, leaning in closer to the table. I moved back a bit from the table, clearly uncomfortable.
âLetâs face it, Carlos was a little more than just your coworker . . . maybe even a little more than a casual friend,â Sinclair said, raising one of his eyebrows knowingly. What the fuck does he mean by that? What does he know about me and Carlos? Oh, my God! Does he know I was fucking that nasty pig? I was screaming in my head and praying that, as terrified as I was, my fear wasnât playing out across my face. Now, my heart was hammering in my chest. The evil-eyed detective, who I assumed was the one Ben had introduced as Boules, stood up and forcefully slammed a case file and a video DVD on the table in front of me. I almost fell out of the chair when I saw the video DVD. I just knew they were about to tell me I was going to jail for the rest of my life for being an accessory to Carlosâs murder. I was blinking rapidly. Maybe Carlos did have more hidden cameras in his apartment. They must have me and Eduardo on tape.
âIs there anything you want to tell us?â Sinclair asked, as Boules drummed his fingers on top of the video. I kept thinking about what Eduardo had told me. I had to play it cool, even if the detectives seemed like they knew everything. I decided to stick to that plan and see where it took me. If they knew something more, they were going to have to pry that shit out of my lips.
I shook my head left to right, signaling that I didnât have anything to share with the detectives. Boules let out a long, exasperated breath and stopped moving his fingers. There was a few minutes of mind-bending silence. It was so quiet my breath was loud in my own ears.
âYou and Carlos Ortega were good friends here at the job, no? This video from the camera shows you having long conversations with him every dayâeven the day before he was murdered,â Sinclair said, moving in closer to the table and eyeing me closely. I swallowed hard, thanking God silently that the videotape wasnât from Carlosâs building, apartment or some shit like that. These stupid-ass cops had just told on themselves. I was thinking, You dumb asses shouldâve bluffed a little longer and you mightâve scared the truth out of me.
âWe werenât friends. He was my sorter, so I had to spend time talking to him about routes and packages . . . you know, work stuff, but that was it. Everyone thinks that we were closer than we actually were. I guess that was the way Carlos made it seem to everyone. He was a really lonely man, but I guess you already know all about that. I am just a person who is always nice to everyone. I felt sorry for Carlos, because he was always talking about wanting to have a family, a wife, or even just a girlfriend to take on dates, so I was always nicer to him than everyone else here. People can be very mean. You know because he was . . . was . . . different,â I said, widening my arms so that they got my drift. Both detectives were hanging on my every word. Evil eye twisted his lips like he wasnât so convinced by my rousing speech.
âThe other day he told me he was going to meet a girl on craigslist; you know, so he could have sex or whatever these men do when they pick up strange women from a Web site like that. I was kind of shocked. I knew Carlos was lonely, but I never expected him to really be into like, prostitutionâwell, digital prostitution. I told him not to do it. I warned him that not only was it illegal, it could be dangerous meeting strange women like that, because they could rob him or worse, set him up,
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