And The Beat Goes On

He took one look at me and headed in my direction. "Okay, arrest this bastard. He raped my wife. I want him off the street, out of my house immediately," he ordered. He was obviously the type of man who was used to ordering people around and getting his way. Tact and diplomacy were obviously not in order with him.

"Sit down and shut the fuck up," I snapped. His eyes ballooned open and his mouth snapped close. His surprise at the way I spoke to him lasted only minutes before his inflated sense of ego took over again.

"Do you know who I am?" he sputtered.

"Yeah," I sneered, getting even further in his face. "You're the asshole I'm going to book for obstruction of justice if you keep interfering with my assessment of the situation. Now I'm going to ask you to follow my directions one more time and then I'm going to have you cuffed, gagged and dragged downtown. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this and I need you to be seen and not heard until I'm ready to speak to you. So do what I told you to do sir."

He looked at me strangely; then he sat down.

I went over and spoke to the officers that were taking statements from the parties involved. Apparently, the asshole I'd just interacted with was the home owner. He'd just arrived home slightly earlier than normal and found the suspect in his house. He'd come in through the side door because apparently he'd been trying to sneak a new set of golf clubs past his wife. His plan had been to smuggle them down into the basement and put the new clubs into his old golf bag and throw the old clubs out.

Unfortunately, his wife had been in the basement already with the suspect. They'd been engaging in a sexual act and the wife had started screaming rape as soon as her husband came in. The husband had gotten into it with the suspect and gotten his ass thoroughly kicked, hence the blackening eye, the swollen lips and the ice pack. The next door neighbor was a retired cop from the one nine precinct who'd been outside on his porch. When he heard the ruckus, he'd come over and helped to subdue the suspect. They'd called the police and that was where I came in.

Another surprising detail that had recently come out was the fact that the couple's nine year old daughter was upstairs during the attack and hadn't heard a thing.

I arranged for them all to be transported downtown so we could interview them all separately and find out what had happened. This just didn't seem right to me.

I followed the squad cars to the station. We had the suspect in one car, the husband in another and the woman and her daughter in the last car. The husband had originally wanted to go in the same car with his wife but I didn't allow that. I wanted to keep them isolated to make sure they didn't have a chance to get together and corroborate their stories.

We put all three into different interview rooms and let them wait for a while. I had a cup of nearly rancid coffee and watched a little bit of the Tiger's against the Yanks. With Verlander pitching, the boys from New York didn't have much of a chance. I watched the whole sixth inning and then headed for the interviews.

I spoke to the woman first. Her name was Suzanne Smythe. She was okay looking if you go for that chunky, Midwestern, housewife type woman. She was a little bit bigger in the gut than I like. I know there are a lot of guys out there who absolutely will not look at a woman unless she has a nice rack. I'm not one of them. But I personally can't stand a woman whose gut sticks out more than her boobs no matter how big or small they are. So Mrs. Smythe would not be winning any beauty contests if I was the judge.

She also seemed to buy her clothing a couple of sizes too tight. I could actually make out the seams in her panties through her jeans. Her make-up was smeared all over her face. Her lipstick looked like she was going for that insane circus clown look.

She looked up at me and started crying again as soon as I walked in the room. I gestured and got Charlotte Ayalla, a female officer to sit in on the interview with me.

"Good Evening Mrs. Smythe," I said quietly. "I know this has been a terrible evening for you. And the technicians who came over from the clinic to process your rape kit probably didn't make you feel any better. At least they were women so I'm sure they treated you compassionately. I'm going to try to make this as easy as possible for you under the circumstances. I just need to hear your side of what happened as you remember it. I want to remind you that we are recording this interview. Not that you've done anything wrong, but people sometimes misremember things later on. That's why it's so important that we interview you while the details of the event are still fresh in your mind."

"But I don't remember anything," she whined. "I guess I'm in shock...that's it, I'm in shock." She looked at me as if she was trying to measure my reaction to her story. Something didn't feel right here.

"Well, sometimes when something happens to us that is so terrible that it may do us emotional damage, our minds block out the details or the entire event to protect us. It's called spontaneous amnesia," I said.

"That sounds like what I have," she spat.

"I just made that up Mrs. Smythe," I said. "Usually when someone doesn't remember the details of an incident immediately afterward, it's because they're trying to hide something."

"I want a lawyer," she hissed at me. "You can't ask me questions without a lawyer present. I have the right to an attorney. I've seen every episode of Law and Order, I know my rights."

"Mrs. Smythe, you don't have the right to an attorney," I said.

"Yes I do," she said. "Don't I?" I just shook my head.

"You're the victim. You haven't been charged with anything. So why would you even need one? All I asked you to do was to tell me what happened in your own words," I said.

"I'm nervous," she said. "It's the way you look at me. It makes me feel like I'm on trial."

"How about if I go and interview one of the others while you're making your mind up?" I said. "I really don't want to be here all night."

"I guess that's okay," she said.

I walked across the hall to interview the husband and was stopped by Stan who'd obviously been watching on the monitor and waiting for me.

"What are you doing Fogerty?" he asked me. "That's the victim. She didn't do anything wrong."

"That bitch is squirrely as hell," I spat. "Check her purse, I'll bet it's full of nuts. And Stan my gut tells me that her purse ain't the only thing around thing around her that's had a few extra nuts in it."

"Fogerty, please don't start any shit here," whined Stan. "This is an open and shut case. We caught the perp on the scene. We've got him for about two bazillion different charges including home invasion, assault and battery and criminal trespass in addition to the rape. The DA has already signed off on it. The bastard is being arraigned first thing in the morning. Even Judge Wedlow has agreed to proceed first thing in the morning. They're going to turn this into a media circus because they're all up for re-election next month and this will make everyone from the commissioner to the mayor, look good. Please don't fuck this up."

"Maybe you should put someone else on it then and just let me go back to my murder case," I snapped. "I didn't call you Stan. YOU called ME."

"Alright Fogerty," he hissed. "But if you fuck this up...you won't get a THIRD chance. And remember, when the judge, the DA, and the commissioner want to know who is responsible for whatever shit slinging soiree you unleash, I'll be standing right in line with them pointing my long tapering finger right at you, Fogerty. Why can't you just do this the easy way?"

"Sorry Stan," I said. "I only know how to do this the RIGHT way. I don't get to prejudge anyone or anything. I have to let the evidence decide who's guilty. Last time I tried to go with the way things looked, or pick the obvious wrongdoer, you guys hung me out to dry and I got my ass fired. So if it's my ass on the line, I'm doing this my way."

I left him there sputtering and balling up his fists while I went into the room. As soon as I walked into the room, Mr. Smythe jumped up. He was the male version of his wife. He was balding, pot-bellied and full of himself. He combed all of his hair to one side to cover up the fact that his hair was beyond thinning in the front. He had small, beady, piercing eyes and he liked to step up into people's faces and point his fingers at them.

His entire persona said,"I am important and you will listen to me." Anyone who had to be that much in someone's face obviously had hidden self-esteem issues. It was almost like he wasn't trying to convince other people that he was important as much as he was trying to convince himself.

"Did you throw that piece of shit in a cell yet?" he spat at me. Before I could answer him, he had moved even further inside of my personal space. "How much would a person have to... uhm...donate to get a few moments alone in a cell with that guy?" he asked. His volume was lowered but his tone was still obnoxious.

"I have no problem dropping you into a cell with him and letting him beat the fuck out of you...AGAIN," I said. I pointed my finger into his face the way he seemed to like to do to everyone else and he wilted. "That guy is younger than you are. He's stronger than you are and he's already beaten your ass once. He apparently did it in your own house. Why would the outcome be different this time?"

He looked at his feet. "Are you assuming that he'd be handcuffed still? Surely a big macho, alpha male like you, wouldn't derive any pleasure from beating on a man in restraints? Or is it just that you're so afraid that he'll beat your ass again that this is the only way for you to win?"

"Tell me Smythe, do you want to beat on this guy to make your wife feel better or just to soothe your own bruised ego? Are you afraid that if you don't do anything all of the other guys down at the little businessman's frat house will think you're a bitch?" He looked away from me.

"Back the fuck up Smythe," I spat. "Sit down in that fucking chair so I can ask you a few questions and decide whether or not we're going to press charges."

"Of course you're going to press charges. That animal shouldn't be allowed to walk free," he said loudly.

"I was talking about pressing charges against you," I spat. I was tempted to laugh as he started sputtering again and finally just slumped down in the chair silently.

"Alright Mr. Smythe, tell me what happened tonight," I said. "And just so you know it, we'll be recording this meeting."

"I had a rough day today," he began. "I kept butting heads with the fucking union stewards at one of my production plants. After that, I needed something to make me feel better. Just after lunch I played a round of golf with some friends and my clubs are just shitty. So I stopped off at Golf World and bought a new set of clubs. I knew my wife would bitch about it..."

"Why would your wife be upset? How old were your old clubs?" I asked.

"That's neither here nor there," he said.

"Answer the question," I said.

"Three months old," he snapped. My eyebrow went up. "What does that have to do with my wife being raped?" he asked.

"I'm just trying to establish the mood you were in," I said. "Go on. You knew the little lady wouldn't be happy that you'd bought new clubs so..."

"Oh yeah," he said. "So I decided that if she didn't know about it she'd never care. So I decided to sneak in the side door and swap out the clubs. I'd put the new ones in my bag and throw the old ones away. But when I came in the side door being as quiet as I could, I heard this sound. As I went into the room to get my golf bag I saw them."

"My wife and I made eye contact and she yelled, "Stop him, he's raping me..." he said.

I didn't say anything so he continued. "She started struggling and tried to get away from him. I went over to him and tried to grab him. I started screaming at him and Betty was screaming rape too. I took a poke at him, but I only caught him on his shoulder. He started trying to put his clothes on so he could get away. My first two punches hadn't done shit so I caught him while he was pulling his shirt over his head. He told me to back off because he was leaving. I was pissed so I took another swing at him. What would you have done?"

Again I didn't say anything. He looked to me for confirmation. I didn't want to give him anything so I did my best to keep my face neutral.

"I popped him on the chin and then he just busted me in the eye. He popped me again and caught me in the mouth. I turned my head because I tasted blood and he popped me again on the side of my jaw. By that time, my neighbor came in the side door and we wrestled him to the ground. All the time the guy kept saying he was leaving. It was all the two of us could do to hold him down until the cops got there. You know the rest," he said.

I sat back and watched him. I remained silent. He, on the other hand, was nervous and jittery. Without saying a word I got up and left the room. A gem of an idea was beginning to form in my mind. I felt a familiar rushing in my ears but this time I was on the other side. I walked down the hall to a different type of interview room. This one had a thicker door that was locked. A uni standing by the door unlocked it as I approached.

I walked in and sat down. The man who occupied the room was pacing back and forth. His hands were still handcuffed but the cuffs were in front of him. Standard procedure was for the cuffs to be behind the suspect.

He looked over at me. I look at his cuffs and he in turn looked down at them too. "Sorry," he offers. "I couldn't walk with them behind me." He sat down in the chair and kicked one leg and then the other through his looped arms. When he stood again the cuffs were behind him.

"Why did you rape Mrs. Smythe?" I asked him. I watched his face goes through a host of emotions.

"I...I..." He stuttered. "Is that what she said?" He looked at me with confusion written all over his face. "I want a lawyer.

"Why?" I asked. "You haven't been charged yet. I'm only here for a talk. I'd like to hear your side of what happened tonight."

"Nuh Unh," he said, sounding even younger than he looked. "You said that I raped Pattie."

"Well that's what she and her husband claim. So until you tell me something different it's all I have to go on. To tell you the truth, I have no opinion here. I just want to know what happened. I've heard from the other two and I just wanted to give you your shot too. But if you don't want to talk that's fine," I said. I got up and acted as if I was ready to walk out of the room.

"Wait," he said.

* * * * * *

Melinda

I have to admit I was excited. Just thinking about the fact that the end game was near and I'd have my husband back after more than three years lifted my spirits. As I pulled into the parking lot in Fogerty's cheap, loud, noisy, ancient Nissan, I wondered about the sanity of most men. Why the hell did all of their cars have to make so God damned much noise. Tommy used to go on and on about the sound of his exhaust note. To me it was just too loud. But to him it was a pleasing sound. He'd sometimes lower the windows and turn off the radio just so he could listen to the sound of that motor as we drove.

Sometimes he'd squeeze my hand and smile at me and I would just fucking melt. I couldn't believe that those days would be mine again, if luck was on my side.

I parked in the middle of the lot and looked around for my guys. I saw them after a few moments and flashed my lights. Each of the guys had found a partner. Although I didn't know the other two guys, it would be better that way because if anything bad happened, they wouldn't know who I was either. The two guys that I'd actually picked were both two time offenders so they'd do anything they had to in order not to go back to jail. If they were caught again, they'd be in jail for good.

It's a really strange situation when a guy can do his time for the things he's done and not have any kind of opportunities when he gets out. Society can lock these guys away but if they don't have a hope of finding any kind of job when they're done what choices do they have? That's part of the reason why there are so many repeat offenders. Of course, some of these guys are just wired wrong but I'm sure that there are many who would love to have the chance at a good job and a nice life.

Two cars quickly flashed their lights back at me. One was a nondescript Honda that no one would ever notice or recognize even if they were sitting in it. The other car let me know that Lucas was out of his fucking mind. It was one of those new Chargers and it was blindingly white. I was going to have to talk to Lucas about his fucking choices.

I got out of the car and walked into the hospital. Lucas and his buddy got out of their car at the same time. They walked faster than I did and went inside of the hospital. Josh came over and got inside after I did. We all took different paths so if anyone was watching us or videotaping us, they'd never associate us as being together. I walked up to the information desk and found myself in line about three people behind Lucas. I heard him ask where Radiology was. The woman behind the desk gave him directions. When it was my turn, I spoke to the woman in a really friendly way. She recognized me from all the times I'd been here during and after my divorce. "Where is Julia working today?" I asked her.

"You're not going to start any trouble are you?" she asked.

"That was a long time ago," I said. "She's married to my ex. We may as well be friends. I came to invite her and Tommy to my parent's barbecue this weekend. My parents still love Tommy and they miss him. We grew up together so just because we're not married anymore doesn't mean we can't try to be friends. If the two of us can't be together and he's happy with her, so be it."

"Aren't you married to that handsome older cop anyway?" she asked smiling. I pretended to blush.

"Well, we're not exactly married, but who knows. Maybe someday soon I will be married again," I gushed like a lovesick school girl. This woman was an obvious moron.

"Julia is working on five today," she smiled. "Just to go the elevator and take it up to the fifth floor, then ask for her at the nurse's station."

I thanked her and walked away. I smiled and nodded my head before leaving the desk. The reason I nodded my head was because I wanted to acknowledge that I'd understood her directions. I smiled because the woman was so sickeningly sweet that it made my teeth grate.

After a few moments Lucas, Josh and I were all standing in front of the same bank of elevators. As soon as the door closed, I turned and snapped at Lucas. "What the fuck was on your mind getting a big blindingly white muscle car dumb ass."

"It was the smart play," he said. "Josh got the invisi-mobile and since he's the one who'll actually be carrying the cargo he needs to be nearly invisible. My job is to cause a distraction so I needed a car that would attract a lot of attention. If Josh and I are both leaving at similar times, they'll never notice his car when I'm around."

I nodded my head. It actually made sense. We all rode up to the fifth floor. I walked over near the nurse's station and saw Julia, my worst enemy on the planet. I hated that bitch with a burning passion. If she was on fire, I wouldn't piss on her. She was the worst scum of the universe. And she was an opportunist as well. As soon as there was the slightest difficulty in my marriage, she just swooped in and stole my husband. Well, things had come full circle and now it was her turn to lose him. It was all I could do not to run over to her and snatch all of that red hair out of her skull. I had to bide my time and eventually I might pull that hair out by its roots, but not right now.