Page 48 of Demo
“Anyway, that doesn’t matter,” I continue, awkward as usual. “There was a discrepancy between what the police report stated and what Jerome’s family is saying. About drugs being found on him. Since you were one of the first responders, I was just wondering if you saw anything. If you found anything in his pockets, or even if something had fallen out and was laying on the ground?”
Sanders lets out a half-laugh, half-huff. “Look … I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t,” I say, even more awkward than before. I shove my hand out toward him. “Lyzbeth Mitchell.”
“Lyzbeth,” he says. Giving me a firm handshake and a nod. “Look, Lyzbeth, we don’t go checking victims’ clothing or bodies. If we have to cut off clothing to access a wound or administer meds, we do that. But even then, we don’t go through anyone’s pockets. If I recall correctly, Jerome had a chest wound, so we probably removed his shirt. We likely left it right on the lawn, and it became evidence. If he had anything in his pants pocket, the hospital would have dealt with it.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “If there was anything on the ground, we wouldn’t have even noticed. We’re pretty focused on one task when we arrive at a scene. And if we did see anything, we would have left it there, seeing as it could be evidence, and we wouldn’t want to tamper with the scene of a crime.”
“Right. Gotcha,” I say, suddenly feeling embarrassed for alluding to the fact that he may have tampered with evidence.
Sanders shuffles his feet. “Well, if there isn’t anything else I can do for you, I need to help stock this vehicle for calls,” he dismisses.
“No. Thank you, though.” I move toward the garage door but turn back at the last minute. I reach into my bag for my business card. “If you remember anything, please call?” I hand one over to him.
“Sure thing.” He takes the card with a nod.
***
Strangely, going back to work after a week off feels weird. I feel like I’ve been away for too long. Like I’ve missed out on too much.
However, the stack of notes and police reports and papers on my desk, and the 137 unread emails, tells me by the time I’m done going through all this shit, I won’t have missed a beat.
I stare down at my mess of a desk before taking off my blazer and plopping down. As I’m trying to organize the chaos, bright colors catch my eye as Monty comes flitting over from his desk, wearing a yellow checkered button-up which, tucked into a pair of gray slacks, makes his belly look bigger than it is.
“You look like a giant Mallow Cup,” I say without looking up at him.
He ignores me. “I need you to come with me to a presser outside the women’s resource center at noon today. They got some grant funding.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I respond, half of my attention still on my desk and the papers I’m shuffling around.
There is silence so I look up.
“You hear me? Or was that just a robot response?”
“Noon. Presser. Grant funding. Got it,” I say, before looking up at him.
Monty gives me a half-smile. His hair is a little wily today. “How you doing, kid?”
I drop some papers on the desk with oomph and lean back in my chair. “Honestly?”
“Are you ever anything but with me?”
“Never,” I sigh. “Honestly, I’m a little … off, I guess.”
Monty nods. “Chin up, sunshine. We missed you around here.” He heads back to his desk, but not before giving me wide eyes and gesturing over my head.
As I swivel around in my chair I see Cherise has come out from her office and is approaching me. “Lyzbeth, just the lady I wanted to see,” she says as she stops in front of my desk, hands on her hips, her black slacks and deep red blouse looking extra shiny today.
“I aim to please,” I respond. I should stand, but I’m feeling a little bit of “fuck you” today so I remain slouched back in my chair.
“Chief Scott left me a message asking that you stop by the department one of these days.”
I wonder why he wouldn’t just call my cell. “He knows where to find me,” I say, to which Cherise gives me a head tilt, and I realize I’m being a bit sassy. “Sorry. I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t reach out to me directly.”
“I think he actually wanted me to know he was trying to get a hold of you. I got the feeling this is a little bit of theater.”
Huh. “Alright, I’ll call him in a few.”
