“You know anything about that?” He looked at my stone-cold expression and said, “If you cooperate with us, it’ll go better for you. Just admit it and give the money back, and maybe Mr. Friesen won’t press charges. We’re just trying to get to the truth here.”
“This is bullshit,” I said finally. “Nate didn’t call you about this. He didn’t accuse me.”
“He didn’t have to,” Thin Cop said. “There are company employees who handle that cash and know that it’s gone. But I’ll say again, if you come clean, maybe Nate Friesen will go easy on you.”
“I didn’t take the money,” I said.
“But you knew it was missing, didn’t you?” Fat Cop’s eyes were full of accusation and pity. “Of course you did. Why didn’t you report it if it wasn’t you?”
Again I said nothing. He didn’t know that I knew the money was gone—he was just fishing. An old cop trick. No way was I walking into it.
Fat Cop sighed and flipped through the little notepad he had in his hand, squinting at the handwriting as if he was trying to solve the OJ case. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself since getting out, haven’t you?” he said. “Looks like you have a job and a place to live, thanks to Nate Friesen. He’s even given you a company car to use and a company cell phone.”
I stared at him. What was he getting at? “He used to be married to my mother,” I gritted out. “I’ve known him a long time.”
“Still.” This was Thin Cop, still standing in the background. “A lot of guys, they marry a woman, they won’t give a shit about the woman’s son. And Nate has been good to you all these years, hasn’t he? Stood by you when you went to prison. Helped you when you got out.” He shook his head. “That just seems really nice to me.”
“A little too nice,” Fat Cop agreed. “It makes me wonder if he’s scared of you, Riordan. If maybe you’re threatening the old man to make him do what you want.”
I felt sick. This was what they could do—take your life and put it under their fluorescent lights, dissect it, interpret it any way they wanted and make it the truth. I knew it was because of my record and because of how I looked. Because I was bulky, and tatted, and I’d cut my hair short. Because I looked like an ex-con, a mean motherfucker. To them, the looks and the record were all there was to Bram Riordan. End of story.
I wouldn’t give them anything. Not a single guilty look, not a blink of fear, nothing. I was a mean motherfucker, and they could batter at me all day without making a dent. I just shut up and stared straight ahead.
“What do you say, Riordan?” Fat Cop said. “Did you tell the old man you’d hurt him if he didn’t give you a job and a car? Did you tell him you’d hurt his daughter if he called the cops about the missing money? No one would blame you. How else is a con supposed to get ahead, right?”
“Go fuck yourselves,” I said.
Thin Cop shook his head. “That is not convincing us, Riordan.”
They had nothing, I reminded myself. Nothing at all. They were just trying to shake me up. If they wanted to charge me with something, they’d have to have a hell of a lot more. And I’d have a right to a lawyer. Never mind that I couldn’t afford a lawyer if they decided to drop some bullshit charge on me.
There was a commotion in the hallway outside, and the door opened. Nate came into the room, hobbling on his crutches, his hair askew, his face red. “You assholes let this man go,” he said. “He hasn’t been stealing from me.”
Fat Cop stood up. “Mr. Friesen, we’re just questioning him. We’ve had a complaint.”
“Not from me, you haven’t.” Nate stared him in the eye. “It seems to me that it’s my money, so unless the complaint comes from me, all of this is none of your damn business.”
“Are you denying that money has been taken from the safe?” Thin Cop said.
Nate stood for a minute, shame and anger turning his face red.
“This is bullshit,” I said finally. “Nate didn’t call you about this. He didn’t accuse me.”
“He didn’t have to,” Thin Cop said. “There are company employees who handle that cash and know that it’s gone. But I’ll say again, if you come clean, maybe Nate Friesen will go easy on you.”
“I didn’t take the money,” I said.
“But you knew it was missing, didn’t you?” Fat Cop’s eyes were full of accusation and pity. “Of course you did. Why didn’t you report it if it wasn’t you?”
Again I said nothing. He didn’t know that I knew the money was gone—he was just fishing. An old cop trick. No way was I walking into it.
Fat Cop sighed and flipped through the little notepad he had in his hand, squinting at the handwriting as if he was trying to solve the OJ case. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself since getting out, haven’t you?” he said. “Looks like you have a job and a place to live, thanks to Nate Friesen. He’s even given you a company car to use and a company cell phone.”
I stared at him. What was he getting at? “He used to be married to my mother,” I gritted out. “I’ve known him a long time.”
“Still.” This was Thin Cop, still standing in the background. “A lot of guys, they marry a woman, they won’t give a shit about the woman’s son. And Nate has been good to you all these years, hasn’t he? Stood by you when you went to prison. Helped you when you got out.” He shook his head. “That just seems really nice to me.”
“A little too nice,” Fat Cop agreed. “It makes me wonder if he’s scared of you, Riordan. If maybe you’re threatening the old man to make him do what you want.”
I felt sick. This was what they could do—take your life and put it under their fluorescent lights, dissect it, interpret it any way they wanted and make it the truth. I knew it was because of my record and because of how I looked. Because I was bulky, and tatted, and I’d cut my hair short. Because I looked like an ex-con, a mean motherfucker. To them, the looks and the record were all there was to Bram Riordan. End of story.
I wouldn’t give them anything. Not a single guilty look, not a blink of fear, nothing. I was a mean motherfucker, and they could batter at me all day without making a dent. I just shut up and stared straight ahead.
“What do you say, Riordan?” Fat Cop said. “Did you tell the old man you’d hurt him if he didn’t give you a job and a car? Did you tell him you’d hurt his daughter if he called the cops about the missing money? No one would blame you. How else is a con supposed to get ahead, right?”
“Go fuck yourselves,” I said.
Thin Cop shook his head. “That is not convincing us, Riordan.”
They had nothing, I reminded myself. Nothing at all. They were just trying to shake me up. If they wanted to charge me with something, they’d have to have a hell of a lot more. And I’d have a right to a lawyer. Never mind that I couldn’t afford a lawyer if they decided to drop some bullshit charge on me.
There was a commotion in the hallway outside, and the door opened. Nate came into the room, hobbling on his crutches, his hair askew, his face red. “You assholes let this man go,” he said. “He hasn’t been stealing from me.”
Fat Cop stood up. “Mr. Friesen, we’re just questioning him. We’ve had a complaint.”
“Not from me, you haven’t.” Nate stared him in the eye. “It seems to me that it’s my money, so unless the complaint comes from me, all of this is none of your damn business.”
“Are you denying that money has been taken from the safe?” Thin Cop said.
Nate stood for a minute, shame and anger turning his face red.
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