Stan’s confidence drains the minute he walks in the lobby of the large building where Silva and Son’s occupies the 10th floor.
Cops.
Everywhere.
What is going on? He wonders as he takes the elevator up. As the door opens, he faces a uniformed officer who asks for ID.
“What’s happened?”, Stan asks, fishing his wallet out and handing it to the officer.
“There’s been an incident, Mr… Greene?” The officer looks up at him, and Stan nods. “You are an employee for Silva and Son’s?”, again, Stan nods, his hammering heart choking him. “Please sit down, Mr. Greene”, the officer indicates impromptu chairs in the hallway.
Stan is barely seated when a higher-ranking officer greets him with a sheaf of notes in her hand. “Mr. Greene?”, again Stan nodded, “Ah…” The officer sits in a chair next to him. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she says, “Mr. Silva is dead. He was found here in the office, and his cause of death is under investigation.”
Stan swallows rising bile. The nightmare of last night rising behind his eyes, and his fingers twitch as he remembers squeezing Silva’s heart.
The officer mistakes Stan’s nausea for grief. “I know this must be difficult, but I’m afraid there is more… Mr. Daily was also found deceased with him.” Stan jumped. “I’m sorry to shock you, but this double death is under investigation. Detective Schwartz will need to speak to you. Can you please follow me?”
Stan nods, clears his throat, and asks, “May I ask where the … bodies… were found?”
“All further information will be given by Detective Schwartz, Mr. Greene, in order to not compromise the investigation.”
Stan nods, “Of course, I understand.”, he follows her to the elevator.
Riding up in the elevator, Stan stares at his hands. How could that be true? Both Ted and Edward? HOW? he wonders. His hands shake, and he clasps them together.
A weird calm settles over Stan. I’m going into shock, he thinks, but it feels more powerful than that. Jewel green eyes look back at him from the elevator’s polished panels, and as the doors slide open, he hears a chuckle. Glancing at the officer accompanying him, it’s obvious she hasn’t heard it. The same voice whispers in his ear, “This could be fun!” and he smiles to himself as they step into the hallway.
Ahead of Stan, a woman with short dark hair steps into the hall from a side door, spies the officer accompanying him, and walks toward them. As she hands her coffee cup to the officer, she introduces herself as Detective Ally Schwartz.
Ah, detective, Stan thinks, explains the office attire. Ally looks at Stan, holding eye contact. He hears “Careful! She’s a sharp one – this will definitely be fun”. The voice is a comfort, and he lets it be in charge.
Stan feels his cheeks crinkle slightly, then he smooths his face as he follows her to the temporary interview room.
Sitting across from each other at the faux-wood grain table, Ally begins. “Mr. Greene -”
“Stan, please.”
“Ok, thank you – and please, call me Ally.” Seeing him nod, she continues, “Stan, my notes tell me you’ve worked for Silva and Son’s for… nineteen years?” Ally looks up.
Stan nods.
“She’s watching body language. Keep it true!”, he hears.
“That’s a long time,” Ally continues, “you must enjoy your work.”
“Silva and Son’s has given me excellent opportunities, and security. I’ve done well for myself here. Some of my clients have been with me from the start, they’re like family,”, Stan says.
“Yes, of course, they must be. And yet yesterday, witnesses have told me you were let go, escorted under guard?” Ally pauses, waiting for Stan to elaborate. He merely nods, and looks down, his face taking on an embarrassed look.
His eyes, she thinks, they don’t go with the chagrined face, he’s enjoying this!
“Do you care to elaborate?” Ally prods.
Stan nods, sobering. “The firm has been struggling, and layoffs have been coming for months. It was no surprise they wanted to cut my hours, just -,” here, Stan looks up with genuine regret, “I lost my temper. I’m not proud of that, detective. I told Mr. Silva -” Damn it, no giggling! Stan thinks as he takes a moment to compose himself.
Ally is watching him as he ducks his head and rubs his face. She sees his shoulders shake for just a moment and thinks, another ugly cry? Jeez this place.
He looks up, eyes damp. “I told him to – well you have to understand, detective, they wanted to cut my hours, my pay, and give me more work… I told him to… shove it.” The last two words are whispered.
“Shove it?”, Ally repeats loudly and watches him wince. “Ah, I see…. and yet, you came in today?” Stan nods. “May I ask why?”
Stan shrugs. “Well, you know, I had time to… cool off. I didn’t want to throw out my entire career, and I hoped that an apology might get me another chance. After all, I’m not without value, my client base should provide some leverage, Silva and Son’s would have to work to keep them….” Stan trails off.
“I see. Sure you weren’t planning to just take those clients with you, maybe start on your own?” Ally prods.
“A reasonable question, detective, but I’m not Ted Daily,” Stan pauses, “Look, I know he’s dead too, and while I wouldn’t wish that on him, I think he is – was – a thieving bastard.”
“Not an uncommon opinion,” Ally empathizes.
Stan takes a deep breath. “So, I came in today to apologize to Mr. Silva, and try to get my job back. It’s my identity, I don’t know who I am without this job, Detective Schwartz.”
Ally looks at him with sympathy, “Ally, remember? I understand, Stan. I just have to cover all the bases. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Oh nice! She’s putting on kit gloves,” Stan hears. “She’s either a sucker or even better than we thought! Don’t let her fool you! This is hilarious.”
“So Stan,” Ally continues, “You lose your temper, get fired, pack up your things, and get escorted out of the property,” Stan nods, “Any chance you forgot anything at your desk?”
Ice slid down Stan’s spine, Where is this going? He wonders. “Not that I know of det- Ally. I kept my desk pretty minimal, easier to focus on my work that way. I took my pencils that I had bought myself – left the highlighters and stapler that belonged to Silva and Son’s; I’m not a thief!”, his eyes flash, “Ted was always stealing office supplies, Christ! For all I know he’s the reason the numbers were so short – you’d think he’d found a black market for them or something…”, he thinks about the box of his belongings still sitting on his bedroom floor. “Oh, and my ten-year plaque, I earned that.”
Ally nods. “And your twenty-year plaque?”
“There is no twenty-year plaque,” Stan replies, “you get a silver-plated lapel pin instead.”
“Like that one?” Ally nods at Stan’s pin. There we go, she thinks at his slight jump.
“Oh, ah, well…” Stan looks embarrassed, “Edward – I mean – Mr. Silva gave me my pin a few weeks ago, I just didn’t wear it until today. Never got a chance to – but I thought it would remind him of my service when I went to speak to…”, Stan tears up.
“I see. So you didn’t leave these at your desk?” Ally plops an evidence bag on the desk with the green marbles in it. Wide-eyed, Stan stares at them, then at her. Weird, she thinks, they match his eyes – almost exactly.
“Uh… no! Where did those come from?” Wide-eyed with shock, Stan feels his hands start to shake again.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Stan,” Ally slides her card across to him. “Please hang onto this, and if you do remember seeing them somewhere, or any other information, I’d appreciate a call.”
Relief coursing through him, Stan nods, “Sure, of course, Detective,” he says.
“Ally please, Stan,” Ally smiles warmly. As Stan rises, she says, “Oh sorry, one more quick thing: just to cover the bases,” she nods reassuringly, “Can you tell me where you were last night between the hours of midnight, and three am?”
“Of course I can,” Stan begins. “I was at The Spot, drowning my sorrows until about 12:30 am, then I …”, he frowns, for some reason, not wanting to divulge the purchase of a silly statue, “took a cab, as requested by Kris, the barm- tender. On the way home, I decided I needed fresh air, so I walked from 5th on Holly. I admit I had overdone it a bit – my walk was a bit slow, I remember seeing the clock when I got home about 1:15, and passed out shortly thereafter.”
“Great,” says Ally, casually ticking things in her sheaf of notes, “and I suppose it’s not a problem to have someone corroborate this timeline for you?”, she looks at him.
“Detective,” says Stan stiffly, “Do I need an attorney?”
“Oh well, I’m not going to recommend against legal counsel ever, Stan, but this is just routine – you know, covering the bases,” Ally said.
“Ah, well, of course, you can talk to Kris at The Spot, and,” he pulls out his wallet, “Sun taxi, cab number 365-J”, he shows her the receipt.
Ally makes another note. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Greene.”
To Be Continued…