Tilt-a-Whirl

CHAPTER SEVEN

I slip into the dark room next to the Interrogation Room. It's dark because otherwise, everybody in the IR would be able to see me through the one-way mirror.

This is one of the few times our IR has actually been used for questioning. Usually, it's where stuff like Christmas decorations gets stored or where we cut somebody's birthday cake. In fact, I can see a wrinkled red balloon lying on the floor near Ashley Hart's new shoes.

She's also wearing a new dress with Hawaiian flowers and hula dancers on it. I figure somebody picked it up on Ocean Avenue so Ashley wouldn't have to sit around all day in a blood-soaked sundress. Her hair is damp. She probably took a shower in the women's locker room. She looks like a young girl who just finished swimming in a motel pool and went back to her room to get dressed for dinner. Her cheeks are clean and ruddy; her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. It's only her eyes that look terrified, like she found some horrible monster stuck to the floor drain in the deep end of that swimming pool.

Ceepak is sitting at the head of the long table. Ashley is to his left. Next to her is Jane Bright, the closest thing to a child welfare officer we have on the Sea Haven Police Force-Jane has her masters degree in Social Work. Across from them both is the state police sketch artist.

“I like your new dress,” Ceepak says, trying to break the ice.

“Thank you,” Ashley says. “Mrs. Bright picked it out for me.”

“She did good.”

“Yeah.”

“We keep the old dress?” Ceepak kind of whispers it to Jane.

“No. But we photographed it.”

“Good.”

“It's in the trash if-”

“No. That's okay.”

Ceepak smiles at Ashley, like he's apologizing for talking shop with another cop.

“I'm sorry I can't remember more,” Ashley says.

“Maybe we could make it like a game?”

“A game?”

“You ever play Twenty Questions?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Was it a man or a woman?”

“Man.”

“Skinny or fat?”

“Skinny.”

The artist starts moving her pencil, swooping it around the sketch paper.

“Okay. That's good. Was he black or white?”

“White.”

“Hispanic?”

“You mean like a Puerto Rican?”

“Or a Mexican.”

“No. He was white-white.”

“Handsome or ugly?”

Ashley actually giggles.

“Ugly. He had this, you know … dragon on his neck.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yeah. Like Ozzy Osborne?”

“And it was a dragon?”

“I think so. There were flames coming out the mouth. It stuck out from under his T-shirt.”

“He was wearing a T-shirt?”

“Yes, sir. With colors all over it.”

“Was it orange?”

“No.”

“Pink? Purple?”

“No. It was all kinds of colors. Like rainbow sherbet?”

“Tie-dye?”

“Yes! It was a tie-dyed shirt!”

“What about his pants?”

“Dirty blue jeans. With holes in the knees. I could smell him.”

“How'd he smell?”

“Like pee-pee.”

“Urine?”

“Yes, sir. Urine.”

I peek at the sketch. The guy is starting to look like a bum.

“What kind of shoes? Did you see his shoes?”

“Yes. He had on boots. Hiking boots.”

“Unh-hunh.”

Nobody in the room with Ceepak knows why this is so incredibly huge. I do. The Timberland prints.

“Were they tan hiking boots?”

“Yeah. Kind of light brownish.”

The chief slips into the Interrogation Room.

“Don't mind me, Miss Hart,” he says. “You and Ceepak keep going.”

“Is that your name?” she says. “Ceepak?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's my last name but it's what everybody calls me.”

“You can call me Ashley.”

“I know. We found your bracelet.”

“Is it broken?”

“No. It's fine.”

“Will I get it back?”

“Sure you will, honey,” Jane says, patting Ashley's hand.

“My boyfriend gave it to me.”

Ceepak smiles.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Kind of. Yeah. I mean, sort of. He gave me the bracelet.”

Ah, the ID bracelet. The gift choice of cheap boyfriends for decades. Right up there with the J.C. Penney's heart locket. Major bling-bling when you're twelve, thirteen. I can remember handing out a few such baubles in my day.

“Nice gift,” Ceepak says. “What’s your boyfriend's name?”

“Ben. Ben Sinclair? His father is the mayor.”

So now the mayor's son is dragged into this deal. I see the chief's big jaw popping in and out around his ears, like he's grinding his teeth, sanding them down nice and smooth, wondering how much more bad news he's going to get this morning.

“We were supposed to hook up tonight … Ben and I….”

“A date?”

“No. Dad won't … I mean … he wouldn't let me date, even though I'm almost thirteen. So Ben and me just sort of hang out with everybody else….”

“Let's get back to the sketch,” the chief says, not interested in the whole Tiger Beat Teen Romance report.

“Yes, sir,” Ashley says.

Ceepak sort of sighs in a way that says, “I wish you hadn't cut her off, chief.”

“Remember this morning when you told me about a crazy man with a gun?” Ceepak gently asks the girl.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why'd you say he was crazy?”

“I dunno. The way he looked, I guess.”

“How'd he look?”

“Freaky. Big eyes. Like a bug or something. Like they were going to pop out of his head.”

“Did he have a beard?” The chief lobs in another lead balloon.

“Yes, sir.”

“What kind?”

“I forget.”

Ceepak tries to help.

“Was it a big, bushy beard-like Santa Claus?”

“No.” Ashley closes her eyes, trying to remember.

“A goatee?” the chief asks.

“Yes, sir. Like a goat! It was white.”

“Was his hair white, too?” Ceepak asks.

“Black and white. Like he was older? You know?”

“Sure,” Ceepak says. “Was it short? Like mine?” He playfully scratches the stubble around his ears.

“No. It was way long. And greasy. He looked like a hippie.”

“A hippie?” Ceepak leans back in mock surprise. “What's a hippie?”

“I dressed up like one for Halloween this one time. You know- long hair with a bandanna, beads, flower-power sunglasses.”

“Did the crazy man have on flower-power sunglasses?”

“No.”

“What about beads?” The chief seems to want to turn this into a tag-team interview.

“No … I don't think so … maybe….”

Ashley's getting confused.

“Maybe. He could've had beads….” She now looks about to cry. “I can't remember.”

“That's okay,” Ceepak says.

Jane pats the girl's hand again.

“I want to see my mom….”

“Of course,” Jane says and turns to Ceepak. “We reached her on her cell. She's on the way.”

“She was in the city,” the chief adds and looks at his watch. “Should be here soon.”

“Hey,” Ceepak says to Ashley, “are you hungry?”

“Kind of.”

“Maybe we should take a little break. We've got some Pop-Tarts and stuff in the kitchen here.”

“Okay.” Sounds like Pop-Tarts don't really cut it, though.

“Or,” Ceepak tries again, “we could send a car over to The Pancake Palace. Pick up their chocolate-chip special. With marshmallow sauce if you want. Does that work?”

She nods.

“You want to wait in here while we send someone out? Maybe help Shelly work on the picture some more?”

“Sure.”

Ceepak stands up from the table. “One order of chocolate chip pancakes, coming right up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ceepak.”

“You're welcome, Ashley.”

Ceepak and the chief head out the door. I meet them in the hall.

“Sorry about barging in like that,” the chief says to Ceepak.

“We survived.”

“Yeah. I'll find someone to run out to the restaurant.” The chief looks at me.

“I could do it,” I volunteer.

“You need Danny in the back room?”

“He's my partner. Second set of ears.”

“10-4. Stick with Ceepak, kid. And John? I want you to, you know, basically head this thing up.”

“I'm sure the State boys-”

“I don't give a damn about the state police. I want you on point. We need to wrap this thing up quick or Mayor Sinclair's going to have another heart attack.”

Ceepak nods. I guess you're not breaking any rules if your boss writes new ones.

“After she eats something,” he says, “I want her to walk us through what she saw. Then, we need to talk to her mother. Find out if Mr. Hart had enemies.”

“It'll be a long list,” the chief says

“We'll try to narrow the field.”

“Check.”

“We should work out a security detail with State,” Ceepak suggests. “24-hour coverage….”

“Done and done.”

It's like they're back in the Army, protecting another innocent kid, hunting down another bad guy.

Only this time, it isn't a chaplain.

It's a crazy guy with googly eyes, a goatee, and a gun.