Crimson

The One Who Asked Too Many Questions

Andres was the one who asked too many questions. Granted, he was a detective, and was probably only doing his job. I met him at work on a typical morning at Gottorp & Shield. Everyone was slaving away to come up with a tight alibi for our latest client, the notorious Bakri Osman Saeed whose crimes include orchestrating a Sudanese massacre. I dug up some related case files from our vault to review and went back to my corner office only to find a Hispanic-looking gentleman waiting for me.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Detective Andres Alameda" he said as he showed me his badge. "I have a few questions for you. Do you mind?" Apparently, his investigations led to Gottorp & Shield, where the esteemed lawyer Maksim Gottorp was managing partner. Maksim had been missing for about six months now, and people are finally noticing.

"From what I've heard from your colleagues, I understand you have relations with Mr. Gottorp?"

"I'm not Mr. Gottorp's type," I replied, "I'm far too old for him."

Detective Alameda cocked his eyebrow, "I meant Maksim Gottorp, Miss Wyndham."

"Ohhhh, Maksim, yes. I suppose you could say we briefly saw each other. Nothing too serious, just a few dates. And nights, if you know what I mean" I replied playfully.

My reply didn't seem to faze him. Tough sell, I thought. He cleared his throat. "He was last seen at The Ritz-Carlton. With you."

"Yes, but he left before sunrise. He had to catch a flight to Moscow” I informed him.

"Well, it looks like he didn't make that flight" he said as he gestured to the airline passenger manifest on his tablet. "How long were you at the hotel for? Where were you the day he missed his flight? How come you haven’t reported him missing?”

“I’m not his girlfriend or his keeper. Should I keep track of his every move?” I said indignantly. "I don't know what you're trying to get out of me, Detective, nor do I like what you're insinuating. If you don't have any other substantial questions, I think we're done here."

"If you hear from Mr. Gottorp, or remember anything else that could help us in our investigation, please call me" he said as he handed me his card.

As soon as he left, I faced the window and stared at the ominous dusty skyline. Obedear was a bustling, cosmopolitan city. Of all the cities in the Greater Massachusetts Area, Detective Alameda just had to nose his way into this one. Fuck.

I needed to unwind after work, so I made a pit stop at the newly opened Boxx Lounge on my way home. Nestled at the west end of Lilith Avenue, the place was overrun with socialites and creepy, old moneymakers. As I handed my keys over to the valet, I noticed Detective Alameda getting out of an unmarked Lincoln behind me.

“Detective Alameda, fancy meeting you here. Were you following me by any chance?” I asked as I made my way towards him.

“Following you? I would never. And you can call me Andres” he said as he motioned for the velvet-lined lounge doors.

Trying to get cozy with me, I thought. Two can play this game. Once inside, we made our way to the bar. I took the stool next to Andres and asked, “What’s your poison? You look like you could use a drink or two.”

“Rye, on the rocks,” he told the bartender. “And you?”

“Double gin and tonic, thanks.” Not feeling like spending my entire night with law enforcement, I decided to dive straight into business. “So, did you actually follow me here, or are you hoping to snatch yourself a Sugar Momma tonight?” I laughed as I gestured towards the flock of cougars getting their dance on, a couple of feet away.

He swirled the ice cubes in his drink and tried to stifle the smile forming on his chiseled face. “You know, my father warned me about women like you” he started, “the type that doesn’t lie, but doesn’t quite offer the whole truth either.”

“What other truths do you think I’m keeping?” I innocently replied, as I motioned the bartender over to get us another round of drinks. “Four shots of tequila, please” I mouthed.

“Your smile tells me you’ve got lots to hide. There’s more to you than meets the eye, and that’s why I’m here” Andres said.

“Do you always mix business and pleasure?” I asked, annoyed. “Stop using your tactics on me and drink up!”

About to take our shots, I stumbled sideways, spilling tequila on his dress shirt. I chuckled nervously. “Look at me, tipsy already. Here, let me wipe that down for you.”

“No worries, I’ll just dry it off in the men’s room.”

I reached inside my crossbody bag for a vial of ketamine, which I splashed onto his tequila shots. Right on cue, Andres came back, shirt still moist. “I’m so clumsy,” I apologized, “have another drink on me?”

“It’s pretty late and I should head out. The Feds are coming in early to ask about your missing high-profile boyfriend. Can’t let these tequila shots go to waste, though” he said before downing both shots.

“Maksim and I aren’t like that. I’ve already told you, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, boyfriend or not, the Feds are involved now. Whatever it is you’re not telling m--” his speech had started to slur, and I knew it was time to take him out.

“Are you alright, Andres? You look like you’re about to pass out.” I gently shook his shoulders. “I...” he managed before slumping into my arms. A bouncer by the door asked if we were alright, so I just winked and said “Guess tonight’s not his lucky night.”

I drove to Gasso, an abandoned industrial park that has turned into a playground for meth addicts and whores. When we got there, you could smell the remains of rusty metal scraps and see several scattered bonfires surrounding the barbed wire perimeter.

When we got inside the shipyard, I tied Andres’ legs together and hung him upside down from the mustard-colored crane nearby. He dangled like a crystal piece of a broken chandelier. He woke up from his daze and started flailing his arms, screaming his lungs out.

“You know, the more you move, the faster the blood’s going to drain out of you, right?” I started. “Just calm down and wait for time to pass by.”

“The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you killed Maksim Gottorp,” he heaved. “Goddamnit, cut me loose right now! We can talk about this, like civilized people.”

“Shouting won’t help your case, Detective.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know. There are people that can help. Whatever the Gottorps put you through...” he trailed off. I maneuvered the crane until he was caught between the claw and the worn out cement. The pressure was building up, and Andres struggled to get out from underneath the heavy machinery currently overpowering him.

“The Gottorps didn’t do jack shit to me. They were more than accommodating, if anything. But I’m not about to tell you my life story, so shut the hell up!” I yelled as I lifted the claw up and slammed it back down again. Andres’ screams faded into the background, and all that remained was his mangled body curled up like a filthy rag doll.

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, too many questions did.