The Murder Of 1998

Chapter Eleven

Sergeant Powell slammed her hand down on her desk angrily as she gave Walter a death stare. "What the hell were you thinking?" She said through her clenched teeth. "Are you asking to loose your badge? Because from the looks of it, you seem to not care enough for your job."

Walter gripped on tightly to his jeans at the knees. He could feel his heart racing.

"I'm so—"

"Shut the hell up." The Sergeant snapped. She took in a deep breath before lowering herself down onto her seat. She crossed a leg over the other and leaned back. "Do you think that this job is just a game?"

Walter sighed. "No ma—"

"I said shut up!" She shouted, rising up from her seat again with the palms of her hands pressed against her desk. Walter jumped at her outburst, clutching on tightly to the armrests of the seat he was sitting in. "That man is right. You do act like a child." She sighed and sat back down. "How are you not embarrassed with yourself?"

Walter—too afraid to have his boss yell at him again—decided not to even say a single word.

Wanda raised a brow at him cocking her head forward. "Oh so now you got nothing to say?"

The detective threw his hands up in the air, confusion crossing his face. "What the hell?!"

Wanda brushed a piece of her brown curly hair away from her face. "Oh just shut up."

Walters face became both angry and shocked. He stood up from his seat, making his way over to the door. "I refuse to take this abuse!" He shouted at her.

"Sit down," Wanda demanded. And just like a robot, the detective sat right back down. Wanda looked out the window behind her, crossing her arms. "You remind me of my ex-husband. Dumb." Walter rolled his eyes. "So tell me, what happened?"

Walter squinted his eyes at his boss, suspecting that she would only tell him to shut up. Wanda groaned and made a gesture with her hand for him to just tell the damn story.

Walter tapped his fingers against his chin as he kept waiting for someone to answer the door. With his other hand, he pulled out his notepad and stared at the name. William Diaz, a client of Joe and the last person to see him from his log.

The door opened and Walter shifted his attention to a tall man with a clean shaven face and an evenly tan complexion.

"Yes?" The man said. Walter placed his hand on his belt, pulling it up a little to put emphasis on his badge that was sitting right next to the gun on his right hip. The man's eyes dropped down the the badge then the gun, taking a big gulp.

"I'm Detective Ottoson. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"

The man looked back inside the house. "Um. O-okay." He whispered as he pulled the door further more to let the detective inside.

Upon walking in, Walter detected the smell of marijuana. It wasn't at all pleasant, and it just irritated Walter and his nose. He turned to look at William, furrowing his eyebrows. William seemed nervous. Almost like he was hiding something.

Walter sat on the couch in the living room as William did as well on the opposite side. The house felt empty. Every time there was a sound, it was like an echo in a canyon. There wasn't very much furniture in the house to absorb the sounds as well.

Looking at his notes in his notepad, he made sure to get the most important question out the way.

"Where were you last night between the hours of eleven and three in the morning?"

"I was here the whole time. I swear."

For some odd reason Walter didn't really believe the man. He stared at him intensely, which made William feel more uncomfortable than he already was. His forehead began to drip in sweat as he knew that the detective knew something.

"William..." Walter pressed on. He furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed William trying to hide his shaking hands. He kept looking at Walters badge on his hip. It made him nervous. Walter didn't want to make assumptions based on the mans race and name, but he just knew that he was part of that group of people. "You're... undocumented, aren't you?"

The look of terror was visible in the mans eyes. He wanted to play dumb but he knew that this detective wasn't dumb. He sighed and nodded.

"Please, I cannot go back to Venezuela."

"And why's that?"

"If Hugo Chávez wins the election, then my country will fall into a crisis. I'm scared."

Walter had some idea what the man was talking about. He heard a little bit about a man named Hugo Cháves, but overall didn't know much about him. But he knew it must have been serious enough if William had to leave his own country.

"Por favor," He whimpered.

Walter sighed as he thought about the situation. Was it worth putting his job at potential risk just to help an undocumented man's life?

Hell yea.

"Listen, if you help me, I can help you."

"How?"

Walter raised a brow. "Don't worry about it. Just trust me."

"Hopefully everything is ok in there." Seth quietly said as he stared at the Sergeants office door. Walter was in there for nearly an hour, and it worried Seth. Sarah, who still hadn't left the station, was sitting in Walter's seat, spinning around in it while Ginger the dog ran around it.

Finally the Sergeants door opened and Walter walked out with a smile on his face. It looked genuine.

Seth stood up from his seat abruptly as his partner walked over to him.

"What happened?"

"Buddy, I just helped our case." Seth's eyes lit up. Although he was confused, he was happy to hear Walter just saying those words. "Look like I'll be calling my sister, telling her I'm coming home late."