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In the FBI's holding room, down at the federal building on Wilshire Blvd., a clean simple room with a large glass fish-tank window, Smith noticed that no door handle was installed on the inside.
Agents Worczek and Hong took up seats on the opposite side of the interview table.
"Fellas," said Al, "I don't know why I'm here. Really. You got the wrong guy."
Special Agent Worczek said, "When's the last time you saw Mr. Rodriguez?"
"Who?"
Agent Hong clarified. "Umberto Rodriguez, your forger. The guy who gave you your id papers."
Al tensed involuntarily. "No, no, no. I never met the guy."
Agent Hong said, "So you admit you have fake id papers?"
Al froze. "What's the meaning of this? I want a lawyer."
Worczek chuckled."Can you afford one nowadays?"
Al took a moment to consider his defense, and he spoke carefully. "Look, I never met the guy. I sure as hell never killed him. It's up to you to prove otherwise."
Agent Hong snapped open a file, and he flipped through some enlarged photographs and documents. "Ring a bell?"
The 8x10" photo showed the murder scene, a young Mexican man, his body brutally mangled, a lot of destruction scattered about a cheap apartment.
"No," said Al,confident. Nothing to do with me." Al sat smugly, determined not to nibble any of their bait.
Agent Worczek said,"Show him the fingernails."
Hong picked out a photo print. "See this? That's your hair under his fingernail. We ran DNA tests."
Worczek said,"There's more. You left DNA on the cup you drank from. Very sloppy. Several fingerprints too. It all matches."
"No, no, no,"said Al. "This is a frame-up. I've been set up."
Special Agent Worczek played along. "Yeah? By whom?"
"Lou Seaford!"
The two agents looked at each other amused.
Agent Hong said,"Why would Seaford need to do something like this when he just took you for a billion dollars? Ha ha ha."
Worczek said, "Yeah but not him, if he's not him. How does that work?"
Hong thought about it, and he shrugged. "I don't know."
Al howled, his face stretched with rage. "Seaford hates me! He's the fucking devil! He hates everyone! He's Satan!"
The two agents displayed a hint of pity as they scheduled the battery of psychiatric tests. They delivered Smith down to his solitary cell, a little less roughly than before. It was open and shut, and a good day's work.
* * * * *
Jim Hanford, Al's longtime family attorney, came by the holding cell the very next day.
Smith rested back in his cot. He was ecstatic upon seeing Hanford. "Jim! I knew you wouldn't let me down!" Al jumped up toward the bars of the cell.
Hanford said, "You let yourself down when you misrepresented yourself. You fooled everybody. Everybody."
"No." Al grabbed his cheeks, distraught. "It's more complicated. You gotta hear me out."
Hanford's voice cracked, and he masked his disappointment. "People don't appreciate being fooled, whoever you are. People don't appreciate being lied to in their face."
"But I had to lie,Jim. You wouldn't have believed the truth."
Jim maintained a safe distance in the center of the walkway. Hanford said dryly, "I'm just notifying you that I won't be having anything further to do with you, and I will certainly not be representing you in any capacity." Jim turned and started off down the hall in the direction he had come.
Al pressed his chest up against his bars. "Jim! Don't you want to know the real truth?At least you're curious, right?"
Hanford scuffed his soles on the concrete floor, halfway to the exit gate.
"You have real information about the whereabouts of Al Smith?"
Al threw his hands up in exasperation. "Oh yeah."
Jim turned back, and he faced Al from the same spot. "Very well. I'm listening."
Al peered back frustrated and torn apart. "I'm Al Smith, Senior. Right here. Me.There was never a Junior."
Hanford couldn't prevent his frown. "That's your new truth?"
Al spoke with urgency. "Lou Seaford is Lucifer, The Devil, Satan. He's not even human! Also relevant."
Jim nodded with sublime acceptance. "That's your story? Are you going to stick to it?"
Al's nostrils flared as he had brought himself to the brink of hyperventilation."That's the God's honest truth, Jim!"
Hanford slid away,unconcerned. "Insanity plea. Good luck." Hanford strolled to the barred door, and he tapped for the guard's attention.
YOU ARE READING
HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire
ParanormalFULL NOVEL 2nd Edition Copyright 2009, 2015 Joe Giambrone All Rights Reserved Sex, violence, war, torture: Hollywood's grand deal with the devil DISCLAIMER: Names have been changed to protect the innocent writer from a swarm of Hollywood corpor...