Colleagues

Chapter 11 | Sadie

It's hard to imagine being genuinely excited to go to work. But on Tuesday morning, I couldn't help but smile while I rode the bus to the law firm.

Much to my surprise, Margot met me at the entrance. "Ready to take a field trip?" she asked as she dangled her car keys in front of me.

~~~

I gazed out the window of Margot's car as she drove to the police precinct. It didn't surprise me that she had a car, but I did feel slightly self-conscious of the fact I still relied on public transportation. I'd never actually been to a police station before, and I could feel myself tensing up in apprehension.

"Everything good, Brooks?" Margot inquired, glancing at me as she turned into a parking garage next to the Chicago Police Department. "You look like the main character from one of those indie films."

"Yeah, all is good," I replied quickly, sitting up straight in embarrassment. 

"Great," Margot said. "Because we are here."

The police department was a tall, red brick building with a lot of windows. It was reminiscent of my old public library.  

"They should be expecting us," Margot explained as we climbed the steps. "I reserved an hourly appointment with the officer who led the investigation of Earl Wilson's death. Try not to be too intimidated," she teased as she held the door open for me.

Unlike the battered exterior, the actual building had a fairly modern appearance. Police officers and other professionals were moving about, and it was bustling with excitement and conversation. An older officer with graying hair and a short beard greeted us a few feet from the entrance.

We both shook is hand. "Hey, I'm Officer Polsky, the head of the Wilson case. Nice to meet the two of ya."

"The pleasure is mine," Margot replied cordially.

"Honestly, I'm impressed with y'all for taking on this case. It's one of the more gruesome ones."

He led us to a darker room in the back of the station. I was surprised to find a lack of similarity between the layout in front of me and the depictions from movies and tv shows. There was no whiteboard with pictures of faces and string connecting them together, but rather a folder placed on a plastic table in front of us that was surrounded by three chairs.

"If any of ya tend to get an upset stomach, this isn't for you," Officer Polsky warned as Margot made her way over to the table and took the folder.

He sat down, Margot and I soon following suit. I took out a notepad to write important things down, knowing that Margot would be leading the interview.

"What were your first impressions of the murder, sir?" she asked authoritatively. I admit, I was mildly moved by how quickly Margot could turn on her professional demeanor.   

"My first thought when we got the call was that fucker had it comin' for him."

"Would you elaborate on that, please?" Margot asked, her eyes focused on the papers in front of her.

"I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but the man was trash," he stated bluntly. His face suddenly grew serious. "He abused her. Ya know that, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that Officer Polsky," she said quietly. 

"I knew better than most," he continued. "I was the first responder for a couple of the domestic abuse calls we got. They always came from the house next door."

Margot nodded. "This might be uncomfortable, but in order to get a vivid and comprehensive depiction of the case we need to ask the unwanted questions. Could the defendant possibly have another motive for killing Mr. Wilson other than self-defense?"