“Oh, but you will.”
“We’ll see about that.” Jimmy stabbed at his food with a bit more force than necessary, struggling to make small talk for the rest of the meal. He couldn’t escape the feeling that something was very wrong.
After dinner, Cold brought Jimmy into his private office. They didn’t spend much time here, probably because the only horizontal surface was the desk, and Cold was very particular about keeping it neat.
There were no electronics here, no computer or fax; that was Cold’s way. Pen and paper only, like his ledgers where he kept track of his criminal empire.
The office had certainly been ransacked during the search, but Cold had meticulously put everything back in order. He gestured for Jimmy to sit down at the chair in front of the desk and took his place in the mammoth armchair behind it.
“We’re going to call Miss Beccali so she can help prepare you for your statement tomorrow,” Cold explained, setting his phone on the desk between them.
“Why? I mean, I know what I saw.”
“Ah, but it’s what you will say that I’m concerned with.”
“I’m not going to lie, Rod.”
“Nor am I asking you to.”
“But you’d have me withhold information?”
“No.”
“You’re so freakin’ confusing. Fine, go ahead and call her. Let’s just get this over with.”
Cold pushed a button on his phone, the line ringing twice before Christine picked up.
“Christine Beccali here.”
“Good evening, Christine,” Cold said politely. “Are we ready?”
“Absolutely. Mr. Poe? Are you ready to tell me what happened today?”
“Sure,” Jimmy said, scrubbing his palm against his forehead. “We were on the way to Rod’s arraignment, and I wanted to get him some flowers. There was this vase that got broken during the search, and I know how much he likes calla lilies. I wanted to surprise him.
“I walked into the store. Rang the bell. I told the clerk, Mr. Waugh, that I needed flowers.” Jimmy closed his eyes as he accessed the memory again. “He started yelling that it wasn’t his fault, that they made him do it. He grabbed a gun, pointed it at me.”
“Who was with you?” Christine interjected.
“Charlie,” Jimmy replied. “He walked into the store with me. He, he was right behind me. He tried to talk to Mr. Waugh, but I don’t... I don’t remember exactly what he said. I think it was something about getting the flowers and just leaving, that we didn’t want any trouble.”
“Then what happened?”
“Mr. Waugh said that he was gonna kill him and that’s why we were there. He said he couldn’t live like this and...”
Yelling. Gunshot. Red.
“Then he shot himself.”
“Who did Mr. Waugh say was going to kill him?” Christine asked firmly.
“He didn’t say, not exactly. He just said ‘he.’”
“Who do you think it was?”
“How am I supposed to answer that?” Jimmy scoffed angrily.
“Honestly.”
