A Face for Murder

Things aren't always what they appear

Danny was high as a kite when the detectives burst into his apartment. The cheap wood of the door frame exploded inward with a crash; voices were screaming and lights were stabbing through the dim fog of the smoke filled room. It actually took Danny a minute to make sure he hadn't shit himself.

"Hands up! Get on the floor, NOW!"

Rough hands yanked him off the couch, and the next thing he was aware of was his cheek being pressed down against the scratchy carpet as cold metal clamped around his wrists.

Dude, I need to clean under there, he thought in his stoned haze, seeing big hairy dust bunnies under his couch.

Then he was hauled to his feet and whisked into the back of a squad car.

Dude.... he thought, having a hard time putting together different thoughts. It had been a monster bong he'd finished after breakfast. Dude...

"... don't even seem surprised," a uniformed policeman was saying to Danny. "You were expecting us, weren't you, asshole–"

"Sergeant, that's enough," said a stocky man in a tight button down shirt with a gold badge on his belt. Leaning in the car, he addressed Danny. "You're stoned. Do you yourself a favor, kid, and don't ask or answer any questions on the way to the station." He shut the door and shook his head, quoting a line from his favorite movie: "I'm surrounded by assholes!"

---

Danny shivered under the thin blanket in the cold interview room. He was wearing swim trunks and nothing else. He wasn't prepared to be in an air conditioned icebox like this. He had planned to spend the day in the nice warm sun by the pool over at Goob's place, see if his little sister, Polly, was still going with Hap or if Danny might have a chance. He'd had a thing for her since he was a senior and she was a sophomore in high school. She had always been nice to him. But just nice. He wondered–

The door opened suddenly. Not as suddenly as this morning. Who's gonna have to pay for that? he thought.

"Danny, my name's Buddy Bollenger, this is Fred Trey. We're detectives. And yes, my real name is Buddy."

"Hi, Buddy," Danny offered.

"How you feeling, Danny? You still stoned off your nut?"

Danny shook his head. He wondered if everyone sobered up quick in this cold room. He shivered again.

"Danny, do you know why you're here?"

"Yeah, I think so. The weed. But it ain't like I'm selling pounds of it, man, y'know what I mean? It's just nickle and dime stuff, y' know what I mean?"

Trey spoke up. "We don't give a tin shit about the dope, Dan."

Danny looked confused.

"Where were you May 8th? Danny?" Bollenger asked.

Danny thought for a while and shrugged. "I don't know, man. Today's like, what's today, the 20th?"

"It's the 21st."

"Yeah, man, I don't know. I was like, prolly over at Goob's kinda groovin'. He's got a studio in his place and we–"

"I don't want 'probably,' Danno. And neither do you."

Danny looked at them helplessly. "Shit, I don't know, seriously? Like, the days kinda blur by, y'know what I mean?"

Bollenger gritted his teeth. He hated when one of his interviewees ended every sentence with "y'know what I mean," "mahne," "see what I'm sayin'," etc.

"Would it jog your memory if I told you people say they saw you at the Murray Ward apartments on May 8?"

Danny furrowed his brows. "I don't go over there, man. People always gettin' robbed and shot and shit over there, y'know what I mean?"

Bollenger nodded his head. "As a matter of fact, I do know what you mean. In fact, someone was robbed and shot there on May 8. And I'm hearing you were hanging around there that day. People remember you because you were, and I quote, 'looking sus as hell.'" He paused. Then: "Y'know what I mean?"

Danny looked from one detective to the other, fear and confusion in his eyes. "No, man. No, I–"

Bollenger got up suddenly, growling sourly. "Fine. Sit tight a minute, Danno. Let me check on some things." He rose and left the room, the silent and somewhat surprised Detective Trey following close behind.

---

"This ain't him," Bollenger said, scowling. "This idiot probably doesn't even have his drawers on right side out; no way could he do a murder like this. Hell, he'd probably shoot himself!"

Trey chimed in. "Sometimes you can just tell from the way they look. But I'm with you on this; that kid ain't no killer."

---

Danny did get to spend the rest of his day at Goob's. The detectives had let him go, he told Goob and Polly (who was showing Danny a nicely satisfying amount of interest today), because he couldn't pick anybody from a lineup.

"They gave me a bunch of folders and told me to pick out the ones that looked familiar. I never seen any of 'em. I don't know who they're lookin' for or what they look like, and I'm glad. Man, them Murray boys…" He looked over at Polly. "Stay away from that place, kiddo. They're dangerous over there, y'know what I mean?"

Polly, who was nothing of a "kiddo" anymore, being physically only two years younger than Danny and emotionally probably about five years older, smiled and nodded.

---

Danny himself smiled all the way home that evening. Polly had sat next to him most of the day, looking spectacular in a one-piece bathing suit and short dark hair. He was gonna ask her out; he'd made up his mind. Maybe he'd talk to Goob first, though. You didn't just up and ask your buddy's sist–

He snapped out of his reverie quickly as he turned into the breezeway toward his apartment. He'd found a way to rig up the deadbolt, but the current threat was outside the apartment, not in it. For the second time that day, Danny went from high to sober in a flash.

"Where you been, 'Danno?'" asked a large man with midnight black skin wearing a snow white shirt, sarcastically using the nickname the detectives had used earlier in the day. Next to him stood an even larger man, a white guy who was ironically wearing all black. Danny had a moment to think they looked like a checkerboard. But only a moment.

"What… who are you?" He took a step back and ran into a third person. Christ I wonder how big he is? Danny thought.

The two in front had taken a step forward as he took stepped back.

"You was talking to people today, bitch. People downtown wit' suits and badges! What'd you say?"

"Wh--!"

The white man grabbed Danny by his neck.

"Ow!"

"You was talking to the cops, is what's goin' around. Cops askin' about that shit over at the Murray's! What'd you say, motherfu–"

"Nothin! I didn't say nothin' cos I don't know nothin, y'know what I mean? I don't even know who you are! Come on, I been swimmin' all day, I didn't say nothing to nobody, man, y'know what I mean?!"

The black man grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him aside; Danny hit the wall hard, his head bouncing off the bricks.

"Owff!"

The three men stared at him. "You don't say nothin'. To nobody. Someone even asks you your name, you walk the other way with your mouth shut, bitch." The man paused, then finished: "Y'know what I mean?"

With that, they walked out of the breezeway, each going a different direction.

Danny scrambled into his apartment and stood with his back to the door, whimpering. He had no doubt he'd just met whoever killed whomever in the Murray Ward Apartments in May. He sat on the couch with his hands shaking as he tried to text Goob what just had happened. Goob told him to come on back over to his place and lay low. Danny slid on some jeans and a rumpled shirt, picked up his crocs, and headed out the battered door. On the bright side, at least he'd get to see Polly some more.

---

"Didn't he say he was coming over?" Polly asked with more than just curiosity in her voice.

Goob nodded. "Yeah, he'll be here. He wouldn't pass up a chance to be with you." He winked at his sister who blushed a deep red.

"But you texted him an hour ago."

Goob shrugged. "Prolly stopped to get a dime, Pol, chill. He'll swing over."

---

Bollenger looked down and shook his head. "I'm gettin' too old for this shit," he said, quoting another of his favorite movies.

Trey nodded. "Poor dude. Somebody must've spread it around ol' Danno said somethin' to us this morning. Bet your ass nobody around here talks to us about so much as the weather for the next five years." He paused. "Had to've been something like that; that ain't worth getting killed over." He pointed to the small baggie of marijuana next to Danny's outstretched bloody hand.

The two heard sobbing coming from the perimeter of the crime scene tape. A pretty girl with short dark hair had her face buried in a young man's chest, sobbing.

Bollenger looked at her, feeling the familiar anger mixed with compassion. He really was getting too old for this. He looked back down at the poor kid's bloody face. He quipped ironically to Trey: "I guess he had the look for this kind of thing after all. …Y'know what I mean?"