I stared at the ceiling, so nervous that if someone sneezed I’d have first-hand knowledge of what the surface of Saturn looked like. The metal chair chewed into my butt – not that alleged criminals should have the comforts of home. But in this case, I’ve done nothing wrong. Theoretically. Yet here I sit counting the holes in the acoustic ceiling tiles. Occasionally, I’d stop and ponder visions of being strapped in an electric chair and frying like a fritter in my own juices.
It doesn’t help that I’m in the same room with King Kong’s twin – a detective who looked as if he could spit nails in wood as an Olympic event. He seemed so snug with those steroid enhanced arms stuffed in a black knit top. He had deep set, beady brown eyes and worked a frown that could wither a plant.
Yep, I’m toast.
“One more time,” he said, voice so deep I’m sure it’d make Darth Vader wet himself.
“How’d you manage to break into the National Savings Bank?”
I afforded him a guiltless look, splaying my hands on the metal interrogation table.
“Sir,” I said in a polite yet firm voice. “How many times must I tell you I’m innocent?”
The malicious man sucked in air between his teeth. Now I felt the need to search high and low for a bathroom.
“Then explain the blue dye all over your face, hands and clothes.” He glanced at my head. “By the way, you got some in your hair. It really clashes with those flaming red highlights.”
Okay, did I fail to mention I’m covered with blue dye? It’s bad enough this makes me look guilty but the arresting officers had the nerve to bounce jokes about my being a minion from the forests of Pandora. One moron even called me an Avatar hand-me-down.
“As I clarified,” I begin with a wry smile, “I’m a victim…” My words stop when he touched a legal sized tan folder resting on the table. Without looking at it, he flipped the thing open.
“The statement you gave the arresting officer mentioned you’re a…” he stopped to mash his lips together yet his facial expression changed from the character EverMean from the Wiz, to Robin Williams doing his Mork characterization. “…a rainbow chaser?”
“Actually,” I corrected him, “I am a, “I deliberately coughed, “Leprechaun hunter.”
One of his hairy brows arched. And that laugh he’d been choking on almost erupted. “It’s a noble profession in Ireland I’ll have you to know.” I spat.
“But you’re not in Ireland, sir. And the fact that you are wearing blue paint from the dye packets from inside the satchels of money from First National points to you as being the thief.”
“Are you the lead detective here? If not,” I jammed my index finger on the table, “I would like to see him…or her.”
“The captain’s on the way. In the meantime,” he pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket, clicked and poised it over a white writing pad, “why not give me the 411.”
Biting my lower lip, I leaned back.
“As I said,” I began, “I hunt leprechauns. I’ve been tracking one particular rascal across America and finally caught him not far from here.”
“So you assaulted someone?” He started writing.
“No, no,” I stammered. “He wasn’t harmed in the least.”
“Well when I caught him, I demanded his pot of gold,” I huffed. “The little bugger wouldn’t give it to me – said it was against the code of Leprechauns. But he said if I let him go, he’d grant me three wishes.”
“And you said…”
“I took the offer.” I frowned.
“Okay, I’ll bite…what’d you ask for?”
“First, I wanted to be rich, hence the money you claim I stole.”
“The second wish?”
“The sports car I was sitting in when I got arrested.”
“And the third wish?”
“For a fine Irish lady with breasts the size of melons who’d read to me.”
“Let me get this straight. You wanted to be rich so this leprechaun stole a hundred and fifty million dollars and gave it to you. Then he presented you with a brand new red Jag which, by the way, you received a ticket for driving over a hundred miles an hour where the limit was forty.”
“Yes, well I panicked after the dye in the satchel spritzed me. That’s when I knew something was wrong and hauled out of there.”
“You do realize the car has dealer’s plates.”
“He stole the car, too?” I moaned and slumped my head back.
“’fraid so,” the man said. “Out of curiosity, did he grant your third wish?”
I looked at the detective, noted that brow arched again. Was he curious or just jerking my chain? Did it matter? I looked guilty in his eyes so whatever I said, or did, I would be doing time.
“No. And at this point, I don’t care if he does.” I laid my head back again.
The door opened just as I began counting the holes in the ceiling tiles again. Someone cleared their throat. Looking over the detective’s head, I saw a woman behind him. The first item I noticed? Her huge, ample breasts with nipples the size of bullets strained against a yellow blouse peeking out from beneath a dark blue jacket. Her flaming red hair set off emerald green eyes and she wore bright, fire engine red lipstick. I could even see the reddish-brown freckles dotting her cheeks.
My mouth gaped open.
The detective snickered, got up and left.
“Mr. O’Kearney?” she said in the loveliest voice I’d ever heard.
“Yes.” I managed to squeak the word out.
“I’m Captain Rebecca O’Shanessey. I’m told the arresting officers recited your Miranda rights but, just to be safe, let me read them to you again. You have the right to remain silent…”
Oh, I put my head down on the table, give me strength.