Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(11)

Riddle walked out of the bathroom and over to his partner, who was standing next to his desk waiting to go into the interview room. His partner was gangly and twenty-six years old, a virtual baby in police work, named Bret Marshall. Marshall had only been in the Criminal Investigation Division for two months.

“Let me do the talking,” Riddle said.

“You got it.”

“We’re not recording this, so if I wind up thumping on him, you didn’t see a thing.”

“Absolutely.”

“You have no problem with that?”

“I’m not crazy about it, but I guess you do what you have to do.”

“That’s right. If it gets to be too much for you, you can always leave the room. Let’s go.”

Riddle burst through the door and slammed a thin file down on the table. He turned a chair around backwards and moved to within two feet of Kevin Davidson.

“There’s a theory in police work, Kevin, that the best way to conduct an interview is to coddle the suspect, make friends with him, gain his trust, and make him believe you’re there to help him. It’s all a lie, of course. So I’m going to tell you right off the top, I’m not here to help you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir, but I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“See? Now that kind of thing right there pisses me off and could wind up getting you hurt. I know how to hurt suspects, Kevin. I can beat them within an inch of their lives and not put a bruise on them. People lying to me pisses me off, and me getting pissed off causes me to beat on people sometimes.”

“So you’re telling me you’re going to beat me?”

The young man’s eyebrows raised, but he still didn’t seem frightened.

“That depends on whether you tell me the truth.”

“Maybe I should get a lawyer,” Kevin said. “I don’t think I like the way this is going.”

“Why would you want a lawyer? Have you done something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why would you want a lawyer?”

“Because you just threatened to beat me.”

“Nah, nah, you misunderstood me, Kevin. I said you wouldn’t get beaten if you told the truth. Isn’t that what I said, Investigator Marshall?”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“You already signed your Miranda waiver,” Riddle said. “That means you agreed to talk to us and waived your right to have an attorney present.”

“I can change my mind,” Kevin said.

Riddle laughed and looked at Marshall. “He can change his mind. Did you hear that? He thinks he’s a lawyer.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Kevin said. “I’ve studied it in school. I’m a criminal justice major, and I have a 4.2 Grade Point Average. I’ve already been accepted to law school. I have a right to remain silent, no matter what.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo for Kevin with the big brain,” Riddle said. “What say we stop all this tap dancing and get down to it? Tell me about the party.”

“Saturday night? Is that what this is about?”

Kevin and his two roommates—Dominic Vasso and Henry Treadway—were being interrogated at the same time. Six investigators—which was all the Criminal Investigation Division had, along with a captain—were interviewing suspects in three separate rooms. Depending upon how the initial interviews went, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation was standing by waiting to help.

“You tell me,” Riddle said. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. It was the week before the season started, we’d been busting our tails, and we figured we’d blow off some steam and have a party. One of the guys mentioned hiring a stripper. It started out as a joke, but it just sort of took on a life of its own. Thinking back on it now, was it a great idea? No. It was a terrible idea. But we did it and I can’t undo it. When the girl got there, this pretty redhead, she came up to me and chatted for a few seconds. She got her cash from one of the other guys and then she disappeared for a little while, and when she came back, she was stumbling all over the place. She must have taken something, because she was really messed up. She eventually started trying to do her thing, but she was so out of it she wound up just falling on the floor. Some guys got pissed off and started saying they wanted their money back. There was some name-calling, and eventually the girl made her way out the front door. Another argument started and she wound up staggering up the street. She left. That was it.”

“What was the argument about outside?”

“Same stuff as inside. Guys wanted their money back. She tossed out some racial stuff.”

“Did it get physical?”

“No. Did anybody call the cops? Because no cops showed up until you guys came this morning. Which is kind of strange, don’t you think?”

“Being a wise ass will get you hurt,” Riddle said. “Who hired her?”

“One of my teammates.”

“Which one?” Riddle said.

“I’m not ratting out a teammate. What difference does it make, anyway?”

“Tell me which teammate paid her.”

“No.”

“You’re obstructing justice.”