WYWH, Chapter 4: Not a Good Idea to Make Him Mad
Oswald nervously looked from the skinny cop who reminded him slightly of himself to the overweight, red-faced, sweating one; the one who kept pacing the room, and occasionally slamming his fist onto the table. He must be playing "Bad Cop."
No one had said anything for several seconds, so Oswald shifted a little in the chair and bit the bullet. "Somebody's looking for Dr. Eppes, right?"
On cue, the tubby cop leaned over and pounded the table. "Don't think you won't be paying for every second of department time you waste, Smart Boy! Tell us where you dumped him now, and we can make this go down a little easier!"
Oswald jerked away from the snarling face and appealed to the other man. "I keep telling you, I didn't do anything! I don't know where Dr. Eppes is! Why would I do something to him, and then call 9-1-1?"
The thin man, sitting on the opposite side of the interrogation room table, leaned forward toward Oswald. He looked as if it truly broke his heart to say the words. "Mr. Kittner…Oswald…it's all right if I call you Oswald?"
The terrified boy-man nodded, even while he told himself they were playing him. The thin cop continued. "Oswald, we've already got your prints all over the room. On the door knob, the telephone. Lab results aren't in yet, but we're pretty sure we have fibers from your clothing, and your hair, on the bed. Forensics matched the sole of your shoe to a print found just outside the bathroom, in the wet carpet." If possible, the man's face took on an even more sympathetic look. "I can imagine what happened, kid. This guy takes you out of town, shows you a good time for a few days, and then he makes a move on you. You find out he wasn't really interested in you for your brain. The two of you struggle – maybe it was an accident. But after, you panic. You dump the body, and call us in, thinking that will make you look like less of a suspect." The morose policeman frowned, leaning back a little in his chair. "But you panicked, son. You forgot about all that evidence."
Oswald blanched and shoved his chair back, leaping to his feet. "No! No, you guys are crazy! I told you, I just went to his room because we were late!" The lard cop huffed his way over to him and pushed him, none too gently back into the chair. Still, Oswald looked into his face and protested. "Why would he do that? Dr. Eppes is a well-known math…mathema…math guy. He would never do that!"
Sweat from the gigantic cop actually bounced off Oswald's arm. "Not back in L.A. he wouldn't, no. Too much risk. So he brings you here, gets rooms in a separate hotel from where the conference is being held…"
Oswald buried his face in his hands. "No! Please, listen to me! That was my fault, because I couldn't decide whether or not to come to this thing. By the time I said I would, the other place was full!" He looked up again, at the sad cop, and allowed his voice to become plaintive. "Why are you guys doing this? Why do you keep talking about a body? Was there that much blood, or did you find a bullet, or something?"
The fat one leaned on the table, and Oswald heard it creak. He was waiting for it to crash to the floor when the guy shoved a stubby finger at him. "You're wasting my time, kid. You're gonna be sorry you did that."
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Don took a cab straight to the hotel, and used his FBI ID to bluff his way into Charlie's room. He looked around, saw the signs of struggle, and the blood in the bathroom. He looked around again. Something just didn't look right. He got what information he could from the officers on site, then went down the hall to talk to Oswald.
He banged on the door for almost two minutes, and was about to give up, when it finally opened a crack. A tiny redhead with bright green, terrified eyes gazed a foot up at him. "You a cop?", she whispered. "Where's Oswald? When can I leave? I don't know nuthin."
Don's mouth hung open. "I…is this Oswald Kittner's room?"
She nodded, then shrugged. "Dunno his last name." She glanced down the hall beyond Don at the activity around Charlie's room, and began to whine. "Look, I just met the guy last night. At Hardrock. We had a good time. He dances like a geek, but still…I didn't have to work this morning, so I came back to his hotel with him." She blushed. "We messed around a little, ya know? Finally fell asleep around 5:30, I think the clock said. Next thing I know, he's screaming something about being late and jumps out of bed like his shorts are on fire. Not that he was wearing any."
"Where is he now?", demanded Don.
She tossed her mane of red hair. "Man, I got up and went into the bathroom. I heard him bust back in here, and when I came out, he was on the phone with the cops." Her voice took on a disgusted tone. "I shoulda left then, but he was so freaked out. It was kind-of cute. So I waited until the cops got here. They took him down the hall, and told me to wait here." She grew petulant, again. "That was HOURS ago. I was starting to think you guys forgot all about me."
Don sighed and looked at the floor. He had just come from Charlie's room, and Oswald was not there. He'd been in law enforcement for years, he knew what that meant — they were wasting time questioning Oswald, ignoring his alibi, and taking manpower away from the hunt. He looked back at the girl. "You got a purse, or something? We're going downtown."
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Oswald was tired, hungry, confused and worried.
He kept telling these guys the same story, over and over. At first he had just been concerned about Charlie, but now he was getting a little worried about himself. They said they had evidence. He watched television, occasionally. He knew what that meant. He could end up in prison!
He was starting to hyperventilate a little when the door to the interrogation room opened. Both cops looked up, surprised. Somebody important stood there. Oswald could tell from his suit, and from the way the first two guys listened to him. "The kid has an alibi," he said. "Kick him loose."
The house-sized detective looked like someone was trying to steal his puppy. "Wha? Cap'n…"
Oswald jumped up happily, smiling like an idiot, when Agent Eppes pushed his way into the room. Oswald clenched his fist and mouthed a silent, "Yes!", as he watched Don shove his G-man badge into the florid face.
"You assholes have lost enough time! Kittner's alibi was down in his room, waiting for someone to come and get her all the time you've been browbeating this kid!" Don lowered his badge but took a step closer, so that his chest actually touched the bigger man's. Still, it was Don who looked intimidating. "Meanwhile, nobody is questioning hotel staff, or colleagues who might have seen something, and NO-ONE KNOWS WHERE MY BROTHER IS!" Don shrugged off the hands of the skinny cop, who had come to his partner's aide, as well as those of the Captain. His voice lowered to a growl. "I swear to all that is holy, I will have your badge, you disgusting piece of shit, and I will testify in court when Kittner sues this city for next year's budget."
Oswald's eyes got almost as round as the cop.
Damn. Agent Eppes could be one pissed off dude.