WARNING: CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE.

The entire story (to date) in beautiful, readable HTML, courtesy of the wonderful Dropbox. Great for catching up, too. Link: The Hidden Crime

Chapter 7: Street smarts.

The nicely formatted version: In HTML

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"Theresa, my beautiful daughter, loved life. She had her flaws, but she was a good person who deserved to be happy. I remember the time when she was six, we were at a departmental store, and I lost her. I was distracted by something---I don't even remember what now---but when I turned, she was gone. I only looked away for a few seconds. I was really, really scared, more than I've ever been in my entire life. Eventually, after a lot of hysterical panicking on my part---some of you might know that about me---I found her in a playroom. Somehow, she must have decided she was bored with the adults, and found her way there by herself. She was teaching a four year old boy how to build a castle out of Lego. And she...she..."

Mrs Lakewood, Terri's mother, stopped at that point and sniffed into her handkerchief. She gave herself a minute or two to compose herself before sharing more anecdotes about her daughter. It was a beautiful church, where we were at. I was never religious, but at that moment, I wished I believed in the afterlife. If I did, perhaps I would be consoled by the hope of one day reuniting with her.

The funeral service lasted for a few hours. There were so many people sobbing. Some of them didn't even really know Terri. But not me. I didn't cry that day. Or any day before that. Not even on the day she had died. Dan, my best friend, kept thinking I was going to break down at any moment. After all, he was the only one who knew about my simple plan to propose to her, finally, after three years of being together. The ring in my pocket was now just a reminder of how stupid I was for waiting so long. Tomorrow. I would return the ring to the jewellery store tomorrow.

Towards the end of the service, I needed air. So I left the church. That was when I first laid eyes on her murderer. Of course, I didn't know who he was at that time. I wasn't even a little bit suspicious. The man somehow appeared disheveled even when dressed in a neat black suit. He had a grim and distant look on his face, as he remained just outside the church, close enough to listen to the service, but not enough for the people inside to notice his presence. The woman next to him must have been his sister --- they had the same curly black hair. The three of us introduced ourselves awkwardly. Kyle Panopoulus. Two weeks later, he turned himself in.

---

I shrugged off the unpleasant memory of Terri's funeral. Having managed to look more suspicious than a kid caught with both hands in cookie jars, I needed to focus on the present more than ever. It was already 7pm, I noted, as I stepped out of the police station. The interview with the detective had somehow lasted for more than an hour and a half.

The engagement ring with the damning inscription was somewhere out there, and I couldn't let the detectives get their hands on it. Even if you're guilty? Since the detectives suspected it was in a pawnshop, that was where I needed to look first.

Only, if I attempt to go to these pawnshops myself, I could end up making myself even more suspicious, especially if I bumped into the detectives! Suddenly, I felt like looking over my shoulder. Did they send anyone to tail me? With how I was acting, I wouldn't be surprised if they did! Maybe I should call Dan up instead and get his help yet again. I bet when we first met two decades ago, he never imagined he would one day have to do anything like this.

Wait, Dan was my alibi, so they probably knew his face too. Fuck! There was no one else I trusted enough for something like this. No one else even knew I was planning to propose to Terri...

My throat felt dry. The detectives didn't even offer me a drink the whole time I was there. Turning away from the train station, I walked into an old convenience store. One of the lights were occasionally blinking, making me wonder if I had made a mistake coming in here. Pulling open a refrigerator, I grabbed a bottle of chilled water and brought it to the counter.

"Two dollars," said the store clerk.

What a bargain, I thought, suddenly remembering why I never go to these shops. I pulled out my credit card and handed it to her. Then, my eyes fell upon a bunch of prepaid cellphones on sale, hanging on a rack by the counter. I felt myself stiffening as a thought crossed my head. Should I really do this?

"Please sign, sir."

Without looking away from the cellphones, I took her pen and signed the receipt wordlessly.

She barely even glanced at my signature before she returned my card. "Thank you, sir."

"Uh, actually, I'll get one of these phones after all," I took one and placed it on the counter. "My phone's broken, you know," I smiled nervously. Sure, that wasn't at all suspicious.

"Card again, sir?"

"Yes---uh, wait," I pulled the card back, suddenly realising I didn't want my 'burner phone' purchase to be on my credit card. I fished out some cash from my wallet instead, suddenly thankful I had been to the ATM recently. "Might as well use up my cash," I reasoned. Now that definitely didn't scream 'guilty' at all.

But, she didn't even so much as to raise an eyebrow when she accepted my cash. The area was known for its criminal elements, though, so maybe she was already used to it? My initial credit card purchase should put the detectives off from finding out about the cellphone, so it worked out. That was the theory anyway.

Before walking out of the store, I removed the cellphone out of the box and memorised its number. Now that I had a burner phone, what could I use it for? As I was walking by a group of punk teenagers, I suddenly had an idea. Of course. Could it be that easy?

Paranoid about the possibility of being followed, I continued walking into the train station, as if I had nothing else in my mind but to get home. As soon as I entered the station, out of sight of a possible tail, I quickly made a beeline towards an underground walkway beneath the building. My heart was thumping hard in my chest. I smiled nervously when I saw a group of street thugs hanging out in one corner of the walkway. You can do this.

"Hey, guys," I greeted with a careful smile.

All seven teenagers in baggy clothing turned toward me and frowned. At least two of them brandished a penknife, as if in warning. One of them stepped forward ahead of the group. "Oi, punk, you lost or sumthin'?" This 'leader' had a shaved head and a hard expression, a look one might think was beyond his years. Like the rest of the group, however, he was lanky.

I raised both my hands, showing my empty palms. "No, no, I just got a...business preposition for you," I explained while slowly pulling a fifty out of my wallet. "Here, take this."

The leader of the group looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and perplexity. Nonetheless, he reached over and snatched the note from my hands. "Whaddaya want for it?"

"Well, you see," I began nervously. "I lost my engagement ring recently, and I'm pretty sure it's been sold to a pawnshop." I swallowed, suddenly feeling thirsty again.

"And?" the teenager crossed his arms. That was when I first noticed a dragon tattoo on his forearm.

"I need it early tomorrow," I explained as I pulled out a notepad and pen from my bag. "As soon as you see a ring with an inscription that says 'the lucky woman I am going to marry', call me on this number." I tore off the page and handed it to the teenager. Looks like the burner phone is useful already.

The street thug took the number and glanced at it with amusement. "What makes you think I won't just keep the fifty and split?"

"Because I'll make it worth your while if you find me my ring. Let's just say I have hundreds to spare."

He pondered at the cash in his hand for a minute, before pushing it into the back pocket of his fades jeans. "What does the inscription say, again?"

---

I knocked on the door twice, then once. Almost immediately, the door flew open, revealing a worried-looking Dan. A feeling of guilt rushed through me. I resisted the urge to enter his apartment when he pushed his door open wider in invitation.

"Hey," I said instead.

"Hey."

"About the alibi thing..."

"Anytime, dude. You know I'll always have your back."

What kind of friend makes another break the law? This has gone too far. "I think we should keep apart for a bit. I don't want the---"

"---the detectives to know how close we really are?"

I nodded. "You got it," I said quietly. "Easier to believe an alibi from a neighbour than a childhood friend." Now, thanks to you, Dan might even get charged for obstruction of justice.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Seb, you know you're innocent, right?" he replied instead.

"How can you be so sure?" I felt my voice cracking a bit.

There was determination in his eyes. "Think about it. I've never seen you with a switchblade, like ever. How would you even know where to get one?"

I shrugged dismissively. "Maybe it was Kyle's."

"And you were covered with blood all over, right? Why was it only on your clothes and on your bed?" he continued. "There was no blood anywhere else, not even on the knob of your front door that morning. How do you explain that?"

"Maybe I wiped my hands on my pants before opening the door."

"And dude, how on earth did you get home from the club that night? It's at least an hour by foot, and I'm pretty sure you didn't take a cab or the subway if you were covered in all that blood!"

"It's only an hour's walk. I've done it before."

He threw up his hands in frustration. "For fuck's sake, Seb!" Dan rubbed his temples. "Look, what I'm trying to say is you're being set up. Someone is pinning this on you."

I frowned at him. It wasn't like I haven't thought of that during one of my 'good' moods. "But why? Is it because someone wanted to destroy me, or because someone wanted to kill Kyle?"

"Dude, fuck if I know."

"So, we have nothing."

"No, it means now we have to go and find out. Do Kyle or yourself have any enemies?"

Some of my colleagues' backstabbing faces popped into my mind at that moment. "I don't know. Look, Dan, thanks for everything, but I don't want you to get involved any further."

My best friend only laughed dismissively. "Try and stop me."

I smiled at that. "Anyway, I have to go back to my apartment now. I think the police might be watching me."

He cringed. "That bad, huh?"

"Remember poker nights in college? This was so much worse."

---

The phone call came in the next morning while I was waiting for my train in the subway. At first, I didn't realise the burner phone was ringing, because it was the first time I was hearing it. I drew a deep breath before answering the phone.

"We found your ring," said the leader of the street thugs. "This pawnshop is selling it for like three hundred bucks."

Silently whooping in celebration, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "Where is it?" I had five hundred in cash which I had saved up for a rainy day packed into my work bag.

"Uh-uh, money first."

"Fine. If you have the cash, buy it from the shop right away and meet me. I'll give you two hundred on top of the ring cost."

"Hey, me and my boys, we don't have that kind of money."

I cursed softly. It was worth a try. "I understand. Give me a minute."

The detectives were looking for the ring as we speak, so I shouldn't delay this any further. But if I tried to collect the ring myself, how late will I be? Do I call in sick again? What if I bumped into the detectives?

Maybe I can offer the street boys cash to pick up the ring for me? No, if I gave them three hundred, I would only have two hundred left. They'd have no reason to actually buy the ring and trade it for two hundred. Plus, how much can I really trust these guys?

"Oi, we don't have all day," barked the teenager in my ear. "Are we doing this or what?"