The Winthrop Discussions

From WikiStory

Robert Winthrop seemed little different from any of the endless hordes of students who matriculated in and out of Southern State. Light brown hair, a little too long for a business-type, curled around his forehead in tangles; the result of negligent hair care. His battered gray t-shirt was adorned with an advertisement long since faded by industrial strength dryers at the wash-and-fold. Flip flops and cut off khaki shorts hanging to his knees completed his endearing collegiate uniform. A uniform, however, not endearing enough to relieve him from from his current predicament.

Seated directly across from the table from him was a slightly over-weight police office, reeking of cigarette smoke and orange juice - a nauseating combination for even the most sure-footed of stomachs. As the man spoke, his neatly manicured mustache danced and hid the policeman's lips, making it seem if his words were being thrown from unseen marionette. Robert had seen this cliche play out countless times on pretentious courtroom dramas that played on a seemingly endless loop through out the early evening, which was when he normally woke up.

"What you looking at, boy?" The policeman shouted in a voice that was one part inquisition and one part cough.

"Nothing sir. I just want a smoke." He didn't smoke, but he decided it would be an appropriate addition to the situation he was in.

The policeman, to Roberts surprise, obliged by sticking his head out of the frosted glass door and yelling at some office to "Bring him a fucking smoke." This power almost curled a smile around the solemn face that Robert was forcing. It had been a long day and he was starting to slip into an exhaustion-induced delirium. Before his custody, he had spent four days as a volunteer in a psychology experiment on campus, studying the effects of sleep deprivation. He been in a suite of rooms in the psych department, under constant surveillance, drinking coffee, surfing the internet, watching TV and smoking. Then he had been hauled in for interrogation. He was quite sure that he would be insane soon.

"Take your cigarette son,"

"You took my lighter too... so..." Robert almost garnered the huevos to wink but decided he better not push it further. The officer yelled to his supplier in the hall, and paused, awaiting an answer. When the pause turned awkward, the officer strung together a series of unrelated obscenities and walked to the door to get the attention of the cigarette supplier. Just as he was about to turn the corner he met with the supplier, who was a much skinner man than himself, and the momentum from their crash sent the smaller officer to the floor and caused the larger office to stumble backwards a bit. Obviously embarrassed, the two officers didn't acknowledge the incident and the lighter was exchanged.

Robert couldn't contain the laughter boiling inside his gut and he let it out slowly in what sounded like a series of hiccups of belches. These strange noises drew both officer's attention to him, which was not a hard thing to do since they were both looking for a way to alleviate the awkwardness that their misstep had caused. The fat officer slid the lighter across the table and gratefully took his seat across from Robert.

"Where were you last Thursday?"

"Class, then out with friends."

"What are their names?"

"Bethany, Corsica, and some brunette girl whose name was ... Shit, I can't remember. I think she is a cheerleader. She was pretty hot though."

"So you mean to tell me that you were hanging out with three girls and no guys," the policeman said, with a wary eye.

"Yeah. I met my other guy friends out later. Sorry sir but I don't know what this has to do with what you are accusing me of. Wasn't Blakeley murdered on Monday?"

"We're not totally certain. By the time our team arrived at her house she had been dead for a considerable time. Rigor mortis had long since set in. The sick fuck who killed her wrapped her in some kind of pseudo-mummy wrap or preservative. The killing could have occurred weeks ago for all we know."

"Well it sounds like you don't have much of a leg to stand on now do you? I mean, isn't the main thing you have to prove in a murder investigation time of death? At least that is what they do on Law and Order. And I have been in D.C. most of the last two months - I only came back on Wednesday. I spent all that day at home, with my entire family, both nuclear and extended. As I said, I was out Thursday with Bethany, Corsica and ... I think it was Tallulah. The brunette. And since then, well I had volunteered for the psychology experiment so I was pretty well under observation all the days since. They have the tapes in the psychology department."

"This isn't Law and Order son," the fat officer said in a voice that, had it not been for his absurd bouncing mustache, would have been a little menacing.

Robert realized that he would not be held much longer. It wouldn't be great publicity for the police to hold the son of a representative without warrant, a benefit that had proved very useful in Robert's aggressive life. Blakeley Morris, his ex girlfriend, the only girl who had ever had the temerity to dump him, had been found dead three days earlier. It was known around Clarksdale County that Robert had not taken rejection well.