Naive by Charles Royce (world best books to read .txt) 📕

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, probably the dead guy fell off the wagon would be my guess.”

“Nice work, Palino. Anything else?” asked Detective Penance, halfway to getting off the phone.

“Yeah yeah yeah, just one more thing. There’s a sticker on each of these heroin baggies, with some sort of emblem on it. It’s one I’ve never seen before."

“An emblem? What do you think it is?”

“It looks like some sort of ghost or something.”

C h a p t e r   6

Micah is sitting alone in a holding room on the second floor of the police station. His hands are folded, his head down, the exact position as he was in the car on the way over. He is defeated, forlorn, anxious, sad, terrified. From his perspective, the room seems to be encroaching ever so slowly upon him, as if preparing to consume him. The light gray walls with fake wainscoting painted halfway up, the two-way mirror across from him that he can’t bear to look at, the camera with the flashing red light in the corner of the ceiling—all moving in, inch by inch.

With his tux and shoes in evidence, he is now wearing navy scrub pants and a white T-shirt, with flat white shoes peering from pant legs that are way too long. He is still partially caked in blood, around his face, his hands. He stares at his fingers and begins to pick at them.

Lily, waiting for her boss Detective Penance to arrive, sits in a cold aluminum chair across from Micah. She notices him deep in thought and allows herself to see him as the second victim of this tragic crime.

“How old are you, Micah?”

“Thirty-seven.” His response is obligatory.

“We tried to find your parents but fell a little short there.”

“Yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

Lily reaches for some empathy. She may be known as a bit cold-hearted, but she knows hurt when she sees it.

“I lost my mom a few years ago. Brain tumor.” She remembers a long season of life-changing decision-making.

“Yeah?”

Lily recognizes the connection and lets the silence do its job.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Breast cancer for mine,” Micah says, still picking at the dried blood. “Gosh, she was great. She mostly took care of me, like from ever since I can remember, to, well, always, really. Didn’t have another job. She used to be a kindergarten teacher, but mostly she was a housewife. Painted sometimes. I like to think I got my creative side from her.”

He relaxes his hands and places them on the stainless tabletop that separates them.

“Boy, she was strong, too,” he says. “She’d seen her sister die after a long battle with cancer. Fucking cancer, right?”

“Fuckin’ A,” Lily says before she can rephrase.

“We think she knew something was wrong for quite some time before she went to the hospital,” Micah says. “We think she just didn’t want us to worry.”

Lily scoots her chair forward. “Us? What about your dad?”

“Pssshht. That’s a whole other story. Great man, yes, but more of a pastor than a father. I mean, you know the drill, right? Christian family, gay son. That was fun. He’s the one who named me Micah. Stupid biblical name. Lenny always liked the name. But then again, he’s a Republican.” He pauses. “Was.”

“How did you two meet?” Lily is practicing her psychological skills.

“We met at a meeting. In AA. I was getting coffee and this really hot guy started staring at me while he was swishing around his powdered creamer.” Micah half-heartedly mimes a stirring motion with his hands. He laughs. “We smiled at each other across the room the whole night. Then a group of us went out after the meeting. We started talking. Figured out that we both worked for the same company. He was some bigwig finance guy at Élan Publishing, and I did freelance art direction for the same exact company. Can you believe that?”

“That’s quite a connection.”

“It is,” he says, switching tenses as if he’s in transition. “It’s a classic introvert-extrovert, thinker-feeler thing, ya know? He was the thinker, which I loved. And I feel everything, like everything, which is what he loves about me. Well, most of the time.”

He laughs, then stares at his reflection in the two-way mirror behind her. His smile turns downward.

Lily can tell he is about to clam up. “And how did your dad die?”

“It was pretty recent. Stage 4 kidney failure. Diabetes. He never took care of himself after Momma died.” Micah jerks his head away, wanting to scream. He runs his fingers through his hair and leans back with an audible groan.

“Can we stop, please?” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. Just for a second.”

Lily lets him be.

As Micah tries to relax, his teeth begin to grind. He begins to wonder where Shawn, his lawyer and his friend, could be. He hopes Jenna has found him. Shawn was at the event tonight too, he thinks. Maybe he still is.Jesus Christ. This is going to be a really long night.

Detective Penance enters. Lily stands.

“Micah, thank you for coming down here with us tonight. I know it’s been a rough evening for you. You’re free to go at any time, but I would love it if you’d answer a few questions for us. Is that okay?” Detective Penance asks.

“I have nothing to hide. I don’t mind.”

“There’s quite a story unfolding in your home. Would you mind telling me how your story goes?” Detective Penance raises his eyebrows.

“You mean after Lennox told me good-bye and said he’d meet me at the event later?”

“Sure. Start there.”

C h a p t e r   7

Earlier that night, Micah had looked around in awe, marveling at the red-carpet frenzy and the magnificent crowd. He couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect New York evening. The mid-August air was alive with a rare pre-autumn chill, and the lights from the paparazzi added just the right touch to Manhattan’s Midtown nightscape. Several news outlets had already