Quagmire by Brian W. Smith

Author:Brian W. Smith [Smith, Brian W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Suspense
Amazon: B0147FHU74
Publisher: Brian W. Smith
Published: 2015-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“Yesterday. She was supposed to come over, but she never showed up.”

Dotson pointed at the wine and dinner table. “Looks like you were preparing for an intimate dinner.”

“Umm, yeah,” Carl mumbled. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks and chin. His forehead crumpled. Awwh shit, this don’t look good. They’re gonna think I had something to do with Ivy’s disappearance. “Look, I didn’t have anything to do with Ivy’s disappearance.”

“We never said you did,” said Detective Smith.

“I know, but I’m sure y’all are probably aware she was coming over here yesterday. Y’all wouldn’t have come over here if you didn’t know something about that.”

“Enlighten us, Mr. Tolbert.”

Detective Dotson studied Carl’s face while maintaining a little more than an arm’s length distance from the nervous man. He and his partner worked in perfect harmony. While Detective Dotson kept the suspect distracted she scrutinized every inch of the apartment.

“Umm, well…she was supposed to come over so we could discuss our relationship. I’m not gon’ lie, I was hoping we would get back together.” Carl used his sleeve to dab the perspiration forming on his brow. “I made dinner and bought some wine, but she never came.”

“You sure about that?” asked Detective Smith.

Carl turned around. “Yeah.”

“Do you wear a bra?” Detective Smith asked.

Carl answered with a shrug and a confused look.

The detective pointed at the bra on the floor and used a ball point pen to pick it up by the strap. “Care to tell us who this one belongs to?”

Shit. This really doesn’t look good. “Uhhh, Ivy…that belongs to Ivy.”

“Why is it on your floor?” Dotson asked.

Carl started fidgeting. “Ummm, it must have fallen out of the box.”

“What box?” Detective Smith asked.

“The box outside of my door.” Carl pointed at the front door and took a step toward before being halted.

“Stay right there, Mr. Tolbert,” Detective Dotson ordered. He walked backward, careful not to turn around until his butt brushed against the door knob. Dotson opened the door and looked down at the ground and then he glanced in both directions of the breezeway. “There is no box out here, Mr. Tolbert.”

“What do you mean?”

Dotson waved him over.

Carl glanced back at Detective Smith, who now had her hand on her gun holster. He didn’t move until she gave him the go ahead with a quick nod.

“There was a box here,” he pointed. “It had all of Ivy’s stuff in it. I put it there.”

Detective Smith allowed the bra to fall to the floor. “Why would you put a box of her stuff outside your apartment?” she asked and started moving closer to Carl and he partner. She was a relatively new detective, and she acted like one—always looking for an excuse to draw her weapon. “You said you were preparing a romantic dinner for her.”

Shit. I’m in trouble. “Look, I know this looks bad,” Carl’s tone flirted with panic, “but I can explain.”

“You should come down to the station and explain your side of the story in a written statement,” Dotson urged.

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