Killing the High by Sean Kirkland

Author:Sean Kirkland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: lc kirk, sean kirkland, noir, african american literture, african american authors, hard boiled detective stories, dime novels, pulp, selling, best, femme fatale, private investigator
Publisher: Basslife Books
Published: 2018-04-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

BADBOYS, BADBOYS

How long is this gonna take I said to Det? Wheeler Frye. It was 4:45 pm. I was in a dark utility closet with the door cracked. The smell of ammonia and other cleaning solutions burned my nose.

She's leaving in a few minutes said, Wheeler. I'll bring Valentine to the interrogation room and come back and get you in after the Captain is gone.

He pushed the door closed. It was small dark and mildly full of fumes. I’m am more than a tiny bit claustrophobic. So almost instantly. I felt beads of sweat form on my brow.

I closed my eyes. Trying to trick my body into thinking this was by choice. I don’t do well when I am uncomfortable. I get anxiety. One of the main reasons I smoke is my crippling anxieties.

What I need now is to smoke. I pat my pockets to no avail. I left my THC vape pen at the office. That would be perfect right now. The vapor dissipates and doesn’t leave the musky smell of pot every cop ever knows.

But I had my tiny Sneak-a-Toke pipe. I really shouldn't smoke weed in a Police station. I won't do it. I can't risk not being able to speak with Patrick. Before he's shipped off to prison to await trial. No, I won't do it. Not just so I can get high.

2 minutes later...

So I’ve just finished smoking my weed in the Police Station. I was using my mini-flashlight to hunt around the small room for air freshener.

I just laid my hands on a can of Lysol. When I heard a light knock followed by the door opening. The pot smoke hit Det. Wheeler Frye in the face like Mike Tyson. His face turned a shade of Washington Apple.

Got Dammit Kinkayd, really. I can't fucking believe you, man. I did my best not to crack up. I have to admit. The flustered look on his face amused me. This isn't fucking funny he said. I could get reamed for this shit.

Maybe you should just come in the closet and take a toke I said. Spraying the Lysol everywhere. Seems like you might blow a gasket if you don’t.

A few minutes later I was in Interrogation Room B. It was a hot little box of a table and chairs. There wasn’t a two-way mirror in here like on TV. No camera. It was just me and Patrick Valentine.

He’s been kept in holding since his arrest. Normally Patrick would’ve been wearing his street clothes.

But since he was arrested butt ass naked. He was wearing an over-sized gray prison jumpsuit and flip-flops. His patchy beard had a few days of growth plus a few new grays.

He eyed me curiously. I took a seat in front of him. OK, Mr. Valentine. I only have 10 minutes with you. I need to know everything. The truth. About you and Archer Hood.

At first, his face seemed to offer the same protest every Black man's face does when being questioned by the cops.

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