Take the Deal

'But what that kid said yesterday, sir? Maybe he's right. Maybe he has nothing to do with all of this.'

'James; listen to me, boy. One of the very important things you should know about killers is that they'll be willing to say anything to save their skin. That's exactly what that little runt was trying to do. You can't pull one over Inspector Charles Hemnar, James. You just can't. That kid lost this fight when he decided to try to make me look like a jackass.' He got into the car and turned on the ignition. 'We'll nail 'em, James. Don't you worry. We'll nail the bastards. Are you still at Coffee Kings? Maybe I can come pick you up.'

'No need, sir. I grew up on a farm in case you forgot. I know how to walk long distances. For me, the station is just around the corner.'

'Don't be proud, James. Tell me where you are and I'll come get you.'

He paused for a long while. He laughed, 'No, seriously, sir. I'm already on my way to the station right now.'

The inspector shrugged as he got onto the road, skilfully turning the wheel with his left. 'Fine, I'll meet you at the station.'

'Sure thing, sir.'

Clarissa softly closed the door behind her. She made her way to the living room. Her parents were already waiting for her. Outside, the sun had begun to set and she wondered how long they had waited for her on that couch. Her mother was sitting on the far left of the couch and her father to the far right. It was as though the vast space between them they had created specially for her. She could tell they were pretending to be watching the TV. Her mother had her elbow resting on top of the armrest and her chin on top of her knuckles. Her father on the other hand had his arms folded. She knew that even though she wanted to escape the impending hell, she had no choice but to get it over with. And so with books pressed against her chest, she walked towards the sofa and claimed her spot. She sank right in.

They continued to pretend to watch the TV. It was an action movie; the only genre that her mother hated.

'What did they say?' her mother finally broke the silence. She asked in a faint whisper, her eyes on the screen.

Clarissa placed her books beside her. She leaned back into the couch and crossed her arms. 'Charles wants me to rat on Sineas,' she said.

Her mother looked at her from the corner of her eye. 'What else?'

'He said if I rat on Sineas…if I find something they can use against him, then I'll be off the hook permanently. No more class interruptions, no more long drives to the station and no more talks of the jealous and bitter ex playing doctor with her ex-boyfriend and his skank.'

'So?'

'So, what, mom?'

'Did you accept the deal?'

Clarissa did not turn her eyes from the screen but she could feel her mother's eyes burning the side of her face. She shook her head.

'Clarissa!' she wrung her hands.

'Mom, I'm not that person! I'm sticking to my story. Sineas is a good guy.'

'A good guy doesn't kill people, Claire. But do you know who does? An evil, wickedly wicked and messed up person.'

'And where's the evidence?'

'Claire, it's clear that this boy's father's death did something to him. No child watches his own father blow his brains out and just go back to being normal. Why do you think his aunt's been home-schooling him for so long?'

'How did you even know that he was home-schooled?' she asked looking suspicious of her mother.

'The inspector told me.'

'Charles…of course,' she laughed scornfully. 'So home-schooling someone makes them a serial killer?'

'No, but haven't you asked yourself why she would choose home-schooling over a proper institution?'

'Maybe it's just a preference.'

'Clarissa, wake up! This isn't a romance movie. This is real life and in real life, protecting a killer will get you killed!'

'I'm not protecting a killer, mom. I'm protecting an innocent person Charles wants to send to jail for nothing.'

'Did you ask him?'

'Ask him what?'

Mrs. Sherman moved closer to her. 'Claire, did you ask him if he killed those people?'

'Why would I even ask him that?'

'Because I want you to look him in the eye when you ask him that question. Just look him in the eye and you will know if he's lying or not.'

'Mom, I'm not a psychiatrist. I don't know how that stuff works but one thing I'm certain of is that Sineas did not kill anyone.'

'Speaking of psychiatrists, did you know that that psychiatrist…what's his name again?' She snapped her fingers over at her husband.

He seemed lost in the movie. Perhaps he had not been pretending after all.

'Ivine!'

'What? What?' He broke free from the trance.

'That dead psychiatrist that was on the news. What was his name?' she asked him.

'Uh…' he placed a finger on his temple. Was it…something-something Jacob?'

Clarissa sighed. 'Darren Jacob.'

'Yes!' Mrs. Sherman said now turning back to her daughter. 'Did you know he was that boy's psychiatrist? Inspector Charles told me, Claire. Not only was that boy seeking help but he killed the help!'

'Mom, I already knew Darren Jacob was his psychiatrist. I talked to him about it. He seemed upset about his death.'

Her mother immediately clapped her hands, laughing sarcastically. She said, 'And you fell for it? Are you that much in love with this boy that every piece of trash that comes out of his mouth is treasure to you? I suggest that you take this deal because I don't think the inspector is going to keep it on the table forever. In fact, I don't suggest, we command you to take it.' She looked over at her husband. 'Ivine!'

'What? What?' He came back.

Her wife glared at him, suggestively of course.

'Uh…' he looked at his daughter, '…Yes, Clarissa. You take that deal with both hands and…yeah, what your mother said.' He turned back to his movie.

'You heard your father,' Mrs. Sherman said to Clarissa.

'And yet you're the ones who told me to stay away from him,' she muttered re-crossing her arms and pouting at the TV.

'And have you?'

Silence.

'Good. That's why now we want you to get close enough to throw him under the bus. Trust me, Claire, It's for your own good. It's time we got rid of the filth in our neighbourhood.'

Sineas had taken off his clothes and only left his trunks. He sat at the edge of the bed, in the pitch-black darkness rubbing his hands nervously together.

'The inspector and his overzealous sidekick won't stop until they put you behind bars, Sin. I'm sure you know that. They've already cooked up some theories that could convince a jury. And don't forget that you're black. In a neighbourhood like this, your skin colour is a guilty plea on its own.'

Sineas continued to rub his hands, his head stooped low. Very low. He looked like he was on death row. 'I don't know what I did to deserve this. How could people think I'm capable of doing something like that? I…' a few tears fell from his eyes, '…I'm just a kid. I wouldn't hurt anyone.'

' *Sigh* It's the world we live in, Sin. We live in a dark place, and I'm not just talking about your room.'

'So what should I do? What can I do? How do I prove to them that I'm innocent?'

'My advice? Don't do anything. Don't do anything at all. Just let life play itself out. They do say that the truth always comes out; so keep your hands tied, mouth shut and let it.'