Free A Lil' Less Hopeless by Tara Oakes Page A

play on the coffee’s surface from the vibrations. Just as I'm lowering my fingertips again, the door opens yet again, with yet another suit, another manila folder.
    Wait. Holy fuck.
    “Hi, Lil's.”
    Wow. He's actually going to try to play this off like it's no big deal.
    “Hi yourself, Pretty Boy.”
    He smiles warmly and pulls up the chair across from me. “Sorry about all this. I really am. I've been doing my best to get them to hold off on bringing you in.”
    “Well, thank God for small favors,” I say, trying to mask any signs of shock.
    He laughs under his breath. “I need your help, Lil's.”
    Oh, he needs help all right. “Do you, now?”
    Chris sits back and loosens his tie. “Hear me out.”
    He holds his hands palm up in front of him. “I've been undercover with the Slayers for a while. We were gathering intel, building a case. We had almost everything we needed and were just about to make a bust when you were taken. Things started to really heat up... and we thought maybe we could could get just a bit more... really make the charges stick.”
    “And that got a girl killed,” I add.
    Chris takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. “And... that got a girl killed. You're right. I'm not looking to dodge it. I'm looking to try to make it right here, Lil's.”
    “Oh really? And how exactly do you make something like that right?”
    “By making sure another innocent person isn't ruined because of Shade. The powers that be are gunning to pin this on someone fast, Lil's. You need to know that. Your prints were on the murder weapon. There were no witnesses. You had a motive.”
    I throw my hands down on the table top. “Damn right I had a motive... so did a helluva lot of other people! That doesn't mean I killed him!”
    Special agent Pretty Boy, or whatever his real name is, gently slides the manila folder my way.
    “I have reported from day one, that you could not have committed the murder. Lil's. You know it, and I know it. But I do think you know who did. Because I can only stall this for so long before I'm gonna get steamrolled on this one, and they're gonna settle for you, regardless of any doubts.”
    I eye the folder critically. “I can't help you. I don't know anything. When I got to the living room, Shade was already dead. I picked up the gun to protect myself.”
    Chris opened up the folder and set a blank piece of paper in front of me. “Write down what you just told me. We'll make an official statement. That should stall things for a little while.”
    He slipped a long, thin pen from his inside pocket and clicked the end loudly. I thought hard about my options. There weren’t too many of them. I could refuse, and run the risk of being arrested right here on the spot for failing to cooperate. Or, I could fill out his statement. On one hand, I could help clear my name... but at what cost?
    “Don’t trust the cops.” I can’t tell you how long I’ve heard those words in some form or another. Almost as long as I’ve heard “Don’t be a rat.” I didn’t know what the fuck to do....
    Just as I’m about to reach for the silver pen that Chris is extending my way, a quick rapping at the closed wooden door causes us both to jolt. Bernie, the club’s attorney rushes in before the uniformed cop standing guard outside can open the door completely.
    “Bernard Ruben, Esquire. I am Miss Kaegan's counsel.” He presents his business card to Chris. “Do you have any plans to place my client into custody?”
    Pretty Boy tucks the small rectangular item into his shirt pocket and stands to face Bernie. I’ve always liked Bernie. He’s been my dad’s lawyer ever since I can remember. With the amount of trouble that Butch has managed to find himself in over the years, let’s just say I’ve had to rely on Bernie quite a bit.
    I have no doubt who sent him. I’m sure Jay is somewhere out in the lobby raising hell, or has probably already been arrested for disturbing the peace,