Free Free Fall by Chris Grabenstein

sir?”
    â€œWe’re gonna make this Oppenheimer woman pay for what she did to you. When I’m done with her, she’ll make the Boston Strangler look like a choir boy.”
    â€œOh, I don’t want to hurt Shona …”
    â€œDon’t worry. You won’t have to. I’ll do it for you. Come on.”
    And we follow the pit bull into his den.
    â€œOkay, let’s see what we’ve got,” says Nussbaum, flipping through a file folder when we’re all seated around his desk.
    I notice our chairs are kind of short. His, behind the desk, looks like it might be on an elevated platform.
    Nussbaum takes a photo out of the file. I recognize the shot. It’s one I took of Christine’s bruised and battered neck.
    â€œI called the SHPD right after you people called me. Demanded that they send me the police report of the incident in question, ASAP. They were quite cooperative.”
    â€œAs I’m sure you will always find them to be,” says Ceepak.
    â€œRight, right. You two are cops, correct?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œIn fact,” I say, “I wrote up that police report.”
    Nussbaum flips to the front page of the Case Report.
    â€œYou’re Boyle? The OIC? Officer in Charge?”
    â€œIf I need to leave the room because of any conflict of interest …”
    Nussbaum holds up his hand. “Not yet. We’re gonna be subpoenaing you … for the hearing …”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œOf course, I have to wonder why you didn’t arrest Mrs. Oppenheimer for assault and battery when you saw those ligature marks on Ms. Lemonopolous’s neck. Why you checked ‘Review Only’ down here instead of ‘Arrest Warrant.’”
    â€œShe claimed self-defense,” says Ceepak, jumping to my defense.
    â€œCome on, boys, don’t piss on my boot and tell me it’s raining. You two have been around the block. You both know your Forensics one-oh-one. So, Officer In Charge Boyle, since when are strangulation marks a sign of self-defense?”
    I clear my throat. Nervously. “Mrs. Oppenheimer claimed that she had to hold Christine by the neck to stave off her kicks and punches.”
    â€œWhat? She couldn’t do what most people do when someone’s whaling on them?” The lawyer holds up both his arms to block his face and body. “How come she didn’t pull a rope-a-dope like Muhammad Ali against George Foreman? Nineteen-seventy-four. The Rumble In The Jungle?”
    Okay. I’m feeling pretty dumb. Like maybe I should’ve slapped the cuffs on Mrs. Oppenheimer and dragged her off to jail when we caught that 911 call.
    â€œIs any of this relevant at this juncture?” asks Ceepak.
    â€œOfficer Boyle’s incredible SNAFU on the night of the inciting incident?” Nussbaum shrugs. “Nah. You were in a she said/she said situation. The only independent witness was a scared kid, the son of the Sea Haven Strangler. I probably would’ve done the same thing. Break ’em up, send them to separate corners, call it a night. But now that Oppenheimer is coming after Ms. Lemonopolous with the full fury of the law instead of her two fists, now we fight back.”
    I nod. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œOkay, Christine. Why’d Mrs. Oppenheimer want to wring your neck?”
    Christine takes a moment. Smooths out her pants legs. “We had a disagreement.”
    â€œYeah, yeah. And you tried to ‘defuse the situation by walking out of the room.’ I read your statement. Nice. Very sweet.”
    He makes a “gimme, gimme” gesture with one hand.
    â€œI need more.”
    â€œWell,” says Christine, “I don’t want to cause Shona any trouble …”
    â€œWhat?” Nussbaum is livid. “This Oppenheimer woman and her high-priced attorney are trying to screw you for life and you don’t want to cause her ‘any trouble’? They got a