Helping People Get Away with Murder

Submitted into Contest #70 in response to: Write about a character who everyone thinks is guilty of something terrible, but isn’t.... view prompt

3 comments

Crime Fiction

Sun streams through the curtains of a small apartment in New York City; dancing on the walls and onto Mary's face. Dust flies and twirls in the air, almost as if being on a ballroom dance floor. Blue creeps from the lids of Mary's face and the sun strikes upon them making them slowly dis and reappear countless times before deciding to stay open.

Mary had work in approximately one hour; a new client. This client was like all the other clients she had worked with before; paying her to wake up early and drag herself out of bed to have a little chat about something they did or did not do.

She never asked if they did or didn't do it, because her only goal was to defend them and she didn't want to ever feel the guilt that came with knowing the truth.

She slides herself out of bed and rests her head against the edge of the mattress while her knees curl up to her chest. She was a small lady and never was looked upon as a serious business woman because of her stature. She was also young, which made people think of her even less. She had been practicing in the mirror for hours the other day, trying to make her face seem more hostile so her job would run more smoothly. After many attempts she gave up and looked at her small, yet chubby face and let out a sigh.

Coffee. That was the first thought in her day every morning. The strong black liquid that smelled like comfort and home. She got up and walked over to her small and cramped kitchen, dragging her feet in a tired manner. Grabbing a pot from her cabinet, she placed it in the sink and began to fill it with water. She then carefully placed the pot onto the stove, making sure it was centered perfectly. She turned the knob to high and then leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

Her home was small and quaint on the outstretches of the Bronx. She couldn't afford much with her pay being so little. The place which she lived was a one room apartment with a small bathroom attached on the side. She had tried her best to add a modern and light feeling touch to the space, but it still ended up feeling cramped.

She heard bubbles rushing over and over again in her ear and remembered the water she had put on the stove. She got out her French press and placed coffee grounds into the body of its container. She then took the water off the stove and poured it into her French press. She had been doing this for so long, she needn't worry that water would spill, for she had perfected it.

She got her plunger and slowly pushed it down, letting the coffee grounds and water brew together. After waiting quite a while with her thoughts she took the plunger out and put her coffee into a mug that said; Number 1 Best Dad.

When the coffee finally touched her lips, a smile set on her face. The first and last smile of the day. She felt the warmth go through her whole body and may have even touched a part of her soul. The smile lasted only a moment more when she realized work was among her and she still was in her PJ's.

She walked a little more brisker than before and headed for her dresser in her so called bedroom. Each drawer had a different type of clothes, neatly and thoughtfully folded by herself. She picks out a white sweater and some khakis. She decides she is too lazy to switch up her underwear and bra, so she leaves them carelessly on while changing up her shirt and pants.

Tying her hair up in a bun like everyday, she then goes to put her earrings in; hoop earrings to be exact. She gives herself a work of art onto her canvas of a face and then looks in the mirror. She didn't consider herself the most attractive woman in the world, but she had enough self confidence to admit she was pretty. But pretty didn't cut it in the workplace she worked in. If people in her office were to give a word to describe her, it would be cute. And cute just gives her another underhand in the field of work she carelessly decided to go into while picking her college courses, that would unknowingly determine her future. She sometimes wonders if she was a little more ugly then maybe people would take her more seriously. It was better than cute.

She gives out another sigh into the mirror, almost like everyday, and picks herself up and grabs her bag to go out the door; forgetting to finish the rest of her number 1 dad coffee.

---

On her way to the building, the air from her mouth appeared in the cold Antarctica of a place. New York was a constant North Pole in the winter. She was starting to wish she had grabbed her longer khakis, for the ones she was wearing now showed her ankles and frost bitten ankles would only make Jack Frost laugh in her misery.

She opened the doors to the building and let out a sigh of relief as warmth spread all around her and her ankles were ever so grateful. She walked up to the counter and showed her ID.

"I'm here to see Robert Smith," Mary says with a not so gleeful face.

The woman at the counter takes her ID, "Yes," hands it back to her and stands up. "Come this way."

They walk through a series of hallways that she had been through countless of times, finally getting to the door where the man she was going to meet would be.

They walk in and the woman asks if Mary needs anything else and Mary shakes her head and thanks her for walking her here. The woman then leaves the room, leaving Robert and Mary alone to finally discuss the issue that had been on her mind sense morning.

"Hello," Mary says with a monotone voice.

"Hi," he keeps his head looking at his hands on the iron table between them.

"I'm your lawyer," Mary says while sitting down, hoping to get a reaction from that.

He keeps his head down.

Mary turns her head to look at the guard in the room with them. "Can you please take those cuffs off of him?"

"But ma'am he's required to have them on at all times, it's protocol," the officer looks back at her sternly.

This is where she hoped the hours of looking in the mirror would come through. She gives the officer a dirty look and says "I would like to speak to my client without those ridiculous things on him. We are all human and I would like to speak to him as if he is one."

The room goes silent and he looks at her for what seems like forever and then goes over and places the key in the cuffs of the man and lets his hands free.

"Thank you," she says not so thankfully.

The guard steps back to his corner of the room, leaving the conversation to continue in a steady pace between Robert and Mary.

"I've looked over your files and you are pleading innocent in not killing your boss.."

He looks up at Mary with the brownest and deepest eyes she has ever seen and says "yes," then moves his hands around.

"Okay, it says here that you were the last to leave the building that night and that you had been having issues with him for the last couple of months," Mary says looking at the papers then at him.

"I did not kill him." He looks at her again madly but then shyly puts his head back down.

"Okay," she says leaving silence in the air until Robert speaks again.

He looks up at her confused and then looks back at his hands. Minutes pass as the two do not say a word and Mary was not going to let a word slip from her mouth.

He finally gives in and speaks, "I swear I did not kill that man, I did leave the office a little later than some people had, but I would never kill someone" He pauses and takes a breath. "I have a daughter named Lydia and her birthday is coming up and I wanted a little extra money so I could buy my little girl something special for her birthday this year, so I stayed a little later in the office." He says while slowly shifting in his chair, tears filling in his eyes.

Mary had come prepared for this like she comes prepared for everything. She takes out a small mini pack of tissues from her bag and hands it to the man sitting in front of her. He takes it and opens it up and wipes his eyes with the tissues, making sure to catch every tear.

"Who else do you think it could be?" Mary asks.

"Tom and Sharon had also stayed after with me, but I had left last and was seen coming from the direction of my bosses office on the way out...My finger prints are on his body the detective says, but this all a setup I swear.." Robert had been looking everywhere but Mary's eyes for that whole time except for the last part; "I swear.."

"Why do you say that?" Mary looks right back at Robert.

"Tom really wanted the promotion that was either going to be handed to me or him. I had been staying later and the only reason I was having problems with the boss is because he was seeming more keen to Tom." Mary gives him a look. "I know, I know, it seems like that would make more sense for me to kill him, but by the end of the months passing, the boss was having more of an interest in me.."

"I see," Mary said, saying only that so Robert would continue.

"I don't know what happened, but Tom had told me to wait for him in front of the water fountains to discuss something important about work. I waited for him to show up but he never did. The water fountains were in the direction of the bosses office. When he never showed up, I left the building to go home to see my family."

"Hm." Mary knew all this information already. It was in the file she had been given about the case and he had been questioned by the police a couple days ago. Mary had been only assigned to the case yesterday. She really wished he would have waited to get a lawyer before answering the polices questions, but he answered their questions anyway, so now she had to go off of this.

"I really think he set me up. I don't know why, but he did." He said, looking Mary in the eyes once more.

"Okay," Mary said standing up.

"Hey, where are you going?" Robert said frantically.

"I'm going to work on the case," She said while the guard opened the door for her.

"Well what are you going to do exactly?" He said in a worried tone, while shuffling in his seat.

"My job," she said while walking out: Helping people get away with murder.

November 29, 2020 03:39

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3 comments

03:16 Dec 10, 2020

The self doubt in the post publication is confirmed! Mature understanding of the prompt is needed before attempting to blog a story. English needs to improve. Terms like 'brisker' are not appropriate.CRITIQUE CIRCLE

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13:24 Dec 10, 2020

Thank you for the comment and critique! I will work to approve my writing ability, because that is the reason I joined Reedsy. I am a sophomore in high school, so my writing skills are narrow. I really appreciate that you took the time to give advice and criticism!

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23:39 Dec 05, 2020

I don't know if it really goes with the prompt, but it is what is..!

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