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Down in the Dirt, v149
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Theft, Hope, and A Coffee Stain

Stephon Sherrod

    Agent Kelly had been hopeful for a lot of things, but never had he put so much hope in a few specs of dust. The special agent had gotten into the routine of walking into the forensics lab and asking the same question every afternoon for the past five weeks. Hazelnut latte in hand per the norm. The difference was that he got called to the lab today.
    “Kingsley, tell me you’ve got something?” Kelly said.
    The bald and bearded scientist, spun around in his desk chair, excited. “Like you wouldn’t believe, Jeff.”
    Kelly stopped in mid sip. “Is it the Rembrandt?” The coffee jerked out the cup and onto his white shirt. He didn’t notice.
    “No, but I think, and I stress think, that we’ve found the Vermeer.”
    “Adam, how sure are you?”
    “I’m about ninety-three percent positive. There is room for doubt, but it’s a small margin.”
    Without saying another word, Kelly walked to the desk, set his coffee down, and picked up the phone. After a ring or two he said, “Yes, this is Special Agent Kelly of the FBI. I need to meet with a William Youngworth. I’ll be on a plane in two hours.”

    Billy and his attorney sat in an interrogation room waiting for another agent to arrive. The light gave the room a blue hue, which matched the cold temperature of the room. The sweat under his armpits would make you think otherwise. His leg shook under the table.
    “You nervous, Mr. Youngworth?” said the attorney. A plaid-checkered tie that resembled an apple pie, hung from his neck and he wore thin framed glasses.
    “How do you expect me to do this, huh?” Billy said. His northern accent was coming through.
    “I already said I’d work with them for immunity and the reward, and now you want me to renege?” He shakes his head and put his thumbnail in his mouth.
    “It’s not going to be easy Mr. Youngworth.” The attorney placed one hand onto his shoulder. “You do this and we give you more than just five million.”
    “I know that, but how am I going to sell this one?”
    “You’re a criminal, Mr. Youngworth.”
    Billy snapped his head to the slick-haired attorney and squinted his eyes at the hand on his shoulder.
    With a chuckle, the man removed his hand from Billy’s shoulder and pushed up his glasses. “Just think of the money, Billy. You’ll do just fine.”
    As the attorney leaned back in his chair, the door opened and in walked a man in a suit with a brown spec on his shirt and took a seat.
    “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Special Agent Kelly, FBI. I’d like to take you up on that offer of immunity, Mr. Youngworth.”
    “No,” Billy said without hesitation. His shoulders flexed.
    Kelly stared at Billy, mouth slightly ajar. Billy folded his arms once more and remained as still like his volumized hair.
    He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think you heard me. We’re willing to –”
    “No I heard you,” Kelly said. “I think that you didn’t hear me. Or at least, not what you wanted to hear.”
    Kelly looked at the sketchy lawyer behind Billy and then back to him. “You do realize that there are charges against you already? That they’ll stick if you give up immunity?”
    “Yeah, but,” Billy said, shaking his head and sucked his teeth. “I’ll be out by the time you suits do anything.”
    “We were investigating the claim that the specs of dust you gave us were legitimate, because the art was no longer in your possession.”
    “I said my piece. I’m not gonna work with someone who isn’t even presentable.” Billy pointed to the stained coffee spec and snickers. “You guys are a joke. You need me and I’m not gonna work with you.”
    Kelly closed his eyes and crinkled his forehead. He felt like the trail fell through his grasp like water that flowed through rocks.
    “You are going to give up immunity, and five million dollars, because of impatience?” he asked.
    “My client is done talking for now Agent Kelly,” said the attorney. He stood up, pushed up his glasses, and patted Billy on his shoulder once more. “You’ve done enough Mr. Youngworth. Our business is done.”
    Billy tensed his shoulders at his touch. The agent’s eyes traveled back and forth between the two men, perplexed. Billy took a swift breath and then got up from his chair. The screech of the metal chair echoed in the room. The attorney patted Billy on the back as a gesture of “good job Billy, good job.” The two exited the room, Billy’s posture was relaxed and had a swagger about it. Kelly remained with fingers clasped and faced toward the smooth wall of the interrogation room.
    As the two left the room, the attorney, with hand still on shoulder, said, “That went well, Mr. Youngworth. Just stick to that and we’ll hold up our end.”



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