Character: Jack Dawson
Fandom: Original character, original world
Rating: PG
Word Count: 790
Prompt: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me... and won't get fooled again.
a_muse_meme vol1.week28
He was lying. I’d been reading people for so long, especially the guilty, that it was easy to see. The corners of his eyes tightened, and he made eye contact with me for a fraction of a second too long. Neither of his hands twitched. He held his body perfectly still while he told me what he’d been doing when the murder had happened. He was good at lying, but I was better at it.
“Let’s go over this again,” I said calmly, leaning back in my desk chair. The bright San Diego sunlight was streaming through the windows, showering my new client in dust motes and light. I hadn’t bothered to write any of his story down. It was nearly word for word what he’d told the cops. It was all bullshit.
“Again?” Now I got a reaction out of him. The corner of his lip pulled up just a fraction of an inch while he fought off a sneer. “I’m getting fucking sick of telling this story, Dawson. I’m not paying you to listen to me tell my alibi over and over again. You’ve got the official report, and I’ve already told you twice.”
“You’ll tell your story to me again, because that is exactly why you’re paying me.” I got up from the desk, sliding the chair back with a gentle push. Walking over to the wet bar, I poured myself a cold glass of Coke and brought him a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Settling back, I sat on the edge of my desk while he drained half of his drink. I took a sip of mine, just enough for the bubbles to tickle my nose. “You’re paying me to make sure the DA and the cops don’t poke anymore holes in your alibi, Mr. Sheppard.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m telling the truth.”
I looked down my nose at him this time looking him straight in the eyes forcing him to look away. “I don’t care either way. I don’t care if you did beat that woman to death. You’re my client, and it’s my job to keep you out of prison.”
“You don’t care, huh.” He tossed back the rest of his drink, and got up fast nearly knocking over his chair. He carried the empty glass with him, the sunlight twinkled in the ice cubes as he paced to the window. He was a tall man, and I could see the powerful muscles in his arms and legs as he moved. “What if I told you I did it? Would you care then? Would you care if I told you what it felt like to have her blood splatter into my eyes while I did it? What if I told you it’d be fun to do the same thing to you in your pretty office?”
“No, I still wouldn’t care.” I took a long slow drink of my Coke, watching him as he moved about my office like a caged tiger. When he turned back to glare at me, I was adjusting the sleeve of my shirt making sure it peeked out just right from the cuff of my jacket. “Mr. Sheppard, I don’t care if it was a one time thing, a crime of passion, a crime of revenge, or if you’re a serial killer. Defending you is my job. Defending people like you is why I’ve got this pretty office, and how I can pay for my pretty penthouse. Now if you’re finished trying to intimidate me, lets get back to work on your case.”
“Put me on the stand. I can make them believe me,” he said as he grudgingly dropped back into his seat.
“Now that is something I do care about, Mr. Sheppard. You will not be taking the stand. You’re a shitty liar.” Reaching over I took his empty glass from him and put it back on the bar. “Your alibi isn’t bad, but we’ll need something else to cast doubt. Tell me about Cassandra, Mr. Sheppard. Tell me why you killed her, and who else might have done it.”
“Shouldn’t we just be making sure my alibi sticks?” he asked. He was finally ready to hear me. His body was relaxed, and I could taste a bit of fear from him. I was in control of the situation at last.
“That’s easy. All we have to do is pay the right people, but finding another target for the police to focus on will tip the scales of justice in our favor. So tell me all about her. Don’t leave anything out.” I sat behind my desk, pressing the button on my recorder, so I didn’t miss a thing. It was time to get to work.