'Why don't you join us in the living room?' He waved his gun to
indicate that I should walk in front of him.
The bad news got worse. Tim O'Donnell was tied to my Mission-style
chair, Frank Derringer sat on my sofa with the remote control, and
Vinnie was whimpering, presumably relegated to the pantry again.
I noticed, though, that Derrick was pacing behind the sofa, and Frank
was chewing the cuticle of his right thumb.
They were nervous, and I tried to take advantage of it by faking
confidence.
'Nice to see you were enjoying a little TV. Anything good on? I try
to stay away from the reality shows myself,' I said.
Derrick wasn't amused. 'Maybe that explains why she didn't listen to
you, Tim,' he said, glancing at O'Donnell, who looked truly terrified.
'Has trouble with reality. Now, if I were you, sweetheart, I'd shut
the fuck up and have a seat.'
'Stop it, Sam.' A puddle under my Mission-style chair and spots on
O'Donnell's pants suggested that things had already gotten ugly before
my arrival. 'This is some serious shit.'
Derrick laughed at him. 'Figure it out, ass-wipe. This bitch don't
listen, not to you, not to anyone. But you had to tell us you'd handle
everything, you'd get it all taken care of. But what the fuck happens?
Nimrod here,' he said, gesturing to his little brother, 'gets his case
dismissed, and I wind up under indictment. Well, I'm through letting
you and Frankie fuck this shit up. This shit ends tonight. My way.'
'Look, I got you in just like you wanted,' O'Donnell whined. 'You said
you'd let me go if I was telling the truth about knowing her alarm
code. Let me out of here, and I won't say a word.'
All that money for my super deluxe alarm, down the drain. If I got out
of this mess, I'd be smart enough not to use the security code from
work as my home password.
Derrick laughed again. 'What are you gonna do, Tim, call a judge and
say I broke my word? This ain't some plea bargain, counselor. You
don't get to walk just 'cause you flipped on someone.'
'Jesus, Derrick, I've done everything you wanted!' O'Donnell was
practically whimpering.
'No, you did everything you wanted!' Derrick was pointing the gun at
him now. 'I thought the Zimmerman girl was behind us, and now dumb
fuck here goes and does it to some other girl, and you say you'll take
care of it again, but I'm the one who winds up getting fucked in the
ass.'
O'Donnell was blowing it. The Derringers had been showing signs of
doubts about their plans, but now Tim was getting Derrick wound up, and
Derrick was reverting to his aggressive mode. I had to find a way to
make Derrick anxious again.
'Look, Derrick,' I said, speaking very slowly. 'I don't know what's
going on between you and Tim here, but killing us will only make things
worse. There's no murder beef on you right now. You kill us, and
you're going to feel heat like you never knew before on what do you
have, a few forgeries or something? Don't do this.'
It didn't work. Now the gun was pointed at me. And Derrick was still
ranting. 'Don't you pull that shit with me. You know exactly what's
going on here, and that's the whole problem now, isn't it? You
couldn't let it alone. You got a major hard-on for this case and
couldn't let it drop. Now this dumb-fuck DA's calling me, telling me
you got a fucking indictment against me.'
I couldn't stop to figure out how O'Donnell knew about the indictment
or why he would tell the Derringers.
'Derrick, listen to me. The indictment was a bluff. Grand jurors will
indict anyone the prosecutor tells them to indict. I just wanted you
picked up so the police would talk to you about the case. I don't have
any evidence against you or your brother.' I could tell he was
beginning to tune in, so I talked a little faster.
'Here's what we're going to do. Tim, as a supervisor at the
District Attorney's Office, you are on official notice that I am hereby
resigning from my position as a deputy district attorney. Derrick,
give me some money. A dollar, whatever, and tell me you want to talk
about your legal problems. Attorney-client privilege will protect
everything you say to me, OK? Let me talk to you about this.'
Derrick was looking at me, not saying anything.
Frank couldn't keep quiet any longer. 'Derrick, give it to her,' he
said.
'Shut up, Frank,' Derrick said. 'She's full of shit, and she's gonna
die, so I don't give a shit about privilege.'
'Think about it, Derrick.' Frank was beginning to sound desperate.
'Just in case something goes wrong, the judge won't let her rat on
us.'
