Los Bastardos
Los Bastardos
The bastards got to the train station at exactly three-seventeen, their watches all coordinated and synch-ro-nized. They call themselves Los Bastardos. That was Max the Elder's idea. And the synchronized watches. Max the Elder is really the middle child and Sven the Younger is really the oldest. I’m the youngest really.
“And who are you supposed to be?” Detective Steven Lowery asked with a wry tone.
I’m Gary.
“Alright, Mr. Sheridan, please continue,” said Detective Lowery, obviously disappointed by the shackled man’s response.
This whole caper was Max the Elder's idea. He insists on calling them fuckin’ capers. I sez to him, aren't those the salty ball things you put on fish. He sez, you don't have to just put that shit on fish, you can put them on salads or…
"Can you skip the culinary lesson and get back to what happened?" Detective Lowery interrupted.
Yeah, yeah. So we get to the train station. I was early, by the way. I got there at three-oh-six.
"What do you want, a medal?" Detective Lowery said.
Just sayin'. So, I go get a Mello Yello. I wasn't gonna get a Mello Yello but they had them in the machine. You know how hard it is to find a Mello Yello in a fuckin’ machine?
"You wanna watch your language, please? There’s a lady present," Detective Lowery said. Gary scanned the small room as if another human being could possibly be present but not obviously recognizable.
Oh, sorry. Where is she?
"Behind the mirror," Detective Lowery said with a thumb poking behind him.
Can she see me?
"She can see and hear you," Detective Lowery said.
Sorry, ma’am. Are you recording this or somethin’?
"See that camera there, with the red light? Yeah, we're recording this," Detective Lowery said.
Hey, is that even legal?
"You've been arrested. Yeah, it's legal. Continue." Detective Lowery said.
Should I have a lawyer bein' in here? Or a attorney? What's the difference between a lawyer and a attorney anyway?
Detective Lowery looked at Mr. Sheridan for several uncomfortable seconds. "Huh. I don't know," he said finally. "What's the difference between a lawyer and an attorney? Anyone?" He said this to the air seemingly, not to Gary. The room was silent as Gary examined the handcuffs the police department had so generously provided him and the small chain that went from one to the other, snaking itself through a steel loop bolted onto the table.
"Attorneys are lawyers that have passed the bar exam and can represent a client in court," said a disembodied female voice from a small speaker in the ceiling.
"Thanks Courtney," Detective Lowery said to the air again. He turned to Gary. "You want an attorney?"
Can I have somethin' to drink, man?
"Okay, what would you like?" Detective Lowery asked impatiently, wanting to get his interrogation back on track.
I'd love a…
"No Mello Yello, we don't have it," Detective Lowery interrupted.
Alright, coffee then.
"Cream and sugar?"
I take it black, like my idiot brother, Max the Elder.
"Got it." The voice of Officer Courtney DeSalva came over the speaker again.
"Your brother Max is black and you're white?” Detective Lowery said.
No, he white. But there's a blackness in his heart, man. Fuckin’ dark, black shit in there. That boy ain't right. Do you want to hear a joke? It's a blonde joke.
"No. Please continue with the train station." Detective Lowery said.
One blonde sez to the other, "Can I borrow five pounds?" This a English joke. It takes place in England.
Detective Lowery rubbed his temples.
And the other blonde sez, "If you can take it off my thighs you can have it.” Get it?
Detective Lowery looked up at the ceiling while Gary Sheridan chuckled. “What difference does it make if they’re blonde?” he said begrudgingly, letting himself be sidetracked for the moment.
Well… not quite sure ‘bout that but I got another one, but it ain't no blonde joke. What do you get if you vacuum up all the sand in the desert?
"Mr. Sheridan, can we please get back to the events on the train?" Detective Lowery growls.
Sure, sure, whatever you want.
"Thank you." Detective Lowery looks through Gary’s file and clears his throat.
Just then, a crackling male voice came over the speaker, "What do you get?"
You got yourself a whole lot of fuckin’ sand!
Mr. Sheridan said this with a xylophone smile directly at the large mirror as Detective Lowery rubbed his temples again.
Officer Courtney DeSalva entered the room with a styrofoam cup of black coffee and placed it on the desk in front of Gary Sheridan. “Thank you, Officer,” Detective Lowery said.
Thankya, darlin’.
Gary said this with a wink. Officer DeSalva smiled at the two men and exited the interrogation room. Mr. Sheridan then turned to Detective Lowery, mouth agape.
Dayum, dude, she’s hotter’n a peach pie just out the oven. Why din’t you tell me she was back there? You hittin’ that, ain’t ya? I bet you hittin’ that!
“Mr. Sheridan, please stay on topic. What happened after you arrived at the train station?”
Tell me you hittin’ that. Jeez Louise, carrots and peas!
“I am not… hitting that,” Detective Lowery retorts, his voice lower and slower. “Please just answer the questions.” His chair squeaked as he repositioned himself. “You get to the train station. Then what happened?” Gary discovered that by moving his right hand all the way to the steel loop, his left hand could reach the coffee cup and he had just enough slack in the chain to take a sip.
Aaahhh.
Detective Lowery waited as Gary took a few more sips.
Listen, officer…
“It’s Detective,” Detective Lowery interrupted.
Scuse me, Detective. Listen, I was just parked outside the train station, mindin' my own bidness, enjoying some tunes on the radio, when your people come over and slap cuffs on me and take me in here.
“C’mon, Mr. Sheridan. Remember our deal? You tell us what happened on the train and we may go lightly on you. Remember?
All’s I know is you don’t have much to go on. I ain’t gonna come in here and start squealing like a pig. Also, this fuckin’ coffee tastes like shit.
“Mr. Sheridan, I’ve warned you once already about foul language.”
Oh, shit. Sorry, ma’am.
Mr. Sheridan looked up at the two-way mirror and attempted to salute the occupants in the adjacent room with his coffee cup, but the chain snagged and coffee spilled onto the table.
Dammit.
“Got it,” Officer Courtney DeSalva chimed in through the speaker.
“I’m afraid to inform you, Mr. Sheridan,” Detective Lowery stated, “that we have confiscated a certain notebook, in which someone graciously detailed the entire operation of your… caper, with drawings and diagrams, names and locations, even a nice, little passage stating the victim as, quote, the rich bitch, unquote.”
Fuckin’ notebook, damn it, I mean frickin’ notebook. Max is such a dang idiot.
“You want to tell me the real reason you were at the train station?” At that moment, Officer Courtney DeSalva came in with a dirty hand towel, another styrofoam cup of coffee, and a straw. She placed the new cup in front of Gary and put the straw into it, then wiped up the coffee spill with the towel.
Thankya, ma’am. You’re the best thing about this dern place. Sorry about my language before.
“It’s okay,” Officer DeSalva said with a maternal smile, and took the old coffee cup with her as she left. Gary opened his mouth to speak when the door was closed.
“Don’t say it,” Detective Lowery warned. The two men sat in silence for a minute. “The train station.”
Alright, alright. We was there to rob Miss Pennbroke of her… goddern necklace and any money she had on her. Max the Elder said that necklace was worth a million dollars. Split three ways, I’d get about thirty grand easy. Max is gonna kill me for tellin’ you all this.
“Okay. And how did you know she would be wearing an expensive necklace?”
Friend of Max delivers for her over in East Rock. He heard her talking ‘bout that necklace over the phone with someone. She was gonna wear it down to Charlotte today. She got a mother down there.
Detective Lowery was pleased to hear Mr. Sheridan had begun getting to the heart of the matter. “What’s the friend’s full name, please?”
Shit, I ain’t know nothing ‘bout that. Bobby the Rat is all I know him by. You gotta get that from one of the Bastardos.
“You aren’t part of Los Bastardos yourself?” Detective Lowery asked with a smirk.
Sheeeyit, I mean technically I am, and I thought it was a good idea at the time, but I ain’t into that sh... crap no more.
“Okay, so Bobby the Rat told Max what train Mrs. Pembroke was taking and what day she was traveling?” Gary leaned over and sucked some coffee through the straw before answering.
I guess so. All’s I know is what Max the Elder told me. I don’t deal with Bobby much ‘cept for him getting me… stuff. Max the Elder tells me and Sven the Younger the plan and that’s the way it goes. Listen, can I go now?
“You were arrested for your part in the commission of a crime. You can’t just go. Do you realize… ‘Max’ nearly decapitated Mrs. Pembroke trying to take off that necklace? And ‘Sven’ nearly tore her arm off grabbing her handbag. This is serious stuff, Mr. Sheridan. I advise you to take it seriously.” Detective Lowery paused to let that sink in but Mr. Sheridan was preoccupied picking the dead skin from a blister on his palm.
I’m serus. I'm serus as hell, man. But I don’t see why I gotta be up here in handcuffs when Max and Sven did all the robbin’ and shit.
Gary takes another hit of coffee through the straw and grimaces. He looks up at the mirror behind Detective Lowery.
Courtney, you fine as hell but you need to learn how to make coffee girl.
Despite what he just said, Gary draws some more coffee up the straw and swallows noisily.
Dude, I need to pee.
Detective Lowery sighs and both men wait for a response from the other room. After a few moments, a less enthused “Got it” comes over the speaker from Officer Courtney DeSalva.
“No, Courtney. Send Officer Peters in,” Detective Lowery said and both men waited again. Officer Bryan Peters entered the interrogation room. He was a big man. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt stretched to their limit with overlabored biceps and triceps. He had on mirrored aviator sunglasses and black nitrile gloves, and had a toothpick between clenched teeth. He released Gary’s handcuffs from the table but locked them again behind the smaller man’s back.
How my s’posed to pee like this?
“You’ll find out,” Officer Peters said, and he led the arrestee out of the room. After the door was closed, Detective Lowery half-turned around, looked into the one-way glass, and shook his head slowly.
As the two men entered the interrogation room some minutes later, Detective Lowery noticed Gary’s manner and posture had changed. He walked more upright now and his eyes seemed clearer. Officer Peters re-attached the handcuffs to the steel loop on the table.
Is this quite necessary?
Gary said this with a pseudo European accent of unknown origin, jangling the short chain. Detective Lowery finished writing a note in the suspect’s file. “Why, yes it is, Mr. Sheridan. It’s quite necessary,” he said, with a little mocking lilt on the word ‘quite’.
Well, I think this is absolutely horrendous bringing me in here like this with no just cause.
Detective Lowery sighed, knowing he had to get this all down in the official record. “Can you please state your full name.”
Max the Elder. What’s it to you?
“You’ve been arrested for assault and attempted robbery. Do you want to tell me why you were on the Amtrak at New Haven Union Station heading to Charlotte, North Carolina this morning?” Detective Lowery asked.
Oh. Well. If that’s all you need to know. My brothers and I decided to take a rail trip. Sven the Younger has never ridden on a train, you see. We, uh, have a, uh, family member down there. Just a short visit, see the lay of the land and all that.
“Okay. What can you tell me about Mrs. Daphne Pembroke?”
And who might that be?
“The woman you were, uh, meeting with when you were arrested.”
Ohhhh. Her. She was a little upset with me for stepping on her foot or something silly like that. I tried to calm her down but she began punching me about the face and chest. Crazy old woman.
“I see. And what about her necklace?”
I believe my hand got all caught up in it during the kerfuffle. She pushed me and we both fell to the floor of the car. The damned necklace must have come loose at that time.
“And ended up in your pocket?”
Well, who’s to contradict the nature of physics and serendipity?
“Mr. Sheridan…” Detective Lowery started.
Please address me as Max the Elder.
“Mr. Sheridan, as I said to Gary, we have your notebook. And I think you know what’s in the notebook I’m talking about.” Max the Elder glared at the detective with an imposing seriousness. They both locked eyes for half a minute. Then, quite abruptly, Max broke the tension and spoke somewhat jovially.
Ah, right then. I suppose I should “lawyer up” as you Yanks say. Sven the Younger is my attorney. We can just keep everything in the family.
“You know, things would be a lot easier if you would sign the confession. You might even get a more lenient sentence,” Detective Lowery explained.
I will sign no such document because I’ve committed no crime. I demand you release me at once.
Detective Lowery sighed. “DeSalva, Peters, please take Mr. Sheridan to holding.” The two officers entered the room. Peters unshackled and reshackled the suspect and led him out. “DeSalva?”
“Yes, Detective?”
“Let me know when Sven the Younger shows up.”
“Will do.”
Seventy-three minutes later, Detective Lowery was back inside the interrogation room with Sven the Younger who had walked in displaying a noticeable limp and was subsequently handcuffed to the steel loop on the table. “Please state your name for the records.”
I am known in these parts as Sven the Younger. But you can call me Vinnie. Do you usually handcuff a client’s attorney? By the way, the lady constable out there is quite fetching.
Sven the Younger said this with another unrecognizable accent, followed by a wink. “Mr. Sheridan, you’ve been arrested for assault and attempted robbery, as I’m sure your ‘brothers’ have informed you. Are you familiar with a certain Bobby the Rat?”
Bobby is a no-good, filthy weasel of a man over in Westville. He supplies the university students and staff with… um, recreational amenities. What’s he got to do with any of this?
“Do you know Bobby’s full name?”
Can’t say that I do, however I’ve heard some of the kids call him Bobby G. There you go.
“Can you run through the details at the train station this morning? Why you were there, what you saw, what you did.” Detective Lowery knew this was pointless but he needed to get some kind of statement for the file.
Detective, I really don’t have time for all this nonsense. I have a ton of work to do and I need to meet with my clients. So, if you could unshackle this contraption, I will be on my way.
Detective Lowery sighed and closed his folder. He lifted an arm in the air and pointed to Mr. Sheridan. A few moments later Officers DeSalva and Peters came in. After Officer Peters led Sven the Younger into the hallway, Detective Lowery spoke to Officer DeSalva. “When Gary makes an appearance again, take him to Psych and transfer the files.” He handed DeSalva his casework folder.
“Got it,” she said and exited the room.
Lowery removed the memory card from the camera and sat down and was deep in thought about something. When that something re-entered the interrogation room he was almost visibly startled.
“Hey, a couple of us are going to grab a bite at Adriana’s after shift. You wanna come?” Officer Courtney DeSalva said from the door. “Sevenish?”
“Who is ‘a couple of us’?” Detective Lowery asked.
“Counting you and me, um… you and me.” Detective Lowery had a blank look on his face as he did the math.
“Oh,” he said, now understanding the implication. “No, yeah. That sounds great. Love to.”
“Cool,” DeSalva said and turned to leave.
“Hey, Courtney,” Lowery said, interrupting her exit. She turned back, eyebrows raised. “You make fine coffee.” She beamed him back a smile so bright you could read an arrest warrant by it.