3 Can You Picture This? Read Free

to, “Well, I…‌I…”
    “Sam, spit it out,” George said, all business now.
    “I think I lost it.”
    “Lost it?” His face showed his disbelief. He wasn’t too upset. He hadn’t noticed yet that it was a Polaroid camera. “Well, it’s still on the camera, right?”
    I looked at the camera. Richie looked at the camera. George looked at the camera.
    “What in the hell are you doing using this kind of camera, Richie? Haven’t you ever heard of digital? And, Sam, why in the hell would you be so careless as to lose the only picture of the so-called crime?”
    “So-called crime? You don’t believe us? Just because it’s going to be easier on you to pretend it didn’t happen, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Richie and I both saw the picture. We have it in our brains. You might want to have someone interview us separately about what we saw.”
    “Don’t tell me how to do my job!”
    Now his voice was raised and his face was red. Because he was losing his hair, I could see the redness all over his head. I didn’t think I’d ever seen George this angry since we had started dating. He was usually sweet and very understanding of my sometimes ditzy ways.
    More quietly George added, “We do have to take a statement though. It’s policy.
    Ignoring his last comment, I stood. “C’mon, Richie,” I said, trying to sound dignified. “Let’s go solve this one ourselves.”

THREE
    T he thing that really made me mad was that George didn’t try to stop us. The only thing in his favor was that when I looked back at him, he wasn’t laughing. When Richie and I got outside the police station, my phone whistled, signifying an incoming text.
    I stopped to read it. Richie stopped a few steps ahead. “It’s from George,” I whispered to myself, happy that he was going to apologize.
    Instead, the text said, “I love you. See you tonight.”
    See you tonight? After he practically called me a liar. Yeah, right. Then another whistle. “You’re right. There I said it. Please come back in so we can get a description of the picture you saw.”
    What a guy. Not afraid to say he was wrong. It would be hard for me to do, but he didn’t have all the “quirks” I had. Maybe eventually some of his more positive characteristics would rub off on me.
    I said to Richie, “George wants us to come back in and describe what we saw.” There was a look of satisfaction on my face that I wasn’t proud of. So I promised myself I wouldn’t gloat when I saw George.
    As Richie and I walked back into the station, I literally ran into George rushing out.
    Over his shoulder he said, “Sorry. Just got a call. Have to go. Officer Darling will talk to you.”
    I couldn’t be mad at George, even though it would have been fun to be able to feel superior for a moment. And even though Rob was a “lowly” newbie, it was cool of George to have my brother be the one to interview us.
    The receptionist buzzed us through and Rob met us on the other side of the door.
    Right away, I said, “You just left. What happened?”
    “Oh, Jimmy just wanted to talk to me about something. I came in by the back way.” He motioned for Richie to take a seat in the hall and he ushered me into an interrogation room. It was a stereotypical interview room. Not much different than the ones on TV—metal table and cinderblock walls. Ugly and cold.
    “I thought I’d interview you first, because you’re older and more likely to forget what you saw.”
    I was ready to punch his cute face, but then I noticed the grin. My baby brother was teasing me. And he sure knew how to get to me. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Let’s get this over with while I still remember.”
    “Why don’t you just tell me what happened,” Rob said as he turned on a digital recorder. “Is it okay if I tape this?”
    I nodded, and then realizing that it was an audio recording, said, “Yes,” too. Then I began.
    “This morning I ran into Richie. He startled me by taking a flash