The Love Of Money - S02 E190

Story 1 month ago

The Love Of Money - S02 E190

Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 190

Friday, September 27th, 3:19 pm

“Will I be arrested?”

Knowing I couldn’t trust his words, I glanced at the officer escorting me to my study, looking for any sign of an answer on his face.

“No, sir,” the officer said, stopping in front of the dark wood panels. “Detective Reynolds just wants to ask you a few questions.”

And then he opened one of the doors to the study.

My study.

A sickening sensation roiled in the pit of my stomach as I stepped inside, looking around an empty, ransacked room.

No. ‘Ransacked’ wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t like my apartment when that Cartwright guy had torn it apart. That was ransacked. This was done with more precision— cushions were neatly placed to the side of their couch, books were stacked in even towers on the floor, and artifacts had been removed from their cases and then replaced in slightly different configurations.

My study had been the target of a surgical and professional search.

“Sorry about the mess,” a voice said behind me.

I turned to see Reynolds standing in the doorway, his eyes watching me with that same casual gaze I’d seen when we first met.

“You gonna put the books back on the shelves?” I asked.

“No,” he said and stepped into the room. The officer closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone. “Our time is valuable.”

“And mine isn’t?” I muttered, glancing back around at the mess. Even the drawers to my desk had been removed and sat in a neat little stack next to a tripod holding a camera.

Reynolds walked past me to sit in my chair, offering me a seat usually reserved for guests. The message wasn’t exactly subtle—he was in charge.

“To be fair,” he continued, “The force has come a long way. Fifteen years ago, you would have had your couch cushions slashed and your desk overturned. We’ve adopted more civilized methods since then.”

I took a seat. “Thanks for saving me the headache then, I guess.”

He leaned his elbows on my desk and folded his hands in front of him. “Right. I suppose now isn’t the best time to buy new furniture.”

The subtle jab at my current financial troubles didn’t go unnoticed.

Reynolds grabbed a small remote and pointed it at the camera on the tripod. “Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Upton… I just have a few questions.”

“Happy to answer them,” I said, trying to cover up my nervousness.

“Bobbi Nanford,” he said. “How long have you known her?”

“Uh… a little over a year.”

“And where did you meet?”

“We worked together at my last job. Marduke.”

“What was your first impression of her?”

I glanced at the camera and then back at Reynolds, wondering if he’d recorded his interview with Bobbi. He had to have talked to her by now, and what worried me was that I would incriminate myself as soon as I opened my mouth—either by lying when she told the truth, or telling the truth when she lied.

None of us had a chance to speak to each other alone before we were divided. There hadn’t been time to coordinate anything.

The moment Reynolds got off the elevator and entered my living room, he gave us a warrant explicitly stating that he had the authority to search for evidence that I had trafficked or coerced Bobbi into a relationship she didn’t want to be in. Since there wasn’t much I could do, I cooperated; the first thing he did was separate us into different rooms.

It had been roughly forty minutes since I’d been escorted to the dining room to be babysat by one of New York’s finest—just enough time for Reynolds’ men to search my study while he had a long talk with Bobbi.

Since I didn’t know what she’d told him, I opted for as much honesty as possible without incriminating myself.

I shrugged. “She was a bitch.”

Reynolds had just started taking notes and glanced up at me as his pen grew still. He arched an eyebrow. “Strong words.”

“They were strong feelings,” I admitted. “I wasn’t alone, either. Almost everyone in that office hated her.”

He looked back down at his notebook and began scribbling again.

I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Sorry, but what is this really about?”

“I told you. We’re here to do a wellness check on Barbara Nanford.”

“You were just here a week ago, asking me about Rajesh Desai.”

“Your point?” he said without looking at me.

“I’m just wondering if this is really about Bobbi.”

“It’s what it says on the warrant.”

“Have you talked to her?” I couldn’t help asking the question.

He finally looked up from his pad, studying me for five whole seconds.

“I did,” he said.

“So… either she told you that I’m some kind of monster, and you can arrest me, or she told you that there’s nothing weird going on and you can leave, right?”

“It’s not that simple.” He laid his pen down and stood, looking around the room as he placed his hands on his lower back and arched it a little. It made him look at ease, which I assumed was the point. “Testimonies from women in Barbara’s situation only go so far. We look for any other signs that might help tell the whole story.”

He looked back at me. “Barb’s been painting me one heck of a picture, Mr. Upton.”

It was all I could do not to vomit. I imagined Bobbi in an interrogation room spilling the entire scenario—how we came to this little arrangement, the night before she moved in… the whole ordeal with Astrid. I could feel the walls closing in around me and was desperately racking my brain for any way out of this.

Could Reynolds be bought off?

I eyed him, trying to assess whether or not he was one of those crusader types who would weaponize an attempt at bribery. 

Or… he could be in Hiro Tanaka’s pocket. Showing up minutes after our conversation seemed a little too coincidental.

Either way… offering a bribe was too much of a risk.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound like I didn’t care. “If she’s told you everything, then why do you need evidence? Just arrest me and get it over with.”

He sat on the corner of the desk nearest me, looking relaxed while also able to stare down his nose. “Like I said, Mr. Upton. Due diligence.”

Glancing at the phone in my hand, he nodded to it. “Speaking of which, mind handing over your phone?”

He held out his hand expectantly, and I started to hand it to him out of pure instinct. Then I stopped myself—there were texts from Bobbi on my phone… from early on in our relationship. They weren’t the kinds of texts that I wanted someone like Reynolds to see.

There were also pictures to consider. A lot of pictures.

Hell… my phone held a buffet of things that could make even an open-minded person draw certain insinuations about the nature of my relationship with Bobbi.

I slid my phone in my pants pocket. “No thanks.”

“Need I remind you, Mr. Upton, that we have a warrant for this search?”

“Does that include my phone?” I pushed back.

“It extends to anything to do with Barbara Nanford.”

“My phone has nothing to do with ‘Barbara’ Nanford.”

Reynolds smirked. “I think I’ll be the judge of that. Not sure why you wouldn’t want to cooperate, unless there’s something on that phone you don’t want me to see.”

“Dick pics,” I said. “I took them for my girlfriend, but you know how it goes… you send it and forget it. They’re all still on my phone, and I’m shy.”

“Oh,” he said, not sounding like he particularly believed me. “I don’t mind.”

“I want to speak to Helen VanCamp—my attorney.”

“You sure that’s necessary, Mr. Upton? I’m not here to arrest you. I’m not charging you with anything. You get a lawyer involved now, and it just makes you look guilty.”

“Are you refusing me my right to legal representation?”

Reynolds held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy. I’m just trying to help you out with optics. You want to play hardball, though, then that’s on you.”

He slid off the desk but hesitated. “Last chance to fully cooperate, Mr. Upton.”

“Lawyer.”

“Fine,” Reynolds huffed and headed for the door. I simply stared at my desk, listening to him retreat. The door opened. Then shut.