An American Crime Mystery Series
Hawk Theriot & Kristi Blocker Short Stories by Jim Riley
Series Excerpt
Hawk eyed the stubble-faced man in the wrinkled clothes that smelled of tobacco and alcohol.
“Dwayne, thanks for seeing me.”
“You’re welcome. I heard you were asking questions about Gramps’s death. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to ask you about your grandfather.”
Dwayne took a sip from the glass of brown liquid.
“I don’t see how anything I know will help you, but come on in.”
Hawk sat in one of the three chairs in the sparsely decorated den. It's covering was torn and dirty and one leg was shorter than the other three. The walls were unadorned and a moldy smell permeated throughout the room.
Dwayne was fidgeting in his chair.
“Is this going to take long? I have an appointment I need to go to soon.”
“No problem. I’ll hurry as fast as I can.”
“Ask away.”
“First, I’d like to get some background information on you?”
Dwayne took another swig.
“Why? Gramps died, not me.”
“Just so we can be thorough in our investigation. You don’t mind answering a few questions about yourself, do you?”
The dingy man hesitated before answering. “I suppose not.”
“What is your occupation?”
Dwayne paused. “I’m a consultant.”
“What area of consulting?”
“You could call it financial.”
Hawk stared at the disheveled across from him.
“It’s not about what I would call it. It’s about what you do for a living.”
“Okay. I’m a financial consultant.”
“Who are your clients?”
“They vary.”
“Where's your office?”
Dwayne looked around the sparse room. “I work out of my home. I’m an independent consultant.”
“Is that how you support yourself?”
“I manage to get by.”
Hawk pulled out a sheet of papers.
“According to the IRS, you made less than five thousand dollars last year. Are you sure consulting was your primary source of income?”
Dwayne slumped even more in his chair. “You’ve already talked to my brothers, haven't you?
Hawk nodded.
“So you know I sometimes bet a nickel or two. I got lucky last year and made some decent money on the games.”
“According to your grandfather’s records, you didn’t do so well on the games either.”
“What? You’ve looked at Gramps’s bank account?”
“We try to complete a thorough investigation as I told you earlier.”
“But digging through his records like that. Is that legal?”
“I assure you it's legal. Just as my background check on you was legal.”
Dwayne slumped in his chair.
“So you know I’m not a financial consultant.”
Hawk nodded. “I am aware of that, yes.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sometimes it’s best in an interview to let the other person speak.”
“I wish you would’ve said something. Now, I’m gonna be late for my appointment.”
“I’m sure they’ll wait. Why don’t we start over? What do you do for a living?”
Dwayne sighed. “I gamble. I bet on football games, basketball games and I go to the casinos on occasion.”
“How much did you make last year gambling?”
“Look.” Dwayne threw his hands in the air. “I had a streak of bad luck. I’m just about to break out of it.”
“With your share of your grandfather’s estate?”
“I don’t need my grandfather’s money,” Dwayne glared at Hawk. “I’m doing pretty well by myself.”
Hawk looked down at his notes. “Not according to his records, you’re not.”
“Then his records must be wrong.”
“You must've forgotten. He made you sign an IOU for every dollar you borrowed. In the last year alone, you received almost two hundred thousand dollars from him.”
Dwayne emptied his glass.
“I didn’t borrow nearly that much from him. You gotta be mistaken.”
Hawk held up the notes he'd brought.
“Would you like to see the receipts with your signature on them?”
Dwayne dropped his gaze to the floor.
“It didn’t seem like two hundred thousand.” He said dismally.
“How much do you owe now?”
Dwayne checked his empty glass. “Somewhere around twenty grand.”
“Did you grandfather cut you off? Was he no longer supporting your gambling habits?”
“It wasn’t like that. Sometimes Gramps was a little slow to come around, but he always did before it got too bad.”
“Only this time he was serious. Is that right?”
Dwayne shook his head. “He was taking longer than usual. But he would’ve come up with the money soon.”
“And if he didn’t, what were you gonna do?”
“I didn’t have to worry. He always came through.”
“How much do you think you'll inherit?”
Dwayne shrugged. “I don’t know. Gramps didn’t share his financial standing with me. He might have told Brent.”
“But you do know it would have been enough to get you out of your current financial bind, don’t you?”
“I’m sure his estate would cover the little bit I owe,” Dwayne nodded. “But I didn’t kill my grandfather no matter how much money he had.”
“So where were you the night your grandfather died?”
“I was entertaining a friend here at the house.”
“Does your friend have a name?”
Dwayne stood and grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind him.
“I’m sure she does. But I don’t remember it.”
“How can I get in touch with your friend?”
“She didn’t exactly leave me her phone number, if you know what I mean?”
“I can guess.”
Dwayne sat back down and looked up at the ceiling.
“I don’t even remember where I picked her up at.”
“So you really don’t have an alibi for your whereabouts the night your grandfather died.”
He took a huge gulp straight from the bottle. “I guess not.”
“What can you tell me about the neighbor, Ira Stephens?”
Dwayne rubbed his hands through his oily hair. “Not much. Gramps didn’t like him and he didn’t like Gramps. When Gramps lived next door, Stephens was always threatening to sue him over anything he could think of. After Gramps moved in with Brent he told me Stephens was going to sue him for allowing all of those kids to mess up the neighborhood.”
“Doesn’t sound like an amicable relationship to me.”
Dwayne started slurring his words, “It wasn’t. If you’re looking for someone who wanted to kill Gramps, it was probably Stephens.”
“I’ll go by and visit with Mr. Stephens. Is there anything else you would like to tell me?”
Dwayne set the bottle on the table.
“I didn’t kill Gramps. He'd cut me off from borrowing any more from him, but I didn’t kill him.”
“Thank you for your time, Dwayne. I’ll be in touch.”
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