Domestic Disturbance



  Domestic Disturbance

  Written by P.J. Lowry

  Copyright 2013 P.J. Lowry

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  The two men sat there for at least a half hour, not saying anything. They were both professionals, which meant they both knew there was no need to fill the air with bullshit. It was this mutual respect for one another that lead to what was for the people on the other side of the glass a very long, uncomfortable silence. Both of them smoked, but neither even reached for a stick. On one side of the table, with his back to the mirror was a clean cut man wearing a suit. He was the man in charge of the situation, but he was being patient. He wasn’t dealing with a regular thug but a man who knew how this game was played. That changed everything. It was like a game of chicken and the first one to speak lost. Both of them seemed to have an infinite patience, one that was broken when someone finally knocked on the glass.

  The man sitting with his back to the wall smiled. He was wearing a black t-shirt with blue jeans and had his hands cuffed behind his back. He was willing to wait forever but he could tell the silence was upsetting someone. “Sounds like the Captain’s back there.”

  The other man paused for a moment and grinned. “He was never very patient. You know that as well as I do, Max.”

  Max just relaxed and continued to grin. “If everyone had it, then it wouldn’t be a virtue Detective Jones.”

  Jones grinned. “That’s not a problem for you, is it Max?”

  “Of course not.” Max replied as he held his hands up. “I’m just not used to playing on this side of the board.”

  “What do you mean?” Jones inquired.

  “I mean an interrogation is just like Chess.” Max answered.

  “How so?” Jones asked.

  Max smiled. “White goes first.”

  Jones sat up. “This isn’t a game, Max. You’re here because you killed a man.”

  “Yes, I killed him.” Max confirmed. “But I don’t think this piece of turd was much of a man.”

  “So you admit it?” Jones asked, somewhat surprised.

  “Of course I do.” Max said as he grinned. “I put two bullets in his chest and for good reason.”

  “What the hell were you doing there in the first place?” Jones asked.

  “Martha sent me a text.” Max answered.

  “And Martha is the victim’s wife?” Jones asked.

  ”No, she’s the victim.” Max corrected. “And she’s also my sister.”

  “So why didn’t you call the cops?” Jones asked.

  “Because I didn’t think it was necessary.” Max answered. “I wanted to resolve the situation without having anyone arrested.”

  “And how did that work out?” Jones asked as he gestured to his cuffs.

  “Not very well.” Max admitted.

  “That much we can agree on.” Jones said as he stood up. “Did you know the victim had a gun?”

  “No clue.” Max replied. “Makes me glad I brought my own.”

  “Can you tell me what happened when you got there?” Jones asked.

  “I arrived around seven thirty. Martha and the kids went to the bathroom and locked the door so I could have a chance to speak with Stephen.” Max said as he became a little uncomfortable. “I asked Stephen what happened to Martha, who was sporting one hell of a shiner. He tried to give me this bullshit about her falling over and hitting something against her eye. Complete bullshit… that piece of shit punched her in the face again.”

  “So you shot him?” Jones asked.

  ”No.” Max said as he stood up in his chair. “I roughed him up, gave him a little taste of his own medicine.”

  “Then what happened?” Jones asked.

  “I gave him a little space and that’s when he pulled out a gun.” Max said as he looked towards the glass. “I didn’t even know he had one registered.”

  “He doesn’t.” Jones replied. “We found the gun underneath the couch and there’s no serial numbers on it. We think he got it off the streets.”

  “Fucker.” Max cursed as he shuffled in his chair.

  “So who shot first?” Jones asked.

  “He did, when Martha came back into the living room.” Max answered. “She startled him and he fired at her. The bullet winged her in the arm.”

  “And what happened next?” Jones asked.

  ”I used the moment of distraction to draw my own service weapon.” Max answered. “I then asked him to drop his gun.”

  “And he refused?” Jones asked.

  “He didn’t say anything.” Max answered. “But I take his attempt to shoot me as a refusal to follow instructions.”

  “And that is when you shot Stephen?” Jones assumed.

  “Yes.” Max answered. “Two shots to the torso.”

  “Nice shot, Max.” Jones said as he sat back down. “Stephen was dead before the EMT’s could make it there. He was declared at the scene.”

  “He had already shot my sister and there were two scared kids in the other room.” Max said as he recalled it as best as he could. “I had no choice… I took down a man who was a threat to everyone in the house.”

  “So basically you’re going with self defence on this?” Jones asked.

  “You bet your ass I am.” Max replied. “It was a good shooting and I’m not saying another word until either my lawyer or union rep gets here.”

  “All right.” Jones said as he took the paperwork from the table. “I’ll be back.”

  Max watched as detective Jones left the room and closed the door behind him, fully aware that Jones couldn’t ask anymore questions once he asked for his lawyer. As a member of the force, Max was well aware of how the game was played around here, but kept his cards close to his chest. He gave the boys behind the glass the show they wanted to see; a fellow officer coming clean and showing respect to his superiors. He tossed the guys a bone, something nice to chew on while keeping the real truth to himself.

  Even though it was past the kid’s bedtime, every light in the house was still on and Max knew it wasn’t a good thing. He could hear the kids crying from their rooms and there was screaming coming from the living room. Martha had sent him a text message. He was drunk, which was when it always hit the fan. It was a shame too because Stephen had been clean for almost two years. He went to rehab, got clean and attended meetings every week and kept tabs with his sponsor. Max was sure things were good, but here he was. Knocking on the door as hard as he can, the same knock he would make when he was on duty. It was a distinct knock that always told you that a cop was at the door. A few moments later, Martha came over and opened it. “Where is he?”

  “In the living room.” Martha answered.

  Max took a look at her eye and it was pretty bad. “Did he hit the kids?”

  “No, but he almost did.” Martha answered. “James tried to get between us but I wouldn’t let him.”

  Max was already furious but the idea that one of his nephews tried to be a human shield for his mother was all he could take. “Take the boys and take them in the bathroom and lock the door. Put the kids in the tub and don’t leave until I call for you.”

  “Max…” Martha pleaded.

  ”Do it!” Max said as he walked inside. He watched as his sister ran down the hall and took the boys out of their bedrooms. Once he saw the bathroom door close and lock, Max proceeded to living room. When he got there Stephen was in the lazy boy, drinking straight out of a twenty-sixer of Jack Daniels and watching the g
ame on television. The Yankees were losing and it was the reason he was being so abusive. “Hey Stephen.”

  Stephen looked up from his chair. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I got a message from Martha.” Max answered. “She’s under instructions to contact me if you ever break your sobriety or get violent. From the looks of it you’re two for two today…”

  “Get the fuck out of my house.” His brother-in-law replied.

  “I’ve been chipping in over 50% of the rent the last several months. When you were in rehab, I paid all of it.” Max retorted. “Shouldn’t I be telling you to get your drunk, wife beating ass out of my house?”

  Stephen hopped out of the lazy boy. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  Max replied with actions rather than words. While he was walking down the hall to the living room, he had put leather gloves on. He wasn’t there to talk. Max cracked his brother-in-law in the side of his head with a vicious left jab. While the fat man was dazed, Max came in and slapped the bottle of Jack out of his hands and proceeded to land a combo of serious body shots before cracking Stephen in the chin with an uppercut to the chin that sent the man flying off his feet and crashing through the coffee table.

  “Please stop!” Stephen cried.

  Max didn’t respond to the man’s crying and picked him up off the ground. Once the bastard was back on his feet, Max pulled out his gun. “Do you