Sections

Editors Note: This is part three in a series of fiction columns.

They sat across from each other, Crawford sipping an iced black coffee, she picking absentmindedly at a napkin.

Whats in the suitcase? she ventured after a few silent moments.

Crawford watched a cop car drive by. You dont need to know that.

She looked up at him, but he was avoiding her gaze. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, to ask him. She felt like shaking it all out of him, right there, in that coffee shop. He had been secretive and arrogant since their first meeting, and it was driving her quite mad. How could she do a good job if she was constantly kept out of the loop?

Irritated, she sighed with a definitive grump, turning away from him and crossing her arms. The couple next to her glanced over to see what the noise had been all about. She frowned at them;

they returned to their conversation.

So, whats stopping me from turning you in?

Please dont ask asinine questions. Its unbecoming.

A pause.

How do you know how do you know no one saw?
We wouldnt be sitting here if they did.

Another exasperated sigh escaped her. Crawford set his coffee down on the table abruptly, startling her into meeting his eyes.
What? she asked.

If its at all possible, and quite agreeable with you, I would like nothing more than to enjoy this rather distasteful coffee in silence for at least the next few minutes.
I just she began, hesitating at Crawfords stern look, but continuing nonetheless, it just feels like I dont know anything. You know? Im in the dark, stumbling around, grabbing at air.

Ive told you all you need to know. Everything else is, he shrugged, irrelevant.

Unsatisfied, she suppressed another sigh and turned away again, resting her eyes on
Um, we have a problem, her voice trembled.

Crawford was pleased. He shifted in his seat, waiting.

Whats in the suitcase?

There she went again, with her child-like wonder. He was surprised she had managed to keep quiet that long.

You dont need to know that.

He was becoming frustrated.

So, whats stopping me from turning you in?

Had she been anyone else, he would have disposed of her much earlier. He blinked slowly, wondering how best to phrase his retort.

Please dont ask asinine questions. Its unbecoming.

Crawford spent several days convincing his partner that they needed her. He was beginning to regret that particular decision with each passing minute.
How do you know how do you know no one saw?

However, it wouldnt look good for him if he admitted he had been wrong.
We wouldnt be sitting here if they did.

Trust me, he thought. Deciding the interrogation needed to stop Crawford set his coffee down, and leaned forward getting close enough to make her uncomfortable.

What?

If its at all possible, and quite agreeable with you, I would like nothing more than to enjoy this rather, he lifted up the cup, distasteful coffee in silence for at least the next few minutes.

I just it just feels like I dont know anything. You know? Im in the dark, stumbling around, grabbing at air.

Ive told you all you need to know, he noted, Everything else is irrelevant.

He understood his vague, dismissive answers wouldnt placate her. But he also understood that timing was everything, and if he revealed anything too soon Um, we have a problem.

Crawford followed her frightened stare. The suitcase was missing.

To Be Continued…