Valuable Words

There was something quite uncanny about Paul Fenning’s presence in the interrogation booth. The twinkling of Officer Magnanti’s bright blue eyes told Daniel that he was probably chatting him up, asking about his latest book, New Nexus. Seeing the old man slumped back in his chair and being so open to Magnanti’s questions was a change in scenery for her. She looked forward to talking to someone less apprehensive and not having vulgarity spewed in her face as it would have in more sinister cases. Despite that pleasantry, she was not going to play nice.

Her attention was drawn back to inside the booth where now the two of them were laughing. They spoke a bit more before shaking hands. Fenning stayed while Magnanti exited. When he saw her standing outside, he had an unforgiving grin on his face.

“Hey Dani, you’re in for a real treat with this guy. He-” Daniel extending a hand.

“Officer Magnanti, so nice to see you. Did you manage to obtain any information while you were ‘interrogating’ Mr. Fenning?”

Magnanti blushed and looked down at her hand before taking it. “You know, if you had read as many of his books as I had, you would also have a tough time asking him any other questions. Besides, we don’t know that he did it.” He smiled nervously.

Daniel pulled him in and hugged him. “I’m just messing with you a bit Jason. Relax. It’s my job to find out what he did.”

He patted her on the shoulder and walked away, relieved but embarrassed. Before she opened the door to enter the booth she turned and said, “Don’t feel bad, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Upon closing the door, she changed her demeanor. She pulled her shoulders back and put on her most serious face. Fenning sat up as she gained command of the space. She felt that his attire seemed unbefitting of his fame: a red, plaid button up and jeans. The light reflected off his bald head. He had an unassuming look about him and his tired, brown eyes followed her like a child preparing to be scolded by his mother. In this moment, he looked fragile to her, a rural grandfather.

“Hello Mr. Fenning, I am Detective Marquez. I am here to ask you a few questions- “

“About my book I presume?” He smiled.

“I’m sorry sir but while my colleague is an enthusiastic fan of yours, I am not as avid a reader and we are going to stick to questions regarding the matter at hand, that is, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, that is too bad... but I accept your proposal” He slumped back into his chair with disinterest written all over his face.

She continued, “Now the evidence against you is pretty convincing. Surveillance footage shows you inspecting the bank on numerous occasions prior to the day the money was stolen.”

Fenning interjected “But you don’t have footage of me inside the bank or committing a robbery.”

“You are right. Surveillance footage cuts off around the time the robbery started, coincidentally up to the time that it ended. However, it also shows you entering a red Jaguar F-Type, coincidentally around the time the robbery ended when the footage was back online. Officers pursued your vehicle and- “

"The officers never found the car and no one ever found the money either. I was picked up from my home. No one could find any car of that kind associated with me. I don’t write detective novels but...this is not compelling evidence if you ask me.”

“That is all true. Officers are currently still looking to recover the footage, the vehicle, and the money. However, we cannot pretend that twenty-thousand dollars in marked bills did not get stolen and that the only evidence currently available does not trace back to you.”

He raised his hands in acceptance, “Fair enough.”

Daniel knew he was not going to play ball. No one ever does. “Why did you take the money? I read up on you. You’re an accomplished writer. You live comfortably. You clearly don’t need it.”

“Like you said, I have no need for the money, so if there is no motive, why the accusation?”

Daniel waited silently.

“...Alright, IF I were to have stolen the money...hypothetically speaking...I would say it was for the fun of it. Like my character Martin in Golden Text: ‘A story is only as good as the paper it is printed on’.”

“And why is that?”

“Because once it is written, it isn’t just a story anymore.”

“Like how once money is printed, it has value.”

“Precisely.”

He was not making any sense to her. This whole line of questioning felt like a waste of time. She continued to patiently sit, hoping it would coax him into talking more. It had worked in her career more times than it didn't. She felt him tense up as he clasped his hands together.

“Do you mind if I have my belongings returned to me? They are very precious to me, completely harmless.”

She stood up from her seat, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He was not offering much in terms of direction and he was right. The evidence they had was not much to go off. She hoped that appeasing him would get the ball rolling.

Jason was sitting at his desk typing up a report. “Hey Jason, what did Fenning have on him when they brought him in?” she asked.

He looked up. “Just this.”

He pulled out a bag from a shelf in the top corner of his desk. Inside was a small, black notebook, a stubby pencil, a sharpener, and an eraser.

“Nothing special about the notebook. It has his fingerprints all over it. No writing inside, no markings, nothing. I don't think it would hurt to give it to him. The worst thing it can do is give someone a paper-cut.”

Daniel took the notebook out of the bag and began inspecting it. Something must have agitated him about not having the notebook, and yet, it was just an ordinary notebook. The spine was a little worn from opening and closing. She pulled a flashlight out of her pocket and shined it through the pages. Nothing. She held up a lighter to the open pages. Again, nothing. She counted the number of pages. One hundred ninety-eight. There was a visible gap between where the pages started and the cover of the notebook.

“I recommend you check around his house to see if there are any missing pages.”

Jason smirked, “You really think he did it?”

“I just want to make sure I gave it my best effort.”

She put the notebook in the bag and walked back in with Mr. Fenning. He reached for the notebook before she even finished putting it down on the table separating them. He was delighted.

“Oh, thank you Detective Marquez. Tell you what, I will try to write you into a story.”

Daniel blushed, “Oh there is no need to do that.”

He began working with the pencil at a rapid pace. He would erase thoroughly every now and then, transitioning back and forth between writing and erasing. Daniel sat watching curiously. After fifteen minutes he put both the pencil and eraser back in the bag.

“It is finished.” He put the notebook down and she picked it up. Upon opening it Daniel was confused.

“There is nothing written inside.”

“Well, I don’t want to show you how it all plays out, but I think you will like it.” She gave a smile, trying to look sincere.

A knock came at the door. “Excuse me one moment.” Daniel said.

Jason was on the other end.

“I was about to head back to his house but before I could I got a call. They recovered footage. The guy who did it is not his build, shorter too. We traced every car matching the make and model to someone of that figure and found the guy with marked bills stashed in his garage. Mr. Fenning is free to go.”

The old man stood up and scratched the back of his head. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience Mr. Fenning.” Jason said.

“It’s no problem at all.”

“I don’t have my book with me b..but uh...I’d be happy to buy you some coffee tomorrow morning and I... could... bring it for you to sign? If you don’t mind?”

“I would be delighted Officer Magnanti.”

Daniel did not want to hear the rest of this and stepped out to give them privacy. Although the matter was resolved, she still felt suspicious about the convenience of it all.

Jason showed Mr. Fenning out of the precinct before turning to Daniel. “Detective Marquez, we are officially off the clock! Now let’s get that drink you talked about.

•••

By the time she got home the buzz of the night had dissipated. Still, Daniel could not get the case out of her mind. Her apartment door creaked as she unlocked it. Her golden retriever Nigel was so excited to see her as always. As she squatted down to receive his affections, she noticed a package inside her door. Two envelopes were inside, one a letter. She opened it and found a small piece of lined paper that looked like it had been torn out.

Dear Ms. Marquez,

I appreciate your patience with me as I imagine your job is not easy and not the most profitable of positions. I can imagine you are still puzzled about my little black notebook and the story I wrote for you. Even now you may be doubting my innocence. While I do not intend to incriminate myself, I will make you an offer. In the story I wrote for you, you receive a package containing twenty-thousand dollars that are completely untraceable. They do not belong to anyone and printed legally. Please accept this sum of money. I hope in return that your mind is put at ease and that any intellectual curiosities you have about me and my notebook are put to rest.

Sincerest regards,

Paul Fenning