Sally's Story: Questions

	Door shut behind them and tape again strung across it the pair returned to the parking lot to question their witness.
“Let me handle the questioning Sally.” Nodding, she fell in behind Vincent. They approached the disheveled woman who sat against the building’s brick wall, little sobs shaking her body.
	“Miss Murphy, correct?” The woman glanced up at the detective now proffering a hand. Taking it she pulled herself up and leaned against the wall for support. “Cigarette?”
	“P-Please,” she said. She cleared her reddened eyes, wiping her smudged mascara to the side in a greasy swipe as she composed herself. Taking the offered stoke Vincent lit her up, a deep drag later and the woman slackened her shoulders just a bit. “Th-Thanks.”
	“Of course. Detectives la Fontaine and Sally, BCPD. Can you give us a brief summary of what happened, please?” Sally focused her eyes, ready to take notes.
	“Of course, I left for work in the morning and said goodbye to Maria, same as every day. When I returned in the afternoon she was dead, just laying there. That's when I called, pretty much.”
	“And where do you work?”
	“I’m a secretary at Dernier Pharmaceuticals in downtown.”
	“And could you please elaborate on your relation to Ms. Montemayor?”
	“Well I was at work one day, scheduling appointments and handling the phone, same as always. Just a normal day. Then this girl comes in and asks if there’s any work, and I mean *any* work. She wanted to get a position as a janitor, and I figured ‘She’s new in town.’ I pulled some strings and she got her job mopping up and whatnot, and we got to know each other.”
	“And was Maria still employed at the time of her passing?”
	“I- No. She was fired, and quick. A month, two tops. By that point we were already friends though, and she’d moved in the week before she was axed.”
	“Do you remember her saying anything about why she was fired?”
	“No sir, just that she didn’t show up one morning and I found her at home, on the couch. I think it had something to do with her papers being bad, though.”
	“Was Maria skipping work but still clocking in, then?”
	“No, no -  her *papers*,” she said, eyes wide. “She never told me but I figured out pretty quick she wasn’t ‘meant’ to be here. Is anyone, though? Anyways, a lot of the neighbors are 'that way', right?. It never bothered me none.”
	“How long ago was this firing then?”
	“About three months? Closer to four now that I think about it,” she said. “Yeah, yeah - It was the Fourth or thereabouts now that I’m thinking. I came home with some sparklers and shit, fun stuff.”
	“Perfect, thank you. Now, does the name ‘Daniel’ mean anything to you?”
	“Daniel, Daniel…,” she paused, racking her brain. She looked down and scraped her shoes on the ground, kicking concrete “Fuck man, I really don’t know.”
	“Well, was there anyone that was close to Maria? Maybe spent time in the apartment?” The girl was loosening and relaxing with each puff as she closed her eyes tightly, thinking.
	“Oh, hell, of course,” she said. “Guy named Ringo would visit a lot, spend a lot of time here with Maria. She was infatuated with him, always hanging on his arm or macking on his neck.”
	“Weird name, Ringo - anything about him stand out?”
	“Well besides the name, which I can excuse living here,” she said, gesturing around the rows of apartments, “he’d always be ‘busy’, always coming and going. Never stayed the night, even when I made it clear I wouldn’t mind, and *especially* when Maria begged him to. Plus he used a lot of big words, not that that’s anything *weird*, but it certainly seemed… how can I put this…”
	“Compensatory?" She laughed, the robot not sure what was humorous in her question.
	“Yeah, a bit like that. I could tell he needed glasses but never wore them, always squinting.”
	“Chief question here is where the drugs came from.”
	“I figured you’d be able to guess, but Ringo brought them in. It was a few weeks after Maria was fired that he started coming around and brought that fucking garbage,” she started, pulling up her sleeves as she continued. “I wanna make it clear I never did none of that, officer. Before he came Maria mentioned a new job and she was making bank, by our standards I mean. We were thinking of moving out but the money up and disappeared save for a fifty here or there, and she started turning into… into a junkie.” She cringed at the word, a slight she’d only level at those who’d *really* earned it.
	“Ringo get high with her at all?”
	“Nope, never. Just put the TV on and put something in her arm, mouth or nose. Dealer’s choice, I guess.”
	“So he was selling her them?”
	“Of course! Where else was our, er, her money going? Certainly not to splitting rent, or food, or anything else!” She puffed angrily, breathing deep as she stilled herself again.
	“Weird one here, but did Maria eat a lot of brownies? Sweets of any kind?”
	“Not really, no, even when he’d bring a box every month or so. She was super defensive of them, though.”
	“He ever mention what he did for a living?”
	“You really need to ask? He didn’t say jack shit about his work other than ‘Here Maria’, or ‘You gotta hold it in, Maria’. Cunt.”
	“Well,” Vincent said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, “I believe we’ve concluded our business here. BCPD can arrange a temporary accommodation if need be Miss Murphy.
	“Sir,” Sally interjected.
	“I think I’ll be okay detective,” she continued. “I’ve got a cousin here, other side of the city in the suburbs.”
	“Sounds good to me,” Vincent said, shaking her hand. “If you have any, and I mean *any*, items to add or concerns about your own safety, you know who to call.” He smiled at the young woman as he wrote down his department number for her, the girl gingerly accepting it.
	“*Sir*,” Sally said, urgently.
	“Oh! What’s up Sal?”
	“I have some questions for Miss Murphy before we depart.”
	“I uh…” Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean sure Sal, go for it.”
	“Miss Murphy, can you please give us a general physical description of your ‘Ringo’?”
	“Yeah, yeah - uh lemme think,” she said, cigarette shortening. “He’s tall enough, maybe about your height, detective. Skinnier though, real wiry. Patchy beard and a weak moustache, very narrow face, several shades or so tanner than you as well - color of a beach goer.”
	“Excellent, thank you very much. Final question - do you often leave your window open?”
	“FUCK no, that just makes it hotter! At least during the Summer, it’s hot enough when we’ve got the fans going in our airtight hell-chamber of brick,” she said, angrily squashing her butt on the ground. “Window’s shut 24/7. I’d have it welded shut if I could. ” Sally nodded curtly, turning to Vince.
	“Okay sir, *now* I believe our business is concluded. Thank you for your cooperation Miss Murphy.” She nodded quietly as the two detectives stepped away to their car, ready to contemplate and follow-up. Vincent nodded to the other patrol officer as they prepared to leave, a coroner’s van having pulled up during their interview with the victim’s roommate.
	“Took you long enough,” Vincent laughed, leaning out of the driver’s-side window.
	“Screw off Vince, you know how the traffic is,” the bare-headed coroner returned. A burly robot followed behind him, stretcher in hand to move the body. “I won’t hold you!”
	“The officers have everything you need, Mick, just find me in the station if you need anything else.” The two continued their rapport as Vincent dropped the more crucial details, making note of Sally’s observations proudly. Chuckling, he slipped back inside the car and rolled the window up.
	“Vincent? I believe that the most pressing line of investigation we can follow is the factory for those pastries, it seems-”
	“Not so, Sally,” Vincent interrupted. “I’m frankly surprised we’ve just found this out, but this is organizational, not our guy. I’ve a sneaking suspicion that our ‘Daniel’ may have an inkling as to what was going on in our vic’s life.”
	“But sir-”
	“No buts. If there’s someone slipping skag into brownies on an industrial level and quantity they won’t be able to cover this up quickly - our chief concern is with who was in the room with her when she died. Odds are our Ringo or Daniel or whoever the fuck is trying to, or already has, skipped town or found a place to lay low.”
	“Understood, sir...”
	“That’s the spirit! And hey, chin up,” Vincent laughed. “We’re going to the library!”