Benjamin Bane
Prologue
IOWA DISTRICT COURT FOR COLLINS COUNTY
CASE: SW-201902227
REINDEER RUN LAW ENFORCEMENT CENTER
Recorded at 6:45 a.m. Oct. 17
Transcribed by Sgt. Autumn Weeks
…
Detective Riley: You comfortable? Can I get you something to drink? A coffee maybe?
Clementine: Got any IPAs on tap?
Riley: (Laughs) Afraid not. Keg’s dry.
Clementine: Figured as much. It’s those damn cheapskates on the City Council. Priorities all out of wack. Like, who cares about fixing potholes when we’ve got sober police over here?
Riley: Preaching to the choir, friend. Although I’m not a big fan of IPAs. Too bitter, too many carbs. You might as well drink a peanut-butter sandwich.
Clementine: True. Gotta stay fit. Wouldn’t want those love handles slowing down your draw time. Those unarmed minority teenagers might accidentally get away.
Riley: You got it.
Clementine: Huh. (Pause) This room looks just like I imagined it.
Riley: You’ve imagined it?
Clementine: Well yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve watched enough police procedurals to develop sort of a composite mental image of what an interrogation room looks like. And aside from that filing cabinet in the corner and that gross paint job – what even is that color? – you’ve pretty much checked all my boxes.
Riley: It’s puce.
Clementine: Puce?
Riley: Puce.
Clementine: It looks like a seasick eggplant. It looks like what happens when a leper gets leprosy. It’s leprosy squared. It looks like salmon that is simultaneously under- and over-cooked.
Riley: Really? I always thought it looked like the color of dried blood on a white bedsheet. (Pause) What? You’re usually so talkative. Lt. Callahan said you’re relentless when you corner him at the station.
Clementine: Well, when I talk to him, I’m usually not being detained in a puce-colored box of a room with a misplaced filing cabinet. Why am I being detained again? I don’t recall being arrested. Am I being arrested?
Riley: Arrested for what?
Clementine: Ugh. Does that ever work?
Riley: Does what ever work?
Clementine: You asking that. Has anyone ever been like, ‘Well obviously I’m being arrested for stealing $10,000 out of my great-aunt’s bank account to make sure I could afford enough cocaine to get me to Vegas. Oh wait. Whoops.’
Riley: Haha. Not in that way, I suppose.
Clementine: But people do talk themselves into trouble, right? That’s why you ask that question.
Riley: (Shrugs)
Clementine: (Stands) Well if I’m not being arrested, I’m going to go home and get very drunk. My job requires very little cardio, so I can have as many IPAs as I want.
Riley: I mean, you could do that. But then I might actually have to arrest you.
Clementine: (Sits) Fuck’s sake man. Just tell me what you want.
Riley: C’mon Clem. You’re –
Clementine: Don’t call me Clem.
Riley: Sorry. Clementine. Ms. Braker. You’re a smart person. I might not always agree with the things you and that fish wrapper you call a newspaper print, but I’m fairly certain they don’t hire dummies.
Clementine: You obviously haven’t met any of our sports reporters.
Riley: People are dead, Clementine. (Pause) Very dead. As dead as I’ve ever seen people die.
Clementine: I –
Riley: This one guy we found on the second floor. We actually thought it was several bodies at first. Spread out all over the place like a pile of guts shot out of a confetti cannon. But our forensics guy said, ‘No, this all used to be one person.’ And we were like, ‘No way, not unless he swallowed a hand grenade or something.’ But damn it if that little forensics nerd wasn’t right. One guy.
Clementine: It wasn’t –
Riley: You don’t forget something like that, Clementine. I’ll never forget that. The only reason I didn’t toss my cookies all over the place is because I was too busy shitting my pants.
Clementine: Look –
Riley: I’ve got a good shot at living a long life. A happy life. I eat right, avoid the carbs – as I mentioned – and have surprisingly low blood pressure for someone who works such a high-stress job. But it doesn’t matter how many years I’ve got in front of me. How many happy memories I have yet to make as I watch my kids grow up, as my wife I and grow old together. I just can’t help but think that as I close my eyes for the final time and take my last breath, the only thing I’ll see as the world fades away is going to be that pile of blood and guts and bone.
Clementine: Hey. Stop. I get it. You’re traumatized. You saw a human paella and now you’ll have to cut yourself with a razor every time you want to get a hard-on. I’m very, very sorry. But don’t come at me with your sob story. You weren’t there. You didn’t see a damn thing.
Riley: So why don’t you tell me –
Clementine: You’re worried about what you’ll see when you close your eyes? I’m worried I’ll never be able to close my eyes again.