Unmentionable Person

Alan fidgeted nervously in the waiting area at the county jail. He was dressed in his formal school uniform: jacket, tie, dress shirt, trousers, and well-shined dress shoes. Mr. Wolfe sat on one side of him; it was he who had suggested the more formal attire.

"Put a psychological distance between yourself and your attacker," he'd counseled. "Make him realize that this is no friendly chat."

Scott sat on Alan's other side, and beyond him rested Fermat. Scott had taken both of them out for breakfast at a local pancake house. Alan just picked at his food, a knot tightening within him. Scott noticed, but didn't say anything at the time. However, when informed of the impending appointment, Fermat insisted on coming along. "You c-can use all the moral s-support you can get," he had stated.

Alan had given his friend a slight smile. "Thanks," was all he could bring himself to say.

The county sheriff's office and jail turned out to be a fairly new facility located a few miles past the mall. Lee Sugimoto was being held there until all the charges against him were sorted out. They were waiting for Kerry Larson to appear, and things would get underway.

Scott noticed Alan's fidgeting. "You okay?"

Alan sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I dunno. I guess it's just the waiting." He gave his stomach an absent-minded rub, and shot a worried glance at the locked door.

Scott opened his mouth to say something when there was a buzzing, and the door of the waiting area opened. Kerry Larson stepped in, a folder in her hand. She held the door open with her back.

"We're ready, Alan."

Alan blew out a shaky breath as he stood. Scott, Fermat and Mr. Wolfe stood with him, and Scott put a protective hand on Alan's shoulder.

Kerry looked at each of them, and smiled apologetically. "Just Alan and his attorney, I'm afraid. You two will have to wait here."

Alan gave his brother a troubled look, and Scott, his face serious, squeezed Alan's shoulder. "You don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to."

"He's right, Alan." Wolfe had picked up his briefcase. "You can walk out right now. You can stop things at any point, and walk away. Just say the word."

"I understand." Alan swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The knot got even tighter, making him slightly nauseous. "Let's go."

Scott released his grip, and Fermat reached out to touch Alan's arm. "G-Good luck."

"Thanks." With that, Alan let his attorney herd him out of the room.

"We shouldn't be long," Kerry told Scott and Fermat before leaving the room herself, closing the door behind her.

"Damn." Scott all but flung himself into the vinyl-covered chair. "I wanted to confront this creep myself."

Fermat plopped into the chair beside him. "You and me, b-both."

Detective Larsen guided Alan and Wolfe to a conference room, and indicated that they take two of the chairs, sitting on the same side of the table. An older lady, wearing a business suit, her silver-white hair done up in a twist, was sitting on the other side. She reminded Alan somewhat of Miss Belvedere.

"Alan, Mr. Wolfe, this is Ms. Constance Graham, Lee Sugimoto's attorney. Ms. Graham, Palmer Wolfe and Alan Tracy."

The two attorneys shook hands with each other, then Ms. Graham shook hands with Alan. "Thank you for agreeing to see my client today, Alan. I understand this must be difficult for you."

Alan nodded, moistening his lips with his tongue. "Yeah. It is." Beside him, Palmer Wolfe laid his briefcase on the table; Ms. Graham's already sat before her.

The door behind them opened. Palmer Wolfe turned around, but Alan didn't. From the corner of his eye he could see a figure make its way around the table. Flanked by two guards, Lee Sugimoto had arrived.

He sat down across from Alan, maneuvering carefully as his hands were cuffed. He wore a pair of jeans and a light blue, long-sleeved shirt. He looked thinner, and his face wore a weary expression, but as his gaze met Alan's, he smiled slightly. The two guards took up positions within easy reach.

"All of you, please keep your hands in sight at all times," the detective warned. "And Mr. Sugimoto, please be reminded that you are still under Miranda – except for any direct communication with your attorney. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lee nodded.

"I'll be right outside." With that, Kerry Larson pressed a button, and a buzzing noise signaled that she could leave the room.

"Lee, this is Palmer Wolfe, Alan's attorney." Ms. Graham said, indicating the other lawyer. She folded her hands and laid them on the table. "Now. Down to business. Lee?"

Lee Sugimoto licked his lips. "Uh, yeah." He glanced around the room, then met Alan's impassive gaze again. "Thanks for coming, Alan. I, uh, was hoping to talk to you in private, but it seems that's not going to happen." He gestured toward Alan's face with both hands. "What happened to the cheek?"

Alan's gut lurched. "As if you didn't know." His words were flat and low and sharp and hard as he raised a hand to his face. "This is where your pal Steve smashed my face into the tree a few times."

Lee spread his hands as best he could. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't realize how hard he'd done that." He squirmed in his seat a little.

Leaning in a little, Alan laid both hands flat on the table. "You wanted to talk to me. So talk."

"Well," Lee began, avoiding Alan's eyes. "You probably have heard that Mickey and Pierce pled guilty for beating someone else up at Wharton. They're trying to drag me down with them for that." He paused to let Alan respond. When Alan remained silent, he continued. "I wanted to ask if you would testify in my defense; tell the court what really happened."

The bile began to rise in Alan's throat, but he forced it back down with a heavy swallow. He felt his jaw tighten; his eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists. Palmer Wolfe leaned over and whispered in Alan's ear. "Calm down, Alan. Don't let him get to you." Alan forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. He did this once, twice, and again before he felt his jaw loosen enough to speak.

"Go on."

Looking around, Lee moistened his lips then cleared his throat. "Uh... yeah. I, uh, was hoping you could tell the court about that night, how we were both in the dorm, doing homework..."

Alan paled and his eyes widened. He shook his head, starting slow as Lee's words took hold and becoming sharper, more violent with every syllable. His voice started soft but rose to a shout. "No...nononoNO! That is not how it happened!" He slammed his fists on the table, rising from his seat. "We were on the outs. I was ready to move." He jabbed a finger at Lee. "You were out; I don't know where. You came back before curfew; told me it wasn't my business to know where you'd been! Told me where anyway... said you were out tossing a football with your friends! Your pants were stained with mud and grass!"

Palmer Wolfe stood quickly as one of the guards moved around to Alan. "Alan, sit down!" The firm words and equally firm hand on Alan's shoulder made the teen drop suddenly into his seat.

Wolfe glanced at the guard. "He'll be okay now. There won't be another outburst like that again. Will there, Alan?" His voice held a world of warning.

Alan took another deep breath, and slumped in his chair. "No... sir."

The guard nodded and moved back to his position behind Lee.

Lee spread his hands again. "I'm sorry, Alan, but that's not how I remember it." He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table. "I distinctly remember doing homework in our room. I mean, it's not like we were friendly or anything; it was the silent treatment on both ends. And I remember asking you about your move, just before lights out." He smiled wanly, and shrugged a little. "I was pretty snide about it. The steroids may have messed my memory up some, but I remember that night pretty clearly."

There was a long silence on Alan's part. He was trying to process the barefaced lie that had been handed to him. His stomach roiled; he was tense from toes to scalp. Finally, he let out a short huff of breath.

"You want me to testify for you? Don't you mean lie for you?" The words came through nearly clenched teeth. He shook his head. "I've already told the police the truth. You didn't come back to our room until just before curfew. You said you'd been out throwing the football around." He paused, and his voice held a note of angry satisfaction. "I know why you can't tell the truth: you'd have tell who you were playing with, so they could give you an alibi. And you can't do that because they don't exist! So you asked me to lie instead. After all, it's your word against mine, isn't it?" He leaned forward, glaring. "Isn't it?"

Lee said nothing, just sat back, cuffed hands still on the table, scowling.

"Right." Alan brusquely shook his head again. His voice was terse, and ragged. "And y'know what else? I knew you'd blame the steroids for what you did. Nothing's ever your fault, is it? Not the hell you put me through. Not the lying. Not the rumors. It's everybody else's fault but yours."

"I didn't start any rumors." Sugi leaned forward again, so abruptly that the guards moved in closer, and his lawyer put a hand on his arm. "I don't know who did."

Alan shot him a disdainful look. "Right. Sure. Keep telling yourself that. I don't believe it. Neither do my friends." He put his hands flat on the table again, and stood, then turned to Mr. Wolfe. "I'm done here."

As Wolfe rose and Alan turned to go, Lee came to his feet in one convulsive move. "You don't know what it's like, do you? To have a mom walk out on you, or a dad who cares more about his damned inventions than he does about you!" A guard moved in and took him firmly by the arm. It didn't stop him. He hooked a thumb at himself. "I needed those steroids! It's not my fault! They messed me up! Damned stupid Pierce messed me up!" Ms. Graham rose to try and calm him; the other guard moved in to hold him back.

As they reached the door and Mr. Wolfe pressed the button to be let out, Alan turned. He swallowed heavily, and caught Lee's gaze in his own. Lee stopped shouting.

"Y'know, my dad always said there were no shortcuts," Alan said, a bitter tone to his voice. "Now I see why. You took one... and it led you nowhere."

With that, the door buzzed. Wolfe pulled it open, ushering Alan through. Kerry Larson waited on the other side.

"Are you okay, Alan?" she asked. "You look pale..."

Alan swallowed hard. He was still tense, and now he started shaking. "I... I'll be okay. Where's Scott? I want out of here!"

Kerry gently took his arm. "C'mon. Your brother's waiting just down the hall."

"So, what do they plan to do?" Scott paused to take another bite of his chili dog, then wiped his chin as he chewed. He swallowed, and took a drag on his soda straw. "Any ideas?"

It was just past noon, and the three young men were in the mall's food court. Alan thought they were still too close to the jail, but he said nothing. He picked at his food again, even though it was one of his favorites.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Mr. Wolfe said he'd be in touch."

Fermat shook a plastic fork at him. "Wh-Why do you think Sugi said what he d-did? He should h-have known you wouldn't lie for him."

"I don't think he knows me well at all, Fermat." Alan fished out a bite of chicken and put it in his mouth.

"I agree." Scott nodded. "I wish I'd had the opportunity to tell him a few things personally. Preferably with my fists."

"M-Me, too. Especially about the rumors h-he started." Fermat frowned at his nearly empty plate as if offended by what he saw there. "H-How could he say that he didn't st-st-st... originate the rumors with a st-straight face?"

"I dunno, but he did." Alan picked through his food again, then crumpled up his napkin and threw it on his tray. "He blamed everybody but himself. The steroids, Pierce, his dad..."

Scott gave Alan a sharp, thoughtful glance. "Y'know, I just had an idea." He sat back and sipped his drink as the others watched him. "Something Dad said about Pierce... hmm." He pulled out his phone, then noticed that the younger two had stopped eating. "If you two are done, let's get on the road. I need to make a call."

They disposed of their trash and Scott speed-dialed a number as they walked out into the parking lot. "Hello, Brains?" He glanced at his watch. "Damn. Voice mail. It's too early there. Well, I'll leave a message and check back later."

Fermat had perked up at the sound of his father's nickname, but his face fell as he realized what time it was on the island. Scott continued his conversation. "Brains, listen, I just had a thought about that camera tech, and I didn't know who to pass it on to at the lawyers' office. Here it is. Seems Lee Sugimoto blames his dad for his problems. Dad said something to us about Pierce's family – Pierce is the dealer who provided the steroids. He said that this family was involved in some shady dealings. Could it be possible that Sugimoto lifted his dad's plans and gave or sold them to Pierce? Then Pierce's people turned around and sold them to whoever?"

By this time, they were at the car and Scott unlocked the doors so they could get in, phone pressed to his ear and continuing to talk all the while. "From what I understand, Lee was short on cash. Maybe this is how he got his steroids. Can you pass it on to the lawyers? Have them take a look into it? Thanks. Talk to you soon."

Scott ended the call, and closed up his phone. "There. That should start the ball rolling." He started the car. "Let's head back to Wharton."