Page 56 of I Did Something Bad
I think before I answer. Technically, I haven’t told them a lie up to this point. I’ve definitely fudged the truth and omitted some facts, but I haven’t lied. “I—” I start, then clear my throat, buying some more time while I try to remember what the typical sentence is for lying to an officer of the law.
“Detectives.” May’s laugh interrupts us. “This is afour-hundred-dollarpen. I don’t know any freelance journalists who make enough disposable income to waste four hundred dollars on a pen. No offense, Khin,” she says to me with an apologetic smile.
I shake my head. “None taken,” I say. I turn back to the two men who I can tell are torn between wanting to interrogate me further, and not wanting to offend May Diamond. And also, she has a point. Who else but an actress who paid twenty million dollars for her latest house in a single cash transfer would be ridiculous enough to drop four hundred dollars on a singular pen?
With clear trepidation, Detective Htet says, “Still, you… can’t take the pen back.”
May’s smile drops. “Why not?”
“Because it’s… evidence?” His voice goes up at the end so that it sounds entirely like a question and not a blatant fact.
“But it’s my pen,” May says. This has dragged on long enough that she’s no longer cheery, America’s sweetheart May Diamond, but a formerly purring cat now flashing her fangs. “Am I a suspect in the case? Because my lawyers weren’t informed of that.”
“No!” You can see the sweat stains forming under his arms in real time. “You’re not, we’ve cleared you.”
“So why can’t I have my pen back?”
“Because—”
“IfI’mnot a suspect, and this ismypen, which itisas we’ve established, then it isn’t evidence, right?”
“Right,” Detective Htet agrees. He licks his lips like his tongue is physically scrambling for words. Any string of words thatwon’tresult in May’s team of lawyers calling his boss and demanding to know why the hell he didn’t give back her most beloved pen. Without warning, he redirects his attention to me. “Khin, we need your fingerprints.”
“Why?” May and I ask in unison.
“Because—” He’s not looking at May. Coward. “We lifted fingerprints off of that pen, and if—”
“This isridiculous,” May states. Her tone is biting, bordering on threatening. “Detective, I can guarantee you that there arehundredsof fingerprints on this pen, because lots of people have used it, as is the nature. Of. A. Pen.Myfingerprints will be on it.” She points at Tyler. “Hisfingerprints will be on it. Any wandering child who picked it up at the park and then tossed it back into the sand’s fingerprints will be on it. What, are you going to fingerprint the entire city? This entire crew? Every single person I’ve ever worked with throughout my career?”
The detectives’ jaws hang very, very low.
“We’ve established that this is my pen and that I was nowhere near the scene of the crime, and I have a long shooting schedule ahead of me, and this much sun exposure is already making me start to sweat off my makeup, so can wepleaseget on with our day?”
In one final attempt at maintaining a shred of procedure, Detective Zeyar asks once more, “You’re… sure this isyourpen?”
At that, Tyler leans forward. “If I may,” he says, “Ican confirm that’s May’s pen. In fact, it’s her favorite autograph pen.”
“It’s all in the tip,” May explains. She straightens and, shaking out her scowl, addresses her and Tyler’s small entourages. “What a great omen! I knew today was going to be a good one. Let’s bringthis energy to set!” She shoots the detectives one final showstopping smile and repeats, “Thank you again soooo much,” before turning and marching off to work.
Despite our collectively perceptiblewhat the fuck just happenedmentality, we all scurry on behind her. Kyi Kyi has the ziplock bag pressed up against her chest, her clipboard shielding it from anyone who might dare try to take it.
“Fourhundreddollars?” I hear Detective Zeyar say behind us. “That’s, what, seven hundred thousand kyats? On apen?”
“Actors are weird,” Detective Htet mutters.
Tyler whips out his phone and concentrates on reading something, his gait slowing until he’s fallen into step beside me. “We might have a problem,” he mumbles.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth. “Does—” I hesitate, not knowing if Iwantto know the answer to my next question. “Does May really have a Cartier pen with ‘KH’ engraved on it?”
Because I mean… it’s not a wholly implausible possibility. KH.Kiss Her. Ithadbeen the movie to shoot her career into the stratosphere. And she does sign a lot of autographs, so—
“May knows.”
My brain malfunctions. Forgetting about being covert, I swing my head in his direction. “Huh?” I ask, realizing I’d already half convinced myself that I had gotten lucky and May and I had justhappenedto have the exact same pen that we’d both lost in the exact same lake on the exact same day. (Okay, when I frame it like that, I hear how delusional it sounds.)
Tyler tucks his phone into his pocket and gives me a breezy smile as he repeats, “May. Knows.”
And just like my precious four-hundred-dollar pen on that godforsaken night, my stomach plummets down, down, down.
