to women and his fucked up marriage—runs a clean business.
A fucking long time ago, the Fitzgeralds were involved in some crazy shit that started in Westbrook Blues, but from what I understand, it all ended with dad’s grandfather. But some families where burned severely when that happened. One of them were the Matthews…
“Of course,” Liam smirks, glancing at me briefly, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “I’m all clear of drugs.”
The officer doesn’t smile. He looks down at his note pad and starts reading.
“The Saturday night of the accident, you said you were driving from one of your friend’s house when your car seemed to—,”
“Malfunction.” Liam finishes that, making the officer look up at him, frowning.
“Yes, malfunction,” he grumpily agrees. “You also said you weren’t sure what was wrong with the car, but it seemed like there was something—,”
“Off about the way it moved and sounded,” Liam grins. “Yes, I remember my statement well, Detective. I wasn’t so out of it as you state.”
Both the officers stare at my brother, unamused.
“We’re trying to do our job as best as we can, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“I understand that, but I’m confused,” Liam states. “Why do you need to collaborate my statement?”
The officers look at each other, then they look at John and Nicky.
“Mr. Fitzgerald, we have reason to believe that your accident wasn’t really an accident.”
Standing up straight, all eyes shift to look at me, but I don’t say a word, watching the detectives. Liam lets out a little chuckle.
“Okay, what does that mean?” he questions.
We both know what it means, but why are the police are here and asking about it? That’s another thing all together. Something’s wrong here, so fucking wrong.
“It means that we believe the car you were driving—which is registered to your brother—was tempered with,” Detective potbelly says.
“What?” John exclaims, a bewildered look on his face. “What do you mean by that?”
“Sir, there’s no better way of saying this but we believe that someone tried to kill your son, sir.”
John looks at me, but I ignore him, watching the detectives instead.
“Whoa, whoa. detectives,” Liam steps in. “I think you have this all mixed up.”
“I assure you, Mr. Fitzgerald, we take these matters seriously in Palos Verdes.”
“I appreciate that, but how can my brother’s faulty car, which has had several engine failures in the past and has been cooped up in the garage for a few weeks before that Saturday; how could that car been tempered with?”
“You seem like you know cars well, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Detective stoic says.
And there it is.
Liam doesn’t miss a bit though.
“Well, when you spend time with those throaty beasts, you learn to admire the way they look, their sensual body of art, the way they move, the way they work.”
“Liam,” John chides, clearing his throat.
“It’s the truth, Dad,” Liam chuckles lightly. “I mean, you get to know cars very well that you can easily recognize when a car is malfunctioning like I mentioned.”
They’re silent as they watch him, so he continues a fake tale.
“Beside all that, I drove wrong. I think there was something in the middle of the road, maybe it was a cat. You know how cats are in Palos Verdes.”
“Sure—"
“Yes, so I drifted off the road but couldn’t seem to control the car after that. I knew I was headed for the cliffs, so I dove before I was done for. My face isn’t fit to be smeared and plastered on cliffs, right J?”
“Right.” I state, keeping my voice low.
All eyes turn to me. I see the way the officers straighten up, tensing up. My father eyes me for a second as Nicky steps closer to him.
“Your face would make fine cliff design, Liam.” I start, my words low. “Great for sightseeing.”
“Nah, not this face!” Liam says, turning to look at the detectives. “So yeah, that’s what happened, and I would’ve been done for, if it wasn’t for the girl who saved my life.”
“Ah yes, Miss Mia Montague,” Detective potbelly says, perking up. “According to both of your statements, she found you that night because she saw the whole thing?”
“That’s right.” Liam says, stepping forward now paying close attention than he was before. “What about her?”
“Mr. Fitzgerald, don’t you find that odd?”
I stand even taller, remaining silent.
“What’s odd?” Liam echoes, his voice dropping toa. Deadly pitch.
“That Miss Montague, a student from Clintwood Academy, your rival enemy, just happened to be right behind you while your car burst into flames?”
“What?” Nicky says, stepping forward now.
“Hmm, nothing’s odd there, detective,” Liam shrugs, fighting