Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > 'Goodbye My Friend, Goodbye My Love You're in My Heart, It Was Preordained That We Should Part5 Reviews
turtles breathe out of their anuses.
It had been 3 days since rock star William Beckett’s death.
Natalie’s article made front page, and there wasn’t a single person left in America that didn’t know about the incident.
The office phones never stopped ringing.
It was the best and worst thing to happen to the office in 8 months.
It was the worst because, well, we haven’t had a murder like this since the Black Dahlia, five years ago, people are getting killed.
It was the best because, the media couldn’t get enough of us.
I drove to the police station where I would be interviewing some girl, Mo Coco, she was in the band with Beckett, played drums or something insignificant like that.
I grabbed my coffee, locked the car of my volkswaggon and headed into the office.
The automatic doors welcomed me into a heated lobby, where nobody was there except a lineup teary eyed suspects and Brooke Baker, my colleague, she would be helping with the interview process.
“Hey doll face.” I smiled, walking over to her and her, what do they call it these days? Hipsterness? I don’t know, I don’t keep up with these things. She wore all black- her leggings that enlongated her lean legs, her black trench coat and her black V-Neck with her black flats. Her hair was down, but shaped into a bow at the crown of her head.
“How’s it going?” She looked up from her picking at her nailbeds, with a tiny smirk on her face.
“Its going good, I just don’t really wanna be here, ya know?” Because in reality, I had better places to be at 8 am. Like, at home in bed.
“Oh I know, shit’s brutal. We don’t work around schedule, just go with the flow.” She took a sip from the coffee mug in her handle, sighing almost dramatically.
“We’re ready.” Called a police from inside the interrogation room.
Brooke and I stalked across the hallways into the small close like room, closing our finger, and hoping for truth.
I didn’t want to be here. Know why? Because this is all stupid.
Beckett was just an all around stupid individual. Who ever killed him was stupid. It was stupid they’d even frame me. I mean, look at me. I’m an inch taller than a legal dwarf, the only muscle I have are in my wrist region, and I’m drummer in a shitty band. There really isn’t much damage I can do.
Two young women walked into the room. The first with long brown hair with a stupid bow thing on top of her head made out of her hair. Technology these days. The other one had black hair with red underneath and excessively large earlobes. I’m going to laugh when she’s 60 and has soggy ears. Ha.
They both had clipboards in hands, and smiles meant to fool 3 year olds. They neared towards the table I was sitting at, pulling up two chairs and sitting at it.
“Hi, my name is Detective Baker, and this is my partner, Detective Castro, we’re here to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.” The brunette one spoke, with such enthusiasm, I kind of wanted to throw up.
“Actually, I do mind.” I retorted, throwing my feet up on the table, right in the face of ‘Detective Castro’, chuckling.
I felt my feet shoved off the table.
“Feet off the table, kid.” Castro glowered, attempting to strike fear into my tiny bones.
“Well, we really need you to cooperate, we need some answers, so if you could help us out, that’d be great.” Baker somewhat pleaded.
“Sure cupcake, what do you want to know.” I rolled my eyes.
“January 17th 1952, there was a party in the later hours with a few people from the label, were you there?” Castro asked, one eyebrow arched, like she expected me to spill.
“Yeah, I was there.” I shrugged, trying to aggrevate them, keeping things short.
“Okay, well can you tell me who else was there?” Baker asked, she looked as though she was in pain from my stubbornness.
“Yeah. Beckett, Stumph, Nikkol, Caleb, Melillo and his girl, Wentz, and a bunch of record people I don’t know.” I could see their pens writing at top speed, something to feed their hungry cases.
“Okay, well what time did you get there, and when did you leave?” One of them asked, both awaiting answers.
“I arrived at the penthouse where they had the party around 7ish, I peaced out around midnight.” I brought myself back a few days ago, before all of this nonsense came around.
“Awesome, how did you get home that night?” Baker looked up and asked me.
“I took my car?” I asked. You would think that’s an obvious answer.
Questioning went on for another 30 minutes, I stopped being hard headed, I figured if I just give them straight forward answers, the sooner they’d let me go.
“One last question.” Castro sighed.
“Shoot.” I matched her somewhat relieved tone.
“It really seems like you don’t care about this at all. Why is that?” Some attitude in that question, I could see she genuinely cared for my answer.
“Because Detective Castro, in all honestly, I didn’t care for William Beckett, I thought he was a self involved douche bag. He said some shitty things to me, we weren’t exactly friends, and in all honestly, I think he had it coming for him. He had a bold personality. I mean, sure, nobody deserves to be killed, that’s a little much, but still. And plus, I’ve been around death all my life, its something that comes and goes with the wind. I’ve spent my days mourning over the loss of people I do actually care about, and what have I learned? God can’t help you, people aren’t going to bring people back from the dead, shit happens. You need to get over it. I spent my hour mourning about his death, how much it might suck for his family, his loved ones, but that isn’t enough for me to be crying my eyes out, because frankly, I never cared enough to begin with. Do I know who killed him? No. Do I care enough? No. I’ll help, if the law makes me. I don’t know anybody that would actually do such a thing. I most certainly am not to blame for this. So ba a ding, there’s all the answers you need from me. Ladies, its been a pleasure waking up at 7 on a Sunday for this, it really has, but I’m afraid I have better places to be. Good day.” And with that, I threw on my leather jacket, and strutted out that door leaving the two women in a mind fuck.
“Um.” Paige looked at seat of which a suspect was once sitting in.
“Yeah, I really don’t know what her deal was.” I pursed my lips, and wrote down a few more notes about ‘Mo Coco’.
The police sent in the next suspects: Nikkol and Caleb Turman. A happy couple in their mid 30’s, neighbors of Beckett, good friends of the band, extremely active in their church, Nikkol was 5 months pregnant. Caleb was a business man, everybody had perfect health, and there was a white picket fence encircling their property, what most would call the American Dream.
They sulked into the office, hand in hand, and took a seat at the table. Nikkol’s blonde hair was in tight curls, framing her pretty face. She had on a red polka dotted dress with a black coat over it. Caleb’s ginger hair was slicked back, wearing a simple sweater vest and black slacks. Sadness wore across their faces, there was a comfortable silence as they entered the room.
We did our commercial introductions. They said nothing, just nodded at appropriate times.
“Okay guys, what time did you leave that party?” I asked as softly as possible, trying not to bring forth any more tears.
“Well, we left at 10, we had to go to church the next morning, so we left early.” Nikkol’s voice spoke up, surprising with a southern accent.
“Yeah, we were the first to leave, we got home at 11, and went straight to bed, there was no sign of Will, I think he got home around 2ish. Well, at least that’s how late most people get home from those parties.” Caleb added, a hint of his Texas background shining through in his voice.
“Anything suspicious happened that you know of?” Paige asked, her eyes longing to get this over with.
“No, no, everything seemed pretty normal. I honestly don’t know who could of done this. Everybody was so happy with each other. There were no hard feelings between anybody. I mean, sure people had their disagreeing, but at the end of the day, we were one big happy family.” Nikkol offered, shrugging her shoulders.
“Oh really, because that’s not what Mo Coco tells us.” I shook my head, and leaned forwards in my seat.
“What?” Caleb asked, off guard.
“Yeah, she said that Beckett wasn’t the most likable person, he had some haters.” I looked down at my clip board to double check.
“Oh Mo. She was just a kid with a troubled childhood. It wasn’t that William was hard to get along with, Mo was always the one to pick fights. Mo doesn’t like anyone, and frankly she was an angry person.” Caleb defended, raising his voice a tiny bit.
“So are you saying Mo may have had a motive?” Paige piped up, pushing her shiny hair behind her ear.
“Yes and no. You can see she isn’t a pleasant person to be around, and she didn’t like William, so if you want to think of that as a motive you could. Although, Mo’s been around death before and I don’t think she enjoys it much. As much as she likes inducing pain, death is a hard thing to death with, and she knows that. I don’t think she would do something nearly as violent or stupid as to kill him.” Nikkol explained, you could hear the motherliness in her voice.
“How close were you guys with William?” I asked, going through the list of ‘stupid questions’ in my head.
“We were really close with William. We met 3 years ago when he first moved in next to us. We came over to our house every Saturday night when he was back from tour, and played scrable with us. We were invited to the parties, we went out for drinks, he spent thanksgiving with us when he was back, we were pretty much family.” Caleb answers, with much compassion, like he was talking about a dead best friend. Heh.
I nodded, and ‘wrote down my observations’. Honestly, you look at my notepad, and the only things written on it are doodles of the flowers, and penises.
I knew Mo or the Turmans didn’t do it, and they didn’t know anything worth writing, so tough. As soon as somebody gives me something to write about, I will write it down, but otherwise, I’m going to keep at my doodles.
I shut up and left the rest of the interrogation process to Paige, who was halfway into it. Honestly, they ended up being two hard core republicans who go to preach the word of God everyday of their lives as they feed the homeless and knit with the elderly. I doubt they’d lay a hand on anyone.
After we got all we needed from Nikkol and Caleb, we headed back to the office with Brendon and Ryan. You gotta love the first steps of a murder case like this.
I woke up in the morning feeling like Elvis Presley, grab my bow, I’m out the door, I’m going to hit this inner city.
I sat at my desk waiting for further news from Brendon about the case. My last article had done so well with the press, considering how little known this band was. I heard my door open and looked up to find Brendon’s shining face.
“Can I come in?” Brendon asked, with his head peaked through the door.
“Yeah, sure.” I don’t know what’s stopping him. He usually barges in regardless.
He walked into the room with another man following him. He had tan skin, dark skin, and a dangerous Latin vibe to him. He stood a good 6 feet and something inches above the ground. His dark chocolate eyes wandered around the room until they found mine.
“Hi, I’m Gabriel Saporta, I’m your new editor and publisher.” A cheeky grin crept upon pretty face, and stuck out his hand for me to shake.
I smiled back for how ever long before I knew to shake his hand.
“Oh, hi, I’m Natalie Kinkie.” I shook his hand stupidly.
“Kinkie?” He rose an eyebrow as he released my hand.
“Yeah, I guess you could say I live up to my name,” I batted my eyelashes, stupidly.
Oh my God did I really just say that.
He chuckled, and awkwardly looked away.
“Did I really just say that.” I spat out stupidly, looking at Brendon desperately.
“Yeah, I was wondering that too.” Brendon said, trying to cover up his laughter, by coughing.
“Haha, okay, well it was nice meeting you Mr. Saporta, and I look forward to working with you later on, now if you excuse me, I have to go run some copies.” I started making my way out the door.
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Natalie.” He winked at me, and opened the door.
I ran down the hallway to the copier room and popped a squat on the chair.
Oh my Lord. This office just got a lot sexier.
I have her eating out of the palm of my hand already.
This shouldn’t be hard whatsoever.
Then me and Dave had hot Mexican sex in the back of my car and it was great.
What am I doing with my life.
this chapter was so painful to write.
I love you all.
I didn't edit.
I’m sorry Ima douchebag.
Ima leave now.