Away with the Fishes by Stephanie Siciarz Page A

Some sort of trial? What are you driving at?” He moved close up to the officers, who were seated next to each other in matching armchairs, and stared down into their faces.
    Officer Smart stood up. “I’ll tell you what I’m driving at. Did you happen to see an ad in the
Morning Crier
a few days ago? An ad for a lady? An ad for a lady with a bike?”
    “Yeah, what of it?”
    “An ad placed by a fisherman?”
    “Yeah, I saw it. Everybody did. What does any of this have to do with Rena?”
    “Tell me, Mr. Fuller, what is your occupation?” He sat down again, and Madison followed suit.
    “I fish for a living, but if you think I placed that ad, you’re out of your head. I still don’t see what this has to do with Rena.”
    “It’s perfectly clear to me what this has to do with Rena. You needed a new girl and you placed an ad to find one.”
    Like one of his prize catches, Madison’s body twitched in disbelief, his mouth gaping and speechless.
    Officer Smart continued, unrelenting: “Rena Baker. Did she or did she not prepare lunch for you every day?”
    “So?”
    “Would you care to tell us what she prepared for you?”
    “I don’t know. Fish.”
    “What kind of fish?”
    Madison was losing his patience. “Swordfish, flying fish. I don’t know.”
    “What else did she make to go with the fish?”
    “Plantains. Cabbage. Rice and peas. Macaroni pie. Does it matter?”
    Office Smart nudged Officer Tullsey. “Are you getting all this down?”
    Officer Tullsey pulled a pencil and pad from his pocket and made a note. “Got it. Peas. Macaroni pie.”
    “Well, I never!” May puffed, aggravated, astonished, and at a general loss for words.
    “This so-called fish that she prepared,” Smart continued. “Where did it come from? Did Miss Baker buy it at the fish market or did she get it from you?”
    “Sometimes she cooked what I caught and sometimes she bought it. Honestly I don’t see
what
this has to do with—”
    “Don’t you?” Officer Smart interrupted. “Tell me, when Rena Baker buys you fish from the fish market, who pays?”
    “What?!”
    “The fish money. Who puts up the fish money?”
    “Well, she does, I guess.”
    “You reimburse her?”
    “No, but I buy her all kind of—”
    “You expect me to believe that a man, a
fisher
man, who makes his girlfriend buy him fish and cook him cabbage on the side isn’t capable of murder? What happened after you got rid of her? You got hungry, didn’t you? You got a hankering for those nice plantains of hers and that’s when you slipped your ad under the door at the
Morning Crier
.” He stood up again and looked down into Madison’s face. “Didn’t you?”
    “Murder.
Morning Crier
,” Officer Tullsey noted. “Got it.”
    “But I love her!” Madison jumped up.
    “This is ridiculous!” It was May’s turn on her feet. She was furious. “How dare you come into our home and accuse my brother of such madness without a shred of evidence? Murder, indeed! I want you out of here now.” She stuck her arm straight out and pointed to the door.
    “Well, if you’re refusing to cooperate, miss—”
    “Now!” she shouted.
    “You’re just complicating the investigation. We’ll be back with a warrant, you know. To search the place for evidence.”
    “Fine. Get all the warrants you want. But for now, get out of my house.”
    The officers looked at each other and quietly obeyed. Partly they feared May, a force to be reckoned with just then and of hurricane strength. Partly they were tired, having been up and down the whole of Oh’s southern half that day. And, partly, they weren’t sure what the law said they should do next (or if they should have done what they already did). Yes, perhaps it was best to leave quietly and consult the Chief of Police. The next step could well be an arrest, and neither officer had the nerve to assume responsibility for that.
    With the officers out of her house and her hair, May set about setting the table. Her