“Throwing shades?” Decker asked.

“Dissing,” Diaz said.

“Beaning you with sunglasses,” Garrett said.

“Ah.” Decker regarded Martel. “I’m doing this for your benefit. Do you want to hear what I have to say?”

“Yeah…course.”

“And you are waiving your right to have an attorney present?”

“I don’t need no lawyer if all I be doin’ is listenin’, nomasayin’?”

“I agree.” Decker gave him a few seconds to relax. “I was talking to Detective Diaz and Detective Garrett about your case. You told them you’ve never met Primo Ekerling.”

A swift shift of the eyes. “Who?”

“The guy you’re accused of murdering, Mr. Martel.”

“Oh, yeah…him.” He sat back in his chair and spread his legs apart. “I didn’t whack that guy. I don’t even know the dude.”

“Yes, you told us that,” Garrett said. “That’s what Lieutenant Decker is saying. That you don’t know Primo Ekerling.”

“Tru’ dat.”

“You’ve never met Primo Ekerling?”

Another shift of the eyes. “Sayin’ I don’t know him be meanin’ I never met him.”

“Never talked to him?”

“I don’t know the dude!” Martel repeated. “This is what you come here to yak about, I ain’t hear nothin’ that interests me.”

“You don’t know Primo Ekerling, you never met him, you never talked to him, you never communicated with him, you’ve never even heard of him before you were arrested for his murder,” Decker said. “Is that what you’re telling us, Mr. Martel?”

“Yeah…” Again he slumped back in his chair. “That’s what I be tellin’ you over and over. Are we done here?”

“That’s real interesting.” Diaz laid the bagged jewel boxes on the table. “Do these look familiar, Travis?”

Martel picked up one of the plastic sacks. “Course they do. They’re mine. Is this a trick question or somethin’?”

“Know where I found them?” Decker waited for Martel’s attention, specifically eye contact, because when Martel was talking, he was looking at the floor. “I found them on Primo Ekerling’s office shelves.”

Martel’s eyes skittered back and forth. “So what? How do I know how Ekerling got my demos? Maybe someone thought I had talent and sent them to him.”

Garrett said, “We dusted the jewel boxes, Travis.”

“See, that’s why they’re all dirty with black powder,” Diaz said.

“We got a couple of perfect prints, Travis. You sent those jewel boxes out, and you sent them to Primo Ekerling.”

Martel’s eyes made a swipe at Garrett’s face. “So what’s the big D? My shit must have went to a million producers.”

“You sent out your stuff to a million producers,” Decker said.

“Yeah. That’s whachu gotta do to get your foot into the door, nomasayin’?”

“You sent them out?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said…to a million people. I don’t be rememberin’ who I have sent them to and who I have not sent them to.”

“When you sent them out, you addressed the envelopes,” Decker said.

A pause. “You gotta talk to my manager,” Martel said. “He’s the one who have sent out the CDs to the producers, y’all. I don’t remember no names. Why don’t you axe my manager?”

“Who’s your manager?” Garrett asked him.

“I ain’t gonna tell you shit, man, if y’all gonna start accuzin’ people.”

“We don’t have to ask your manager if he sent them out or not, because the handwriting on the envelope was yours.” Decker’s lie was smooth. The envelopes containing the jewel boxes were long gone.

Another shift in the eyes meant another shift in strategy for Martel. “Like I tole you, I have sent them out to ’bout a zillion producers. How am I gonna remember one name or the other? I thought you are here to tell me somethin’. So far all you be tellin’ me is a lot of shit that you throwin’ my way.”

Decker said, “Travis, if you knew Primo Ekerling…if you had a business deal with him, it’s better if it comes out now.”

“This is the only chance that you’re going to have to explain the relationship to us,” Garrett said.

“I don’t know what you be talkin’ ’bout.”

“Sure you do,” Decker said. “We’re talking about your relationship with Ekerling. Those jewel boxes will be entered into evidence at your trial. So explain to us why Ekerling had your jewel boxes. If you don’t, some state prosecutor will provide his own explanation and make you look like a fool.”

“I ain’t got no relationship with Ekerling. That’s whack! I did not know him and I did not have no deal with him!”

Diaz said, “Travis, we’re trying to help you, and you’re not helping yourself!”

Garrett told him, “Only way we can help you is if you tell the truth.”

“I’m tellin’ you the tru’.”

“No, you’re not; you’re telling us smack.”

Diaz said, “Help yourself out because everything’s going to come out.”

Garrett said, “The best thing you can do is to stop playing games and admit that you knew Primo Ekerling.”

“Truth is easier to remember, Martel. What’s the big deal telling us that you knew him?”

Travis dug his heels in. “’Cause you’re tryin’ to make a connection and there ain’t none there. I don’t know him-”

“Now how do you think that’s gonna play?” Garrett said. “You keep on saying you don’t know him and then we show the jury the envelopes in your handwriting addressed to Primo Ekerling-”

“I tole you I sent the CDs out to a billion producers.”

Decker said, “Did you also send out a billion CDs with handwritten notes, saying: ‘Yo, here’s more. Let me know what’s happenin’?”

Eyes darted from one face to another. Martel looked down, then up, then anyplace except Decker’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Blatant denial was best countered by blatant evidence. Diaz put a copy of the original note on the table. “Two experts have matched this note to your handwriting.”

Decker said, “What happened, Mr. Martel? Did Ekerling go back on the recording deal?”

Martel’s eyes scanned Decker’s face. Then he became defiant. He shoved the note away. “Someone must be copyin’ my handwriting, nomasayin’? There weren’t no deal, and I don’t know Ekerling and that’s all I gotta say.”

Decker said, “With all this evidence and the witness we have, you’re going to look very bad in front of a jury. He’s not saying nice things about you.”

“Wha’ witness?”

Now was not the right time to mention Rudy Banks. First Decker wanted Travis to admit that he knew Ekerling. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“You mean Gerry?” Martel shook his head and smiled. “Shit, Gerry ain’t telling you nothin’ he hasn’t tole you before. Talk about smack, man. That’s total bullshit!”

“Who said it was Geraldo Perry who’s talking?” Decker looked at Garrett and Diaz. “Did I say anything about Geraldo Perry being a witness?”

“Nah, you didn’t say anything about Geraldo as a witness,” Diaz said.

“Perry wasn’t even part of the Ekerling hit,” Decker said. “He didn’t know what was flying. You just took him along for an alibi or maybe to help you chuck the body.”

“You be makin’ shit up, I don’t have to be here.”

“You want to go back to your cell?” Diaz asked him. “I can have someone take you back.”

“Or you can stick around a little longer and smoke another cigarette,” Garrett told him. “Up to you.”

Martel didn’t answer.

“If I’ve got it wrong, then tell me what happened,” Decker said. “But tell the truth.”

“I tole y’all like a million times, we boosted the car, we didn’t know nothin’ about no body in the trunk.”

Decker told him, “No one is going to believe that, Travis, especially once we show the judge and jury these CDs and your note to Ekerling in your own handwriting.”

Diaz said, “You knew Ekerling, Travis. That’s very clear.”

“What happened, Mr. Martel?” Decker asked. “Did Ekerling tell you he was going to produce your CD and then did he back out?”

“Y’all talkin’ shit and I ain’t got no more to say.”

Decker had a lot more to say. But first he needed Martel’s admission that he knew Ekerling. Six Pepsis, a pack of smokes, and three hours later, the magic moment came.