"OFF THE RECORD"

 

By Judy Omega

 

 

PROLOGUE

Okay, I said I didn't have time to write right now, but I just can't get
that murder "mystery" out of my head [a testament to the *much*
improved writing I've seen on GH lately], and the idea that I'd love
for Dorman's murder to facilitate Sonny's exit in a tragic way.
(BTW, I like Sonny and *love* MB, but if he does have to leave GH,
I'd love to see him leave in a dramatic swan-song...)
Since I'm trying to move to another state, and don't have the time
to devote to another QED-length story, I've decided to tell the tale
in retrospect, and shorten it considerably. There'll probably be
only one or two more parts to come after this one...

BTW, I made up a lot of stuff about Alex Garcia's past. It has been
established on GH that his father was a criminal, however...

And I hope "santo" means "saint" in Spanish. I've already packed
my Spanish/English dictionary. If not, feel free to substitute the
appropriate word...

Using some Spanish I *do* remember: Muchas gracias to Rebecca
(aka Rebel) for posting this for me to the PCOnline fanfic page.
Thanks again!

-----------------

"Off the Record"

It felt strange surrendering his revolver. It felt even stranger when
they frisked him. He glanced around at the gray, dingy walls.
Cold concrete wrapping him in a small box. Solid, unforgiving
floors echoing with guilt. Old guilt.

He thought back to the last time he was here. His friends listened
in awe as he bragged about how the guards searched him for
weapons, as if he were the most dangerous kid alive. But what he
didn't tell them was how he cried when his mother put the divorce
papers in that little drawer and slid them over to his father.

"Are you going to Hell, Mama?" he'd asked, remembering hearing
someone say that divorce was a sin.

"No Alex," she replied. And then, in a voice she thought too soft
for him to hear she continued: "... but I think your father is..."

He followed the guard to the visiting area, where a long row of
chairs held a number of people speaking half-dialogues, some
caressing the black phone receiver as if it were the embodiment of
the second, unheard voice. The guard gestured at a vacant chair
and Alex sat down obediently. He glanced nervously at the
security camera, and wondered if any of the other visitors felt as
guilty as he did. Prisons seemed to have that effect on everyone.
Or maybe it wasn't the prison at all...

Alex didn't recognize him at first. He looked very different in that
drab uniform, allowing himself to be led around by that guard like
a well-trained puppy. He paused as he entered the large room,
exhaling the stale air of his small cell, relaxing muscles previously
tensed by claustrophobia.

Having visitors must be the highlight of his day, Alex thought. Too
bad I'm not the visitor he had in mind.

When the prisoner approached the phone and saw who was
waiting for him, Alex didn't need to hold the receiver to his ear to
understand the commotion on the other side of the glass.

"I'm not talkin' to him!"

"Fine, we'll just walk on back to your cell..."

Alex saw the look of defiance change to panic, and then
acquiescence.

"Okay," he said, sinking into the chair, and then looking back at
the guard. "Just leave us alone, will ya?"

The guard retreated into the background, and Sonny Corinthos
picked up the black phone.

"So, Garcia," he said. "Did you come to gloat?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

There was a long pause.

"I need to know some things... off the record, of course." he said, at
last.

Sonny leaned back in his chair. "On the record, off the record...
doesn't matter to me. My life is an open book to you, Detective."
He tugged at the gray fabric of his uniform. "I'm just another no-
good criminal that you put away in your never-ending quest to
make the world a better place."

Alex's passive face absorbed the barb, but Sonny could hear him
sigh into the receiver. "You know this was not how I wanted it to
happen..."

Sonny swirled his index finger in the air, indicating the room
around him. "Yeah, but this was the end result you wanted, wasn't
it? What's the matter? Did my confession spoil your cat and
mouse game?"

Alex shook his head. "That's not what I meant..."

"Of course it is! Don Sonny Corinthos, comes off lookin' like a
hero, sacrificing himself to save his woman, while Detective Santo
Alejandro Garcia winds up playing the villain, locking up the brave
vigilante." Sonny leaned forward tapped lightly on the glass. "So,
how does it feel to have all those upstanding citizens of Port
Charles lookin' at you like you are lower than dirt?"

Another pause. Sonny could tell Alex was ready to leave, and
was immediately sorry he had pushed so hard. Sonny looked
down the length of the room, bathing in the illusion of space for a
moment longer. But to his surprise, Alex didn't move from his
chair.

"You don't think that you deserve to be in jail, do you?" he said.
"You think after all those years of running strip joints filled with
underaged girls and laundering millions of dollars of dirty money
that you should have been able to retire to that little farm of yours
and fertilize the soil with the all the bodies that you and your
buddies have buried over the years..."

Sonny leaned back and smiled. "Yeah, but that's not why I'm in
here, is it? And that's what's driving you crazy."

Alex looked down at the white formica surface in front of him.
"Maybe..."

"You know that's it! Now Taggert, he woulda gladly put me away
for gunning down Saddam Hussein during the Gulf War. He was
lookin' for any excuse. But not you .... you wanted to be the good
cop. The clean cop. You wanted to bring down the big bad crime
boss and make your Momma proud of you." Sonny met Alex's
cold gaze through the glass. "It would be like sendin' your Daddy
up the river all over again..."

Sonny smiled at the shocked look on Garcia's face. "Yeah. That's
right, Garcia. A prison is like a small town, and it was only a
matter of time before I discovered why your last name carried so
much weight in this place. Should I give your old man your
regards? I've come to know him pretty well. He seems like a
swell guy."

Alex straightened in his chair. "Yes, I suppose you two have a lot
in common. I'm sure he feels closer to you than he ever did to
me."

"And why shouldn't he? I'm not the one who testified against
him..."

"I was nine years old..."

"But he was your *father*, for god's sake."

"What kind of a father would kill a man right in front of his son?
What kind of a husband would lie to his wife and children about
what he did for a living? And what kind of a man would put
everyone he loved in danger so he could pursue his own selfish
goals..."

Silence. It was as if the phone were suddenly disconnected, and
all that remained was a faint hiss of static.

"What is it you want to know?" Sonny asked, finally.

"I want to know if you killed Pierce Dorman. I want to know what
really happened that night."

"Now why would you think that I didn't kill Dorman?" Sonny said,
allowing himself another smile. "Don't you trust my word?"

"It's not that I don't believe that you could've killed him," Alex
replied. "You certainly had the motive and the opportunity. I went
through Taggert's files and found your accusation against Dorman
saying that he shot you up with heroin."

"Yeah, Taggert could've stopped Dorman back then, if he had
bothered to investigate that little incident, but he just didn't feel it
was worth his time."

"Well, I'm not going to debate that issue with you, Corinthos. I was
on leave at the time..."

"Can you honestly say that you would have treated that case any
differently? Knowing that it involved me?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know. But what I do know is that
there wasn't a scrap of solid evidence that supported your
confession, and if you had kept your mouth shut, you wouldn't be
in here."

"Maybe I just couldn't live with that secret..."

Alex laughed. "You built an entire career out of secrets.
This one shoulda been easy to keep. You killed a drug-peddling
scumbag... so what? Surely that wasn't the worst of your past
deeds."

"So now you're sure I killed him..."

Alex sighed. "There are two things that led me to believe that you
could be the killer. One: That strand of Brenda's hair that we
found on the victim. And two: The fact that she substituted her hair
for yours to be tested, not knowing that hers would be the match."

"That's why you arrested me to begin with..."

"Yeah. At the time, we thought the sample had come from you.
But when your lawyer insisted we redo the analysis, it wasn't a
match. That sample had to come from Brenda. She was the only
other person with you at the time."

"That's when you searched her car and arrested her."

"What else was I supposed to do? The murder weapon was in her
car. Look, just because I might believe that someone is innocent,
doesn't mean that I can ignore damning evidence like that..."

"So you never really thought she was guilty."

"Of course not! It made no sense for her to keep the murder
weapon in her possession. Look, I may not think much of Brenda
Barrett's powers of intellect when it comes to selecting
significant others, but I know she's a lot smarter than that.
Someone was obviously setting her up. And it made no sense for
her to switch the hair samples. She honestly thought her hair
would not match the one found on the victim because she *knew*
she wasn't the one who killed Dorman. I figured her hair came off
of your suit. After all, you two were practically inseparable before
the lights went out."

Sonny tucked the phone under his ear and started to clap his
hands in half-hearted applause. "Congratulations, Detective. I
guess you earned your badge after all. Okay, so this places me at
the crime scene, so why do you doubt my story?"

"Because Brenda's hair could've gotten on Dorman's jacket
anytime. Both you and she had confrontations with him before the
murder..."

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how Rebecca Chase's statement
corroborated with my confession. She didn't even know I was in
the room when she decided to play Doctor with Dorman's corpse.
I guess when she found that plane ticket for *one*
passenger, she realized what a lying SOB her boyfriend was. She
really proved that 'hell hath no fury', eh?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Oh god, don't get me started on Rebecca
Chase. She and the Quartermaines did more to muck up that
investigation than any smokescreen you could've concocted."

Sonny smiled. "Yeah. Chase was something else. She was the
consummate medical professional; even thought to put on gloves
and a lab coat before she started her 'operation'. But she sure as
hell knew nothing about covering her tracks. When she realized
what she was doing, she ran outta there without so much as a
backwards glance, and then was stupid enough to ditch the lab
coat and gloves on the premises."

Alex looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are you sure Dorman was
dead when Rebecca walked in? He had that button from her
sweater in his hand. How could that have happened if he were
already dead?"

"Look. I've had more than enough experience throwing sharp
objects and I *know* I hit my mark. Dorman was dead before he
hit the floor. That button must've fallen off her sweater when she
was leaning over him. I just put it in a more obvious place before I
left the scene ... y'know... to help you guys out."

"Help like that I didn't need, Corinthos, although it did help get your
girlfriend off the hook. Once we found the lab coat with the
matching navy blue threads from Chase's sweater, it was pretty
clear who planted the scalpel in Brenda's car. After all, Brenda
had denounced Dorman to Chase in front of witnesses. She
would have been the best choice for a frameup." Alex slumped
back in his chair, as if the conversation were tiring him. "I also
didn't need Monica and Emily Quartermaine further confusing the
issue..."

Sonny expression sobered. "How's Emily doing, anyway? I heard
she was pretty broken up about the whole thing."

"I guess she's gonna be all right. She underwent some kind of
hypnosis therapy to help her remember what happened.
Apparently, she freaked out when she saw Dorman lying there in a
pool of blood. I think she thought her mother or father must've
done it. She had been carrying around this scalpel from the OR,
and planted it in Dorman's chest, hoping to draw suspicion away
from her parents. Then of course, Monica came in, assumed the
worst when she saw Emily's locket on the floor and took it and that
scalpel, getting Dorman's blood on her sleeve in the process. That
blonde hair we found on the body was hers." Alex sighed. "By that
time, the crime scene was so screwed up, I don't think we could've
gotten a conviction outta any of the suspects...." He stared
through the glass at Corinthos' impassive features. "...including
you."

Sonny smiled. "Well then, I guess my confession made things a lot
easier for you..."

Alex leaned forward and ground his index finger into the formica
desk. "Your confession made no *sense*! When I confronted
Rebecca Chase with the button and the labcoat, she broke down
and confessed to planting that scalpel in Brenda Barrett's car
*and* to carving up Dorman. We were about to release Brenda as
a suspect and you *knew* it! Look, Chase was a disturbed woman
and definitely *not* a professional criminal. It didn't surprise me in
the least when she caved. I figured she was lying when she said
Dorman was already dead by the time she got there. I thought it
would only be a matter of days before she confessed to killing him,
too."

"Yeah, but I was there!" Sonny replied. "I know she didn't kill him.
Look, here's how it went down: I walked in on Dorman, who was
looking at one of the corpses in the morgue. I had already figured
he was going to smuggle the drugs out of the hospital with some
patient, 'cause that's the way he got them into Port Charles in the
first place. Dorman saw my reflection in the metal door, so I knew I
had to act fast. I grabbed a scalpel off an instrument tray and
nailed him. Then, I opened the same door and pulled out the
corpse, hoping to find his stash, and that's when I heard Chase's
footsteps. I barely had time to close the body drawer and hide
before she arrived."

Garcia rested his head against his free hand. "Y'know, at this
point, I don't even *care* if you were there or not! I wanna know
what you were trying to accomplish with your confession. Brenda
was out of danger! Chase meant nothing to you! After all those
years of being a professional criminal, you choose Pierce Dorman
as your martyr's cross? Do you think the time you're doing now is
worth his miserable life?"

Sonny smiled. "Well, it's sure buggin' the hell outta you, isn't it?"
He leaned in conspiratorially. "Maybe that was my plan all
along..."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt that I rank high enough on
your list of irritants to warrant this kind of sacrifice."

"Don't sell yourself short, Alex. I've always found you very
irritating." Sonny glanced up at the clock and frowned. Visiting
time would be over soon. He could feel his palms start to sweat at
the thought of returning to his cell. "You've never talked to your
father since he went to prison, have you?"

"No."

"Haven't you ever wondered why he staged a hit right in front of
you? I mean, your father was a professional hit man, he coulda
'offed that guy anywhere. Hell, you said yourself he'd been lying
about his line of work for years and your family didn't know about
it. Why do you think he shot that guy when he knew you were
watching?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was trying to impress me, or something."

Sonny laughed. "Impress you! I'd say he failed miserably,
*Detective* Garcia." He shook his head. "Geez for a smart guy,
you sometimes have to have things spelled out for you."

"So you're telling me that my father did that on purpose, that he
was trying to teach me some kind of life lesson by having me
witness his crime and punishment."

"Well it worked, didn't it?" Sonny reached forward and tapped on
the glass. "You're still sitting on the right side of this glass. As a
matter of fact, he accomplished two goals that day. Look, your dad
and I both know that there are only three possible retirement plans
in our line of work." Sonny paused for a moment, reconsidering.
"Make that two plans: prison or death. I was gonna mention the
Witness Protection Program, but that usually ends up leading to
the second plan, since the Fibbies don't give a damn about
squealers, and the mob is a lot more efficient at finding people
than the FBI is at losing them."

"So you and my father opted for early retirement..."

"You could say that." Sonny reached into his pocket and pulled
out what looked like a dry-cleaning ticket.

"What's that?" asked Alex.

Sonny slipped the tag into the drawer and pushed it over to
Garcia. "It's your proof, Detective. Proof that you locked up the
right guy."

Garcia reached into the drawer and pulled out the toe tag from the
heroin-bearing corpse in the morgue.

"See?" said Sonny. "I told you I was there. That thing caught on
my sleeve button when I closed the drawer. I didn't even realize it
was hanging there 'till the lights came back on. I barely had time
to slip it into my pocket before someone noticed."

Alex stared at the small piece of paper. "This would never hold up
in court, you know. It was improperly obtained and it still doesn't
prove that you threw that scalpel."

"Yeah, that's true," Sonny agreed. "But that's all you've got. That,
and my word... for what it's worth."

Alex looked back at Sonny. "I suppose I should say 'thank you',
but I can't help but think that you had an ulterior motive in this
case... Brenda Barrett."

Sonny's expression softened, and his posture ebbed with his sigh.
"Yeah... Brenda. I love her, you know. I think she's the only
reason I'm still alive in this shoebox. But she was never gonna let
go of that dream of a normal life. And she was never gonna let go
of me. I couldn't ask her to live my way. I couldn't ask her to take
that risk. She just didn't understand how dangerous things were
for us. When I found out that she had switched her hair sample for
mine, I realized that it was only a matter of time before she got
caught up in all of my personal fallout.... just like..."

"Like Lily?"

"Yeah... just like Lily."

Alex withdrew a small photograph out of his pocket. He placed it
in the drawer and slid it over to Sonny. "Lily's a lot smarter than
you thought," he said. "She was raised with the mob. She
understood a lot of things."

Sonny stared at the photograph. The baby wasn't more than a few
months old, but the resemblance was unmistakable. He flipped the
picture over and read the name on the back: Michael Alejandro
Garcia. He quickly wiped his tears before they could fall onto the
picture. "Well," he said, "at least she got the first name right."

Alex shifted in his chair, preparing to leave. He saw Sonny start to
put the photograph back in the drawer and he blocked it with his
hand. "No Sonny," he said. "You keep that. You put that in your
cell and look at him every time you get the urge to hang yourself.
Then you call your lawyer and have him appeal your sentence.
With all the dirt that's been dug up on Dorman, you oughta be able
to get out in three-to-five, with good behavior."

"Why are you doing this?"

Garcia held up the toe tag. "Let's just say that I owe you one."

"You know that it'll be the same old game when I get outta here.
I'm not ready for the second retirement plan yet..."

Alex looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll have to ask Lily about
that. I'll bet she'll have some ideas. She's got a couple of years to
think about it.."

"Your marriage isn't valid, you know. She never got a divorce from
me. You're breaking the law, Detective."

Alex smiled. "Technically, I'm not the one breaking the law. She
is." He shrugged his shoulders. "But I'm not about to arrest her."

Sonny laughed. "I'm proud of you, Garcia."

Alex stared at the receiver in his hand, as if it had just
malfunctioned. "I'd better go before hell freezes over," he
muttered.

Alex replaced the receiver in its cradle and walked away. Sonny
watched him leave the room, his gait smooth and unrestricted. He
felt the guard's hand on his shoulder and he tensed, knowing
where his path was going to lead. He looked down the long
corridor that led to his cell and then glanced at the dark eyes of the
little boy in the photograph. "For you..." he said, as he tucked the
photo into his pocket. And then he rose to follow the guard down
the hall.

The End

 

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