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His mother always told him that it was impolite to stare, but in this case, it didn t make a difference.
So Decker studied the man sitting across his desk, taking in his well-manicured appearance.
Brett Harriman was nicely appointed. He wore an unstructured natural linen jacket over a blue
button-down and designer jeans. His sandals showed off his manicured toes, which matched his
manicured hands. His hair was dark and shaggy, his face long and lean. He wore dark shades that
not only covered his eyes but most of his eyebrows. The only giveaway to his visual impairment was
a slight swinging of his head that helped his ears zero in on sound stereoscopically.
Decker tapped his pen on his desktop. First of all, Mr. Harriman, I want to thank you for coming in
and sharing your information with me.
It s Brett and no thanks are necessary. It s my obligation. If people didn t do jury duty, I wouldn t
have a job. A few seconds ticked by. Well, that s not true. When you re fluent in as many
languages as I am, there s always work.
How many languages would that be?
A lot. Mostly the romance and Anglo-Saxon languages.
How d you learn them?
Harriman shrugged. Some I studied, some I picked up on tapes. Finnish and Hungarian I learned
with intense tutoring. Also I travel a lot. The only way to really learn a language is to hear and speak
it. Another pause. Are you asking me these questions to size me up, to get rapport, or because
you re interested in me as a person?
Probably all three, Decker said.
I m not a nutcase. I ve been with the courts for almost five years.
How d you come to work for the courts?
Another personal question? Harriman gave Decker a white-toothed smile as he tilted his head to
the right. Aren t you trying to solve a murder?
Murders, actually. How d you come to work for the courts?
A friend of mine who works downtown told me that the courts were hiring witness translators.
Mostly for Spanish but other languages, too. I applied and that was that.
They weren t bothered by your blindness?
Harriman grinned. I wore tinted glasses. I don t think they knew until later. Besides, they would
never fire me. I help their federally mandated numbers in hiring the handicapped. I m also damn
good at my job!
Where were you working before the courts?
I was a patient translator for six different hospitals. The job was getting a little monotonous. How
many times can you translate take two of these pills for regular bowel movements ? The pause was
awkward. It was more than that. It was hard day after day delivering bad news.
That s miserable.
Depressing as hell. Lucky for me I never had to look at the eyes of a patient who just got the news.
I sure as hell heard it in the voice. And it didn t take me long to learn if the doctor was feeding
bullshit, letting the patient or the families cling to hope when I could tell by the nuances in his voice
that Tia Anabel was a goner.
Decker said, There s a police detective in the Netherlands. He s blind. They use him to decipher
accents and voices like terrorists. He can tell the origin of the speaker even if he or she is speaking
fluent and unaccented Dutch.
Nobody speaks unaccented anything. Harriman rocked his head to the other side There are
always giveaways if you know what to listen for.
Could you ever see?
I still can see. You see with your brain, not with your eyes. But there was a time I was sighted. I
was five when I lost my sight from a rhabdomyosarcoma bilateral tumors. He tapped his foot on
the floor. Are you interested in what I told you or do you still think that it s worthless?
You re confusing worthlessness with a healthy dose of skepticism. I m very interested in what
you ve told me, Mr. Harriman. If you don t mind, let s go over it again.
The blind man gave an exasperated sigh. It s Brett, and I told you everything I know. The story s
not going to change.
But maybe my perception will. Please?
He waited a few moments, then he said, I was standing around the waiting area of the courtrooms
eating a power bar. Two Hispanic guys were talking about the Coyote Ranch murders. One of the
guys was from Mexico, the other from El Salvador. They kept on calling the victim Mr. Café because
Kaffey is coffee in Spanish. Then they segued into talking about a guy named José Pinon who had
gone missing and that the boss was looking for him in Mexico. Are you writing this down again? I
can hear your pen scratching.
Decker said. Just squaring what I wrote the first time against what you re saying now. You said
then that the Mexican was doing most of the talking.
That s correct. The Mexican said that the boss was looking for José. He the boss was very mad at
José because he fucked up. And he fucked up by running out of bullets. A pause. Does that mean
anything to you?
Damn straight it does. José Pinon translates to Joe Pine. Decker said, It could. Go on.
So José ran out of bullets, Harriman said. So the El Salvadorian asked the Mexican why someone
else didn t finish him off. And the Mexican said because José is a retard. Then he said Martin was
very angry. Both agreed that Martin was a very bad man, but not as bad as the boss whoever that
is. They also both agreed that José was a dead man. At that point, I felt very uncomfortable
eavesdropping. The way that the two of them were speaking& it sounded authentic. When I got
home that night, I looked up the murders on my computer& It s voice activated, in case you re
wondering.
I figured.
The son& Gil Kaffey& he was shot but he survived. I may be assuming too much but I surmised that
they had been talking about Gil Kaffey and that José hadn t made sure that Gil was dead. Harriman [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
His mother always told him that it was impolite to stare, but in this case, it didn t make a difference.
So Decker studied the man sitting across his desk, taking in his well-manicured appearance.
Brett Harriman was nicely appointed. He wore an unstructured natural linen jacket over a blue
button-down and designer jeans. His sandals showed off his manicured toes, which matched his
manicured hands. His hair was dark and shaggy, his face long and lean. He wore dark shades that
not only covered his eyes but most of his eyebrows. The only giveaway to his visual impairment was
a slight swinging of his head that helped his ears zero in on sound stereoscopically.
Decker tapped his pen on his desktop. First of all, Mr. Harriman, I want to thank you for coming in
and sharing your information with me.
It s Brett and no thanks are necessary. It s my obligation. If people didn t do jury duty, I wouldn t
have a job. A few seconds ticked by. Well, that s not true. When you re fluent in as many
languages as I am, there s always work.
How many languages would that be?
A lot. Mostly the romance and Anglo-Saxon languages.
How d you learn them?
Harriman shrugged. Some I studied, some I picked up on tapes. Finnish and Hungarian I learned
with intense tutoring. Also I travel a lot. The only way to really learn a language is to hear and speak
it. Another pause. Are you asking me these questions to size me up, to get rapport, or because
you re interested in me as a person?
Probably all three, Decker said.
I m not a nutcase. I ve been with the courts for almost five years.
How d you come to work for the courts?
Another personal question? Harriman gave Decker a white-toothed smile as he tilted his head to
the right. Aren t you trying to solve a murder?
Murders, actually. How d you come to work for the courts?
A friend of mine who works downtown told me that the courts were hiring witness translators.
Mostly for Spanish but other languages, too. I applied and that was that.
They weren t bothered by your blindness?
Harriman grinned. I wore tinted glasses. I don t think they knew until later. Besides, they would
never fire me. I help their federally mandated numbers in hiring the handicapped. I m also damn
good at my job!
Where were you working before the courts?
I was a patient translator for six different hospitals. The job was getting a little monotonous. How
many times can you translate take two of these pills for regular bowel movements ? The pause was
awkward. It was more than that. It was hard day after day delivering bad news.
That s miserable.
Depressing as hell. Lucky for me I never had to look at the eyes of a patient who just got the news.
I sure as hell heard it in the voice. And it didn t take me long to learn if the doctor was feeding
bullshit, letting the patient or the families cling to hope when I could tell by the nuances in his voice
that Tia Anabel was a goner.
Decker said, There s a police detective in the Netherlands. He s blind. They use him to decipher
accents and voices like terrorists. He can tell the origin of the speaker even if he or she is speaking
fluent and unaccented Dutch.
Nobody speaks unaccented anything. Harriman rocked his head to the other side There are
always giveaways if you know what to listen for.
Could you ever see?
I still can see. You see with your brain, not with your eyes. But there was a time I was sighted. I
was five when I lost my sight from a rhabdomyosarcoma bilateral tumors. He tapped his foot on
the floor. Are you interested in what I told you or do you still think that it s worthless?
You re confusing worthlessness with a healthy dose of skepticism. I m very interested in what
you ve told me, Mr. Harriman. If you don t mind, let s go over it again.
The blind man gave an exasperated sigh. It s Brett, and I told you everything I know. The story s
not going to change.
But maybe my perception will. Please?
He waited a few moments, then he said, I was standing around the waiting area of the courtrooms
eating a power bar. Two Hispanic guys were talking about the Coyote Ranch murders. One of the
guys was from Mexico, the other from El Salvador. They kept on calling the victim Mr. Café because
Kaffey is coffee in Spanish. Then they segued into talking about a guy named José Pinon who had
gone missing and that the boss was looking for him in Mexico. Are you writing this down again? I
can hear your pen scratching.
Decker said. Just squaring what I wrote the first time against what you re saying now. You said
then that the Mexican was doing most of the talking.
That s correct. The Mexican said that the boss was looking for José. He the boss was very mad at
José because he fucked up. And he fucked up by running out of bullets. A pause. Does that mean
anything to you?
Damn straight it does. José Pinon translates to Joe Pine. Decker said, It could. Go on.
So José ran out of bullets, Harriman said. So the El Salvadorian asked the Mexican why someone
else didn t finish him off. And the Mexican said because José is a retard. Then he said Martin was
very angry. Both agreed that Martin was a very bad man, but not as bad as the boss whoever that
is. They also both agreed that José was a dead man. At that point, I felt very uncomfortable
eavesdropping. The way that the two of them were speaking& it sounded authentic. When I got
home that night, I looked up the murders on my computer& It s voice activated, in case you re
wondering.
I figured.
The son& Gil Kaffey& he was shot but he survived. I may be assuming too much but I surmised that
they had been talking about Gil Kaffey and that José hadn t made sure that Gil was dead. Harriman [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]