27 May 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day (3116) Part 3 | Prompt: garbage sandwich (bocadillo de basura)
Chapter 2: Recap (Interviewing Malvern Street: High-Rise Ambitions)
Veteran Officer Lindsey Hubert had stood on the cracked sidewalk of Malvern Street observing a grim corridor of frayed high-rises and worn duplexes. A neighborhood full of secrets. He was now tasked with interrogating the quirky tenants connected to a fatal shooting of a teen.
Inside the high-rise building, he spotted Bradley Buford's first-floor apartment unit, knocked, then gained entrance. Between bites of his garbage sandwich, Bradley wasted no time filling Officer Hubert in on happenings since his last visit. Officer Hubert's voice rose. "Bradley, I need you to focus on the fatal incident yesterday." He stifled the impulse to sneeze at the sauerkraut, then braced himself.
Bradley chuckled. "I've some donuts while you wait cause it's gonna be a long episode." Bradley paused between chews.
"Stop chewing and think. Yesterday afternoon. What did you see inside the high-rise, across the way at the duplexes, or down the alleyways?"
"Thursday nights are my usual grocery runs. I was rushing home because it was the season finale," Bradley mumbled, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for a camera crew. He continued slowly as if a suspicion of wire tapping was at play. "The dark-haired prince. He betrayed the family. I saw him take the briefcase of white powder. Then Victor stepped out from the shadows and delivered the final judgment. Boom. Cut to commercial."
Hubert leaned forward, his shadow swallowing Bradley whole. "Bradley, there is no Victor. There is no prince. You were walking from the supermarket when shots rang out all around you on Malvern Street, not sitting on your couch eating your garbage sandwich and watching Days of Our Lives.
Bradley shook his head violently as if waking from a nightmare. He stared at Hubert blankly.
"Did you see a real kid exit the high-rise and run toward the alley, then retreat because of someone chasing him? or are you giving me a plot summary from yesterday's TV guide?"
*Bradley blinked, a sudden flash of lucid terror breaking through his delusion. He dropped the sandwich crust. Blustering, he uttered, if this shit didn't happen in real life, they'd have nothing to entertain us with on the big screen. "The boy; he didn't have a briefcase. He had a backpack. It was torn. White powder was leaking out of the zipper. And it wasn't Victor who stepped out of the stairwell. It was Rosalinda Torres' kin." *
Bradley paused as if out of breath from imparting that tibit, then pointed toward the ceiling.
"She lives on the third floor. The one with the big boobs. Oh, and I forgot, the neck tattoo. It wasn't a scene from the episode. The boy was running for his life trying to get home." Bradley then pointed toward the duplexes. But the boy fell and didn't get back up. I rushed toward my building, got inside, and deadbolt the door. Now, they're gonna come for me. Five of them shooting like crazy. Different outfits they wore. It's a miracle I wasn't gunned down myself. "I'm in trouble, right? Now, I'm their prime witness. Do you need to take down my information so that I can enter your witness protection program?"
Hubert just stared in disbelief. Bradley wouldn't make a credible witness in anybody's court of law. He didn't answer that question, just stated sternly, looking Bradley in the face before clearing his throat. I can guess which one possessed the big boobs. But Rosalinda or the teen with the neck tattoo?" Hubert then lowered his head and kept writing.
"Both. They're cousins you see." Bradley jumped up and strolled over to the fridge to get a soda. He turned and asked politely, although he hoped Hubert would refuse. "I'd share my sandwich, but it's advertised as a buffet for one."
Hubert declined. He'd no intention of eating anything from Bradley's refrigerator. He left Bradley glued to the television, watching the trashy evening soap opera, blurring the dramas with the grim realities of Malvern Street. In the hallway, he shook his head and briefly wrote on the pad, noting Bradley’s erratic ramblings about backstabbing and secret heirs.
*Next, Officer Hubert crossed the hall to catch the elevator up to Rosalinda Torres' unit. But before he could close the door, Juan approached. He interrupted the elevator with his hand and foot. "I see you've taken a trip to the twilight zone, officer." Juan smiled as his eyes directed Hubert to Bradley's apartment. "Some helpful advice. You'll find all you need on the third floor. DON'T listen to her." *
Juan nodded good day, released the elevator door, and walked off as in a rush as Officer Hubert's ride to the third floor was filled with another twist.
Now, Part 3: (Interviewing Malvern Street: High-Rise Ambitions-Continued)
Officer Lindsey Hubert exited the elevator and immediately took stock of the third floor's layout. The stairwell's proximity to Rosalinda Torres' unit in particular. Cautiously, he approached her apartment. Before he could knock, Rosalinda swung open the door. "I've been expecting you, officer. I've nothing to hide."
An unusual greeting to say the least, Hubert pondered, as he had yet to speak or introduce himself, let alone accuse her of any wrongdoing.
He walked in. What a transformation! From the hallway, one would never guess the luxuries, to put it mildly, that resided in Apartment 3D alongside its tenant both Bradley and Juan viewed as a suspect.
That Hubert had a difficult time concentrating was an understatement. The thermostat ensured a comfortable respite from the outside heat. However, the temperature in the room seemed to rise the moment he fully assessed Rosalinda Torres.
He watched as Rosalinda stood in the middle of the living room with hands on her hips. With the flip of her wrist, she cocked her head to the side. Cranberry Stiletto Matte Lip Whip invited him to drown in its wearer. Long black tresses covered her shoulders but couldn't hide her wares if they wanted to. She wore a tight, low-cut crimson top exposing the neck tattoo. Jeans that looked painted on rounded out the outfit. But it was the four-inch stilettos that caused his pulse to skip a beat. An alluring female donning an outfit that screamed for attention in a building she obviously couldn't afford.
Nothing but his knees went weak, so he asked to sit.
Hubert placed his pad over his legs as his gaze involuntarily drop to her exposed bosom. He forced his eyes back up to her face, clearing his throat roughly to mask the momentary lapse in professionalism.
"Sit down, Rosalinda," Hubert said, his voice tighter than usual. She sat, crossing her legs slowly, fully aware of the effect she had on the room.
Rosalinda's job she mentioned and other information willingly provided clearly didn’t explain how she could afford the exorbitant monthly rent in the high-rise. She watched as Hubert surveyed the interior with a discerning eye. If any conclusion was made, he gave no indication.
She rose suddenly and strode over to the window, peering down at the sidewalk as if expecting to see someone.
"I need to know you and your cousin's involvement in the killing of that teen yesterday."
"I'm not involved with that messy business," she stated matter-of-fact while still looking out the window. "My understanding was that the teen was shot over a drug dispute. My cousin is a grown man as far as I'm concerned. I'm not his parent. He told me he was merely defending himself. You know the workings on Malvern Street. I'm not going to do your job for you. I'm just a single woman trying to make it in this city. You have nothing on me. I'm clean. So look elsewhere for suspects. If I'm in trouble Officer, please tell me."
Hubert watched her from behind as she switched positions, roving her hips in tandem, then bending over on the windowsill.
He rose, bid her goodbye, and left.
Outside in the hallway, Hubert bumped into Juan, sensing their second meeting was no accident. If Juan thought he'd gain information about Rosalinda's conversation, he was sadly mistaken.
"How did your interview with Rosalinda go? Juan rushed to ask as if actually expecting Hubert to divulge any content of their conversation.
"As well as could be expected," was Hubert's response, offering no additional insight. On his suspect list, he'd already categorized Rosalinda.
"I know you're not allowed to say, but she's an eye full, isn't she?" Juan smirked. No response, so he continued, "she likes the attention and thinks she's untouchable, but there are plenty of men who can take her down a notch."
Hubert paused, then offered. "If you think you're just the fella to do it, then by all means proceed. Don't be surprised if you're slapped with a restraining order."
Officer Hubert stared at Juan, then turned and stepped outside the Malvern St. Condominiums. His concern now was to determine if Juan was blinded by incessant jealousy over Rosalinda's rejection or if he held vital information about the murder. He noted on his pad with a question why Juan kept intercepting him.
Hubert motioned to Officer Travis Ingram to remain stationed at the high-rise before heading across the street toward the Duplex Habitat.
He had chosen the Duplex Habitat as his temporary command post. Although it smelt like cooking grease and old desperation, he'd encountered worse.
Besides, his instinct told him that the truth resided there among those whose everyday survival depended on what did or didn't happen on Malvern Street. A nod or wink in the right direction brought temporary financial relief to many. Discreetness was their salvation.
[to be continued]
For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the 
12 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3132: buffet for one'
26 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3146: I’m in trouble; and
25 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3145: listen to her!
El agente Lindsey Hubert salió del ascensor y enseguida evaluó la distribución de la tercera planta. En concreto, la proximidad de la escalera al piso de Rosalinda Torres. Con cautela, se acercó a su apartamento. Antes de que pudiera llamar a la puerta, Rosalinda la abrió de par en par. «Le estaba esperando, agente. No tengo nada que ocultar».
Un saludo inusual, por decirlo suavemente, pensó Hubert, ya que aún no había hablado ni se había presentado, y mucho menos la había acusado de ningún delito.
Entró. ¡Menuda transformación! Desde el pasillo, nadie habría imaginado los lujos —por decirlo suavemente— que albergaba el piso 3D, junto con su inquilina, a quien tanto Bradley como Juan consideraban sospechosa.
Decir que a Hubert le costaba concentrarse era quedarse corto. El termostato garantizaba un respiro agradable del calor exterior. Sin embargo, la temperatura de la habitación pareció subir en el momento en que evaluó por completo a Rosalinda Torres.
Observó cómo Rosalinda se plantaba en medio del salón con las manos en las caderas. Con un rápido movimiento de muñeca, ladeó la cabeza hacia un lado. El pintalabios «Cranberry Stiletto Matte Lip Whip» le invitaba a perderse en quien lo llevaba. Una larga melena negra le cubría los hombros, pero ni siquiera eso habría podido ocultar sus atributos aunque hubiera querido. Llevaba un top carmesí ajustado y escotado que dejaba al descubierto el tatuaje del cuello. Unos vaqueros que parecían pintados sobre ella completaban el conjunto. Pero fueron los tacones de aguja de cuatro pulgadas los que le hicieron saltarse un latido. Una mujer seductora que lucía un atuendo que llamaba la atención en un edificio que, evidentemente, no podía permitirse.
Lo único que le falló fueron las rodillas, así que pidió sentarse.
Hubert se colocó el bloc sobre las piernas mientras su mirada se desviaba involuntariamente hacia el escote que ella lucía. Obligó a sus ojos a volver a su rostro y carraspeó con brusquedad para disimular ese momento de falta de profesionalidad.
—Siéntate, Rosalinda —dijo Hubert, con la voz más tensa de lo habitual. Ella se sentó, cruzando las piernas lentamente, plenamente consciente del efecto que causaba en la habitación.
El trabajo de Rosalinda, tal y como ella misma había mencionado, y el resto de la información que había facilitado de buen grado, claramente no explicaban cómo podía permitirse el exorbitante alquiler mensual de aquel rascacielos. Observó cómo Hubert examinaba el interior con mirada perspicaz. Si llegó a alguna conclusión, no lo dejó entrever.
Se levantó de repente y se dirigió a grandes zancadas hacia la ventana, asomándose a la acera como si esperara ver a alguien.
—Necesito saber qué implicación tenéis tú y tu primo en el asesinato de ese adolescente de ayer.
«No tengo nada que ver con ese lío», afirmó con tono pragmático sin apartar la mirada de la ventana. «Tengo entendido que al adolescente le dispararon por una disputa relacionada con las drogas. Por lo que a mí respecta, mi primo es un hombre adulto. No soy su madre. Me dijo que simplemente se estaba defendiendo. Ya sabes cómo funcionan las cosas en Malvern Street. No voy a hacer tu trabajo por ti. Solo soy una mujer soltera que intenta salir adelante en esta ciudad. No tienes nada contra mí. Estoy limpia. Así que busca sospechosos en otra parte. Si estoy en problemas, agente, por favor, dígamelo».
Hubert la observó desde atrás mientras ella cambiaba de postura, balanceando las caderas al mismo tiempo, y luego se inclinaba sobre el alféizar de la ventana.
Se levantó, se despidió de ella y se marchó.
Fuera, en el pasillo, Hubert se topó con Juan, intuyendo que su segundo encuentro no había sido una casualidad. Si Juan pensaba que iba a obtener información sobre la conversación con Rosalinda, estaba muy equivocado.
«¿Cómo te ha ido la entrevista con Rosalinda?», se apresuró a preguntar Juan, como si realmente esperara que Hubert le revelara algún detalle de su conversación.
«Tan bien como cabía esperar», respondió Hubert, sin dar más detalles. En su lista de sospechosos, ya había clasificado a Rosalinda.
«Sé que no puedes decirlo, pero es todo un espectáculo, ¿verdad?», comentó Juan con una sonrisa burlona. Al no obtener respuesta, continuó: «Le gusta llamar la atención y se cree intocable, pero hay muchos hombres capaces de bajarle los humos».
Hubert se detuvo un momento y luego dijo: «Si crees que eres el tipo indicado para hacerlo, adelante. No te sorprendas si te imponen una orden de alejamiento».
El agente Hubert se quedó mirando a Juan, luego se dio la vuelta y salió de los apartamentos de Malvern St. Su preocupación ahora era determinar si Juan estaba cegado por unos celos incesantes debido al rechazo de Rosalinda o si poseía información vital sobre el asesinato. Anotó en su bloc, con un signo de interrogación, por qué Juan no dejaba de interceptarle.
Hubert le indicó al agente Travis Ingram que permaneciera apostado en el rascacielos antes de cruzar la calle hacia el «Duplex Habitat».
Había elegido el «Duplex Habitat» como su puesto de mando temporal. Aunque olía a grasa de cocina y a vieja desesperación, había visto cosas peores.
Además, su instinto le decía que la verdad se encontraba allí, entre aquellos cuya supervivencia diaria dependía de lo que sucediera o no en Malvern Street. Un gesto con la cabeza o un guiño en la dirección adecuada proporcionaba un respiro económico temporal a muchos. La discreción era su salvación.
[continuará]
Para mi tema, me inspiré y utilicé la publicación de
12 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3132: buffet for one;
26 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3146: I’m in trouble; and
25 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3145: listen to her!.
Good luck everyone with whatever your endeavors.
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