Episode 4 - Interrogation

“Marie?”

He calls, then pointed out. “You’re day dreaming.”

The

voice pulled her out of the sudden flashback; she blinks when the row of chairs

and the aisle went out of her sight, changed into a small white hospital room

and the occupied bed. She wondering what triggered those memory. But pushed

aside those question for another time. She walk towards William, pulled a chair

beside the bed, and sat there.

William

turns his face towards her, eyes looked incredibly green today. The tighness

around his mouth softened into a small boyish grin—it is still there; a trace

of his little brother. Marie can’t help but smile too.

“So,

why I should stay in the hospital?” He asked, curiousity bright in his eyes.

“The

wounds teared up, and infected. You should stay at least untill the fever eased

up.” At these explanation, William’s right hand slipped out from underneath the

blanket. There’s a needle stuck inside the back of his hand covered with

bandages, connected to an infus with a small pipe. He didn’t even wince when

the pipe is pulled while he move—almost like he don’t feel it—must be the pain

killer.

“Cold,”

He said, hand touched his own forehead.

Marie

snorted, then laughed. For a second, its slmost like William never left home.

-----

A

shiny black Cheevy Impala enter the police station ground with a soft hummimg

sound, and park itself beside a few police cars. Jeffrey waste no time to exit

his car and walk with hurried steps across the small court that streched

between the parking lot and the office building. His shoes tapping impatiently

on the still cold pavement.

“Morning,”

He calls as he enters the front loby. There’s nobody there; the police station

didn’t officially start the daily activity until 8 am—it’s still 7 past 30

minutes, according to his wrist watch. But the floor is clean, and slightly

wet; meaning somebody is here and have been doing cleaning recently. To support

this assumptiom; he heard a muffled sound of conversation from another section

of the building in his right, and decide to check it out.

Jeffrey

brought up his hand to knock on the door. The conversation noise from the other

side died down. The door swaying open, before Jefrey even touch the knob.

The

detective is facing Warren—in a casual attire that belong to these university

kids hanging out in the caffe nearby. Which is a quite unusual sight, except—

“Shouldn’t

you be on leave?” The entire gaze—eight eyes, four person—is focusing on him.

“You married like—yesteday?” Jeffrey elaborate.

Warren

facepalmed when he started to mention marriage and yesterday in one sentence.

The incident; bell, corpse, marriage.

Ok,

got it, probably shouldn’t bring it up.

“I

was married months ago; yesterday was just the celebration party.” A disastrous

one—but nobody had the gut to said that verbally.

“And

after this uninvited man crashing down at the party; Im sure will be

interrogated as witness. So I decide to come here by myself.” Warren pointed to

Jeffrey figure, then add, “So I’ll save you the trouble of finding me.”

Jeffrey

actually don’t now how to respond to that, because; yes, he actually planned to

visit Warren after checking in—but maybe not today.  It is strange enough that he’s not the only

one in the room that doesn’t wear the formal uniform—the perks of being a

detective; no uniform needed.

“That

was thoughtfull, actually,” said a young man—Jeffrey don’t who he is.

The

confusion in his face is probably telling enough; for the police head

departement—the oldest man in the room began to introduce them.  He got up from the chair he was occupying,

stepping towards him.

The

man tapped Jeffrey on his left shoulder, saying; “ Jeff, this is Andrew

Malcom.”

The

man named Malcom was waving happily; like an overexcited kid. It rubbed him on

the wrong way, but still Jeffrey raised his hand and wave back—albeit less

excitedly—just not to be rude.

“Malcom,

this is—“

“Detective

Jeffrey Izbell, of course,“ Malcom finished the oldest words. “Everybody knows him.”

Theres

a sudden drop of pressure in the room, followed by a deep silence. Jeffrey brown

eyes sink into an almost crescent curve, lips tightening—forced into an empty

smile at those so familiar words. Even the woman who’s busy searching the

cabinets in the corner stop her movement after the sudden cease of noise.

“Come

on, Jeff. Cut to the interrogation!” Warren propositioned, fake cheerfulness is

oozing from him. The head deparement looks relieved—and nodding at the words.

While the young man—Malcom—looking confusedly at both of his supperior antics.

The

next second, Warren hand gripped Jeffrey and start dragging him out of the

room. “Wait, wait!” Jeffrey protested, holding on to the door.

“I

was going to ask your permisson, I need access to the full report and evidence

regarding the murder case in Old Del Luna Apartement.”

“You

got it,” The chief of police departement answered easily. “Access towards

everything you need to solve the case, I’ll have my secretary write the

letter—when she arrived.”

-----

Warren

feels funny—like theres a bubble full of histerical laughter inside his

belly.  Still he sat down—on a chair

intended for interrogating witness and suspects, while his friend—Jeffrey act

as the interrogator. Also, he believe thre are some recording device installed

in this room—but he didn’t know where.

“I

was palnning to postponed this information gathering until tomorrow, and

focused on the first murder case,” Jeffrey said as he scribled something in

this super thick and ancient looking book. With the hard expression painted

across his handsome face—not as handsome as himself, of course; there’s a

reason why he himself is married and Jeffey is not. That was just a personal

opinion, tho.

“But

you helped yourself and adds more work in my already fulls plate,” Jeffrey

babble on—he even took of his hat—discarded on the table, displaying the curves

of short black hair hidden underneath. He look wild—not the proper,

perfectionist Jeffrey. Hes another man; a stranger.

Warren

opened his mouth, about to say something, but the other man beat him to it.

“Whats

your name?” he asked.

“Warren

Worthington.”

A

pair of dark brown—no, not brown; a pair of bottomless black eyes is staring at

him. A raspy voice recite another question. “Where are you two days ago?”

The

man who sat on the chair tittled his head. “Sorry?” He is puzzled.

“Estimation

death time of the still unidentified corpse is two days ago,” Jeffrey

elaborated. He wasn’t even sitting down, the man is standing tall in the shadow

in an intimidating manner. “Where were you then?”

The

married man understand the impication behind those words. Uttered so calm, yes

so striking at the same exact momment. This was Jeffrey asking if he killed the

man—but why would he? He stuttered with bewilderment;  “I—I was with you.”

There’s

this tone in Warren speaking manner; as if he just delivered a question instead

of an answer. Perhaps that is why the detective in front of him response with a

command; “Repeat.”

“I

was with you,” Warren repeats, still shaky.

“Repeat

again.”

“I

was with my subordinate in the police station; Jeffrey Izzbel. I helped him

searching for evidence in Old Del Luna Hotel,” He said with force.

The

sole lonenly lamp hanging above the table is moving—Warren eyes strain to rolls

upwards, trying to see it. It is moving gently; back and forth, then back and

forth—like a swaying baby. The older man can’t see what makes the lamp

move—there’s a chill behind his back, a dangerous feeling. He’s sure theres a

logical explanation in this; this is probably some unregistered method Jeffrey

invented—solely for the purpose of scaring whoever is interrogated—right?

The

light is swaying faster, lighting Warren for a second, then putting him in the

darkness, before went back to comfort him; but there’s no comfort. Not when

Jeffrey just stared at him—like he didn’t see how the lamp moving like somebody

playing with the rope that kept it hanging over their head.

His

breath hitched. “Jeff—?“

“Who

choose the building in the church ground as your wedding party location?”

Jeffrey suddenly ask.

Warren

blinked; the lamp above him hanging still as a stone, the light orange and

steady. Like what just happend is marely a hallucination.

“Mr.

Worthington, I just ask you a question,” The detective pointed out; half amused,

and half complaining at being ignored.

“It’s

Stephanie,” Warren answered numbly.

“Were

you helping during the building decoration?”

“Yes,

and no. Yes I help; by giving ideas. But, no; I never present during the

decoration, or anytime before the wedding day. I am an active and on duty

officer until yesterday.”

“Last

question; how many days it takes to decorate the building?”

“The

decoration itself is in two days, the cleaning beforehand takes the same amount

of days.” He didnt know why he add that small detail at the end of his answer.

It is strange; that information just floating out of his mouth. Thats ok—that

is a good thing; he vouched for giving information as a witness to help the

case after all. But it just; a bit strange.

The

black haired man close his book—he seems to be adding to much forces; there’s a

springkle of dust flying from the book. Jeffrey wringkled his nose, unhappy at

the sight.

“Oh,

well. Thats all I need from you Mr. Worthington.” He give this small; almost

shy smile. That pulled Warren out of his short daydream.

Jeffrey

pushed a button behind him; turns on all the lamp—the real one; not the

strange, slightly creepy one hanging above the table. The light is bright

white—almost blinding—that Warren feels the need to cover his eyes and adjust.

When he opened them, Jeffrey is nowhere in sight; he also didn’t hear any

footsteps, or the sound of door opening and closing.

He

stared at the single lamp button beside the door. Then his gaze moved towards

the bright white lamps, then the single one who emmits dim orange light just a

few moments ago. That hanging lamp is off; hanging innocently.

The

soft hair on the back of his neck standing, as if trying to reach toward a cold

invisible touch. The off-duty officer immediately runs out of the interrogation

room.

-----

“Jeffrey,

Jeffrey, wait!”

Warren

is running in the hallway towards Jeffrey, who rushed out of the interrogation

room towards the archive room with quick long steps. When the man managed to

follow in stride he ask, “You don’t think it’s Stephanie right?”

“Of

course I don’t think it’s Stephanie,” Jeffrey answer as he enters the archive

room and went looking for keys in the small card box on the only small table

among the giant locked cabinets. “It could be anyone.”

Well,

isn’t that comforting?

The

detective apparently found the specific keys he tried to find—Warren wasn’t

sure; all the keys looks exactly same for him.  Then the black haired man move towards the colour coded cabinets; theres

a line of numbers and letters combined; printed, laminated, then glued to the

corner of the cabinets door. Jeffrey kneels in front of a row of yellow

cabinets.

While

unlocking the cabinet, Jeffrey adds; “Assuming who is who, is a dangerous game,

Warren. Its narrowed my perspective, and as a Detective I should be open

minded.”

He

pulled out a thick yellow map from the stack of file inside the cabinet, checking

if he got the right file then close the cabinet door.

“So,

you’re going to question Stephanie? Right now?”

Jeffrey

narrowed his thick eyebrows; appears to be confused. “Who told you that? I was

litterally telling you in the interrogation room; Im gonna focus on the first

case.”

The

detective gripped his friend shoulder—hard. Warren found himself captivated by

the heavy gaze landed upon him.

“Why

are you so disturbed by this?” Jeffrey ask, his head tittled slightly to the

left. “Why so many questions?” Theres an edge to his voice; suspicious.

Warren

doesn’t know if he felt ashamed of his own unmanly behaviour, or angry because

the slight accusation in Jeffrey voice. There are so many things in his mind;

so much emotion raging inside a tiny place called chest—he felt ready to burst

at any momment.

The

grip on his shoulder tightened—just a minute, before loosened. Jeffrey gave him

a symphatic smile—as if he knows whats going on inside his head; well, thats a

bit creepy to put it like that.

“I

think you should go home; take a rest, I’ll handle this.”

-----

Marrie

narrowed her eyes, “Isn’t that too much? Do you really need to draw his blood

that much?”

The

hospital intern; a girl who’s sticking a needle in Axl right arm—drawing his

blood—vissibly flinched. The motion jarred the needle too—it slipped a bit

deeper than before; making the red haired teenager hiss in pain. Marie growled

at the sound.

The

nurse—whose changing the infus bottle flushed at the situation she’s stuck in.

She instructed the intern to stop drawing the blood, and brought it to the

lab—immediately. When the door closed behind the scolden intern, the nurse

turned to Marie and said; “Were sorry for the trouble, she’s new in here.”

Axl

gaze is moving from Marie, then the nurse, then back to Marie—who got a

stubborn expression in her face. She look about to call the hospital owner and

voice her complain. So, he decide to intervere, and said; “Im ok. it doesn’t

hurt at all.”

-----

Kicking

Warren out of the police station is harder than he thought. The guy is a

workaholic, and kept asking if he could help Jeffrey in investigating—which he

answer with no. That convince the guy that he could go and enjoy his honey

moon—until Jeffrey come knocking on his door for help.

He

dumped a stack of file on his back seat, along with his bag, closed the door

then went to the front seat. In no time he’s driving out of the police station,

into the busy road. His destination is Apartement Old Del Luna; which is about

fifteen minutes ride from the station. Halfway through the journey, he stopped

at the gas station for fuel.

“Nice

car,” The station worker commented. Eyening his car.

“Yeah,

thanks.” Jeffrey pull out a few dollars from his wallet, giving it to the

worker and adding a few tips.

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