I sat facing a wall that was made up of mostly mirror. I looked like shit. Nose was definitely broken and bloody, one swollen black eye, a dark bruise forming across my cheek. I guess these guys decided to go easy on me once I was out. For Chicago cops these guys had basically treated me like royalty. I’m still alive.
“If someone could bring me some aspirin when they come in that would be great. The accommodations are pleasant but the service here stinks.” I shouted towards the mirror and heard a stifled laugh from the other side.
Good ol’ Irish Mike.
Did you think I was only going to sexually objectify women in this story? You’re a bad person.
Still, I wasn’t going to let this handsome sonuvabitch throw me off my game like Mrs. Kensington had. Kensington… Something about her nagged at the edge of my thoughts but I couldn’t pin it down. Her husband was now dead and this case just got more interesting. Shame I was stuck here in this jail. Time to talk my way outta this.
“Do you know why I brought you in here?” I asked.
The detective looked confused. As I suspected, pretty people don’t need to be smart.
“We… uh… Brought you in here.”
“Very good… And d’you know why?” I demanded.
“Because you killed Ezra Kensington?”
“A likely story!” I slammed my hand on the table as best I could while still being cuffed to it. “Where were you on the night of the murder?”
“Uh, at home!” he stammered.
“And what night was that!?” I shouted.
“July 13th! Time of death was around 7:45!” I smiled.
This kid was dumber than three bags of very dumb hammers.
“Last night, eh? And we’ve already got someone dangling on the hook.” I slammed my hand on the desk again. “How’d you do it!?”
“I didn’t! Didn’t you? Didn’t he did it?” he looked back at the mirror as if asking for help.
I leaned forward on the desk. “Don’t play dumb with me, kid. How did you do it? What’s the murder weapon?”
“I’m not playing! We can’t figure out how it was done!” he blurted out. “There’s just this big hole in the middle of his chest! Straight through! We’ve never seen anything like it…”
“Goddamit Jerome!” someone shouted from the other side of the glass.
“Okay guys. Ya got nothing. Who’s taking lead on this?” I looked past my dumb friend and addressed the mirror directly.
Jerome turned towards the mirror again and shrugged.
The door opened and she walked in, crushing my hopes of this being easy. Of course they’d send her in here.
“How ya doing, Detective Donovan?” I attempted my charming smile, which probably looked ridiculous with my face bloody and bruised.
“Shut up, Jacobs” she snapped back. Oh, she definitely missed me.
“I get you need to tie this case up quickly with the victim being rich and all…”
“We treat all murders with equal weight.” She deadpanned.
“Bullshit.” I coughed into my hand.
I saw that little vein start the throb at her temple. That happens whenever she contemplates violence. Or when she’s around me for more than fifteen seconds. Same thing. It was adorable.
“Look ‘Lyss, you know I didn’t do this. What makes you even suspect me?” I asked.
She gestured with her right hand and several images floated above her forearm. One was a ‘screen nab’ of my latest searches: ‘how to break into the Kensington estate, Ezra Kensington+comings and goings, sexy robot cosplay.’ The other images were one of me outside the Kensington compound with a pair of binoculars, and one of the crime scene. I looked pretty damn good in the former, the latter was grisly as all hell. Even I had to admit that it looked bad.
“Everyone who knows you knows your distaste for the rich, Jacobs. You’re wearing a damn uniform that says Kensington Security on it for Christ sake! You may as well confess and save us a lot of trouble.”
“What you got is a bunch of conjecture.” I countered, hoping I used that word right. “Think Alyssa, why would I still be wearing the damn uniform if I committed a murder in it last night? You got nothing solid. You don’t have a murder weapon, you don’t have a motive other than ‘distaste’. This whole case is flimsier than a… Flimsy piece of… Paper.”
I ended that poorly but I could tell she knew I was right.
“Do you want to tell me what you were doing out there then?”
“Can’t. Case.” It may have been the wrong time to get terse with her, but she responded by unlocking the cuffs.
“Okay, Jacobs. You’re free to go. But don’t leave town, we’ll be in touch.”