Posted in Random Pieces Of Writing

The Nights That Followed (Chapter 4)

Genre: Suspense

   

Groggy with sleep Michael and Ryan were removed from their cells and led to separate interrogation rooms. However Ryan was simply there for ceremonious reasons a sort of mental fuckery on Michael, the detectives felt they had gotten all they could from him. Upon entering the room Michael was offered a seat, as if he had the option to refuse it but it was another one of those interrogation techniques the cops used. The theory behind it was give the suspect a false sense of control or power and he would be more inclined to cooperate compared to treating him like he was the scum of the earth. Over inflating someone’s importance always makes it easier to take advantage of them.

Michael sat down, still slightly stuck in the subconscious due to inadequate sleep. The detectives threw a file on the table and faked a slight discussion between them before they left the room. They walked out announcing their exit by banging the door and went into the next room to observe him through the one way mirror. The file they had left contained crime scene photos from Michael’s house among other things. They were pictures of the bloody lounge, the broken french door and of Paula’s dismembered body stuffed in the blue suitcase in Michael’s trunk. The file also contained notes from the detectives and the officers first on scene, interviews with eye witnesses and some of Michael’s neighbours. 

Michael sat there, wondering when the detectives would walk back in. He looked around the room slowly, with his mind not on what he saw but on what was to come. Finally his eyes settled on the table in front of him. He stared at the brown file on the table, it looked bloated with papers and as he looked at it he felt it look back at him. It was taunting him he thought, teasing him to open it but he resisted. 

The curiosity was eating away at him and he could barely stand it. After almost giving in to it and taking a peak he stood up, half expecting someone to walk in right there and tell him to sit down, he walked up to the one way mirror and began looking at himself. Squinting his eyes one moment as if trying to see through it. That was the last straw the detectives had had enough, they burst in and a startled Michael nearly fell over. 

“Please take your seat Mr Sterling,” said Detective Phillips “Could we offer you something to drink?” 

“I’ll take a coffee,” Michael replied in a hoarse tone.

“Bring Mr Sterling a coffee please and a couple of donuts he must famished,” Detective Phillips said this addressing a uniformed officer at the door. 

As soon the officer left, the door was closed and the questioning began. The detectives opened the file and placed the pictures on the table one by one. “So Michael please tell us about these?” That please there, another sense of false superiority was being given to Michael and it seemed to work or maybe Michael was just always going to be upfront about this.

Michael cleared his throat before he began his narrative of the events on the Saturday night, starting by when he texted Paula ‘goodnight’ before he went to the Blackout bar. He told them all about bumping into her with Dylan at the same bar and how a fight broke out. There Michael was brought back to the words Dylan had told him yesterday after his arrest. The phrases that stuck out were “it’s a shame brother” and “our father’s love”. He thought to himself was it just a way of teasing him or was Dylan truly implying he was his half-brother.

The uniformed officer walked in with a styrofoam cup full of coffee and a box of donuts and placed them on the table. The detectives reluctantly pushed the stuff across the table to Michael. He didn’t need a second invitation, immediately he dug in stuffing his face full with nearly a whole donut. The coffee was smoldering hot but he gulped it down none the less as if the hunger had been severe enough to numb his mouth. The detectives looked on, with their faces void of expression.

Breathless and in between chews Michael sighed and said, “Damn I needed that!” The detectives didn’t show any amusement at him but simply kept staring. “So ummm were was I? Oh yeah..” Michael continued narrating the events. Detective Andre Rogers took notes here and there but mostly the detectives just sat and listened, trying as much possible to exude deep interest in Michael’s story. He ended it by telling them his last memory, holding Paula’s lifeless hand as she lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood. 

“Mr Sterling what a story there,” Detective Phillips said as he clapped his hands. “It’s a shame it’s all bullshit.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off. “Listen here Michael stop wasting our time, just confess to murdering Paula in cold blood and cutting her up. It’ll make all this easier on everyone and it’ll save us all a lot of time.” Detective Phillips was on his feet as he said this and he banged his fist on the table as he finished speaking.

“It was Dylan’s fault, it was all fucking Dylan I’m not lying goddammit!” Michael rose up in fury and eyed Martin after he spoke. He was immediately pushed down by both detectives, as they quickly maneuvered to his side of the table. 

While they held him down Detective Phillips shouted at near deafening volume, “We know everything Michael, Dylan already told us what you did we have his statement. Number two you ran from the scene, only the guilty run! Confess and we might think about taking off the death penalty.”

The door gave out a loud bang as someone barged in. It was the public defender, Michael’s lawyer from the government. A pretentious over enthusiastic prick, who only performed well in court in exchange for compensation or in plain language he needed a bribe to drive the lawyer in him…

To be continued.

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Author:

Poet |Fiction Writer |Wannabe Comedian |Food lover |African |Zimbwabean

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