David: Fun with Mr. LaneMature

"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

"You don't understand, I really did get that call!" Charlie said, practically pleading with me to believe her.

I believed her, but I didn't want her to know that. It'll keep her on her toes more. She'll be much more anxious to find evidence. Mental tricks like these are what I feed on. As this thought when through my head, I gave her a disgusted look and then walked away. "Get back to the office, this is a waste of my time."

Charlie sighed and scratched her head. "Yes sir."

"Hopefully Alannah and Randal are having more fun than we are," I whisper to myself as I enter my car.


"BOSS!" Alannah squealed as I entered the office.

"Yes, Alannah?" I say, motioning for her to quiet down.

She relaxes. "We followed the business card to this older dude named Mr. Lane, right? Then he like started to threaten us, and then Randal was all like, 'You're coming with us!' and then he was all like 'You can't do that!' then he was all like, 'Yes we can!' then he was all like-"

"ALANNAH!" I yelled.


"Get to the point, my hair is turning gray," I say, desperately trying to hide my anger.

Alannah nodded sheepishly. "Sorry. In short, we have Mr. Lane in the interrogation room."

"Excellent," I said, relieved she was done talking.

"So can I interrogate him? Please?" she asked, practically jumping up and down.

"No way!" I said sternly.

"WHY NOT?!" she pouted.

"Because you're too anxious. You'll probably give him a heart attack."

Alannah sighed. "Fine," she said as she walked away.

Charlie tapped on my shoulder. "No, you cannot."

Charlie frowned. "Why not?"

"You already screwed up the video," I whispered sharply. With that, I turned around and started for the interrogation room.

Randal was standing by the door, holding a folder. Probably a folder full of records and information on the suspect.

He waved at me, but I ignored it. "I'm going to interrogate him," I said.

"Of course," Randal replied cheerfully.

I push open the door. Sitting at the table was an older looking man, probably in his sixties. He was scrawny, yet proud. Fear was crawling all along his face. "Hello there," I said kindly. I take a seat on the other side of the table and look at him. Eye contact is important.

"Why have you brought me here?" he said, very angrily.

"To ask you about Mr. Friedrich," I lied.

He seemed to relax. "I don't know a Mr. Friedrich."

"I'm sorry, I meant Mr. Bell."

The man suddenly seemed more anxious. He squeezed his leg and stared deep into my eyes. "I don't know a Mr. Bell."

"Liar," I said.

The man looked furious. "What did you just say?"

"I said, Mr. Lane, that you are a liar. You do know a Mr. Bell, and if you keep lying to me you will be staying here for a long time."

Mr. Lane hesitated, looking around the room as if someone else was watching him. "I wasn't lying, all I was saying was, I don't know him very well."

"More truthful, but you aren't telling me everything."

The man scratched his chin awkwardly. I turned and looked out the window. Alannah was pressed up against the window, obviously wishing she could come in.

I smiled then returned to make eye contact. "Mr. Lane, if you don't tell me everything, we will get a warrant and we will search your entire house and work building. Have I made myself clear?"

Mr. Lane gulped. "I want my lawyer."

"He's on his way, until then, talk to me."

"No, I have nothing to say about Mr. Bell, his wife, or anything associated with him!" he said angrily.

I frowned. "Mr. Bell is dead, Mr. Lane."

He didn't seem surprised. "I'm not stupid."

"Are you having an affair, Mr. Lane?"

"WHAT?!" he yelled, standing up.

"Sit back down Mr. Lane, I just wanted to see a reaction. You're not having an affair."

He calmed down and sat.

"Except, of course, with Mrs. Bell."

He looked at me sternly. "That's not how it is."

"That's not how what is?"

"Our relationship is strictly professional," Mr. Lane said, anger obviously swelling inside of him.

"In other words, you're having sex for your own sick pleasure?"

The man stood and reached out to strike me. I gladly let him. His fist hit against my cheek and I fell out of my chair and to the floor. "Sir, we can now keep you here a lot longer." I said with a smile. I pushed myself to my feet and propped my chair back onto its legs.

Mr. Lane looked surprised, with a hint of anger.

"Alannah," I called.

I glanced over to see her press a button on the wall. "Yes?"

"Get in here, finish the interrogation."

I got up, waved at Mr. Lane, then walked out of the room.

Randal smiled at me. "Your amazing interrogations never fail to impress me."

"Shut up," I said. "Take Charlie back to Mr. Lane's offices. Find out what they do, why they do it, and if Mr. Bell ever used their services."

"Yes sir," Randal said kindly. 

I sighed. "I need a break."

The End

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