Good CopMature

‘What do you mean, she’s not goddamn in?!’

The man in the doorway glares at me. ‘I mean exactly that. She’s out.’

‘And is she planning to come back at any point in the immediate future?’

The man shakes his head. ‘Dunno, do I? She said she’d be back at four.’

Four? That’s only three goddamn hours away. Why has she gone out? Smacks of a guilty conscience to me, but there you go. I’m just prejudiced against her because she can’t be bothered to sit around all goddamn day waiting for the cops to call in to question her.

Yeah, okay. Maybe I’m being just a little harsh.

‘Who’re you, anyway?’ Tact never was my middle name.

Doorway-Man glowers even harder, but I’m telling you, he’s got nothing on me. ‘I’m Reginald Forsyth. Did Gayle tell you nothing?’

I have the right to remain silent. And I exercise it now. Instead, I simply pull out my notebook and start scribbling. I’m drawing a cartoon of Gayle, but Forsyth needn’t know that. I mustn’t forget Gayle’s ears…

‘Will you stop that!’ yells Forsyth at me half a second later. Hah. Now he sees  how irritating it is.

‘Okay, bro, sure. Just answer me a couple of questions, and make me a coffee or something, and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m not doing this for goddamn fun, you know. Just my job, and all.’

Forsyth seems to be sizing me up, but apparently I pass the test, because he steps aside and lets me into his perfectly pristine house. White carpet, white walls, dark furniture in the modern style, wooden blinds, glass tabletops… Nice place he’s got here. A little stark for my liking, but there you go.

He takes an age making the coffee, which is disgusting when it finally does come, but I’m not picky. I stretch out on the dark leather sofa, and he perches opposite me, a little uncomfortable in my presence. Ah, well. That’s his lookout.

‘Now, Mr Forsyth. I’ve just got a couple of things to ask you. First, do you happen to know when Ms  Glenhold broke up with Mr Watts?’

‘Must’ve been about a month ago.’ That confirms what Gayle told me, good.

‘Okay. And you are in a relationship with her, right?’

He frowns, but nods. ‘That’s right.’

‘For how long?’

‘Now, look here - I really don’t think this is any of your business-’

‘Sorry, mate. But I’ll decide what is and isn’t my business. Keep talking.’

He dithers for a moment, evidently planning some very nasty way of murdering me. ‘It’s quite hard to tell… I mean… Well, it can’t have been much longer than a few weeks…’

‘And now you’re living here with her?’

‘This is my house.’

Ouch. I didn’t see that one coming. Living together, after only a few weeks? Somehow, I think not. He’s so obviously lying, I feel like a genius for having spotted it. A few weeks my arse. If this Forsyth isn’t the reason they broke up, I don’t know what is. But I keep my cool - relatively speaking. What I mean is, I don’t break one of his limbs in an attempt to make him tell the truth. I just lean back, sip my disgusting coffee, and smile in a rather disconcerting way. I’m playing good-cop.

For now.

The End

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