David Mendrick

From beat cop to leader of a CBI unit. This is a spinoff of the CBI series following the leader of the team, David Mendrick.

"You're lying to me," I said plainly.

The suspect leaned closer to me, squinting slightly. It was almost a frown, but not quite. His eyebrows were a tad bit too relaxed. He was focused, not mad. Maybe slightly irritated, though. That would explain why his hand was in a fist and his palms were so sweaty. Speaking of sweaty, his forehead was soaked in sweat. Every once and a while he'd wipe some of it away just before another wave of sweat rolled in.

"I'm not lying," he said, matching my blunt tone.

I smiled at him. "Really? What would you say if I could prove that you're lying?"

His face seemed to relax. Good sign. Maybe he wasn't lying to me after all.

I cautiously paced around him and looked him in the eye. "Your unconfirmed alibi seems a little too coincidental, don't you think?"

"Of course not," the suspect said with a shrug.

My smile vanished. "The murder happened in the afternoon. Where were you in the afternoon?"

"I already---"

"Tell me again."

"I was playing golf."

"When did you start playing?"

"Two o-clock."

"Right around the time the murder happened."


Yes, it was weird. "Are you playing games with me, Mr. Lark?"

Lark smiled. "No, I haven't been. But I like games. What should we play?"

I didn't like this guy. Not one bit. Honestly, I wanted to cuff him and throw him in jail right now, whether he did it or not. Unfortunately they don't let me do that. The CBI has a lot of rules. Too bad I have to obey them.

I heard a door creak behind me.

I turned to be met by a man in a suit, holding a briefcase at his waist. "Hello, I'm---"

"I know who you are," I said quickly. "Mr. Lark's lawyer?"

"That is correct. Do you have anything to hold him on?"

"No, I don't. But---"

"We'll be leaving then."

I frowned.

Mr. Lark stood and brushed some dirt off of his jacket. "Such dirty facilities you have here."

I scowled and watched as he and his lawyer walked snobbishly out of the room. This job isn't fun. What would be fun is pounding some sense into that egotistical moron.

That'll come later, I suppose.

The End

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