I'd been sat at the Detective's desk for about fifteen minutes when two men walked in, one who looked very disgruntled and another who had a very cocky air. His eyes lit up when he saw me. Great, another believer in stereotypes. It should be quite amusing to play him at this.
"How long do I have to be here?"
"As long as it takes." The cocky man sat down and leaned back on the chair, looking at me as if he knew it all. Yeah, sure.
"So, who do I have the pleasure of talking to?"
"Detective James Whithers, and this is Detective Robert Johnson. I believe you've already spoken to him."
"I believe I have."
"So what we'd like to know is..."
"Excuse me Whithers, but I believe i am still in charge of this investigation." Whithers practically rolled his eyes and then shrugged.
"Of course, go ahead Johnson. Why not?" He satisfied himself with staring at me, trying to gain some sort of information before Johnson did.
"Miss Dowall, where were you this morning?"
"Well, I stayed at my house and got up around seven, got ready, then went shopping."
"So you've been shopping all morning?"
"Can't say I'm surprised," muttered Detective Whithers.
"Yeah, us blondes, not much with the brains, much with the shopping right?" I leaned on my fist and stared back at Whithers. He seemed clever, but he hid it behind arrogance, much like I hid mine behind my appearance. It would almost be a game to see if we could out smart each other. It was a pity we were meeting about the murder of my sister.