Confession (~END~) - Part (1/2)

The Interview Rooms in Police Precinct 23 were unique.

They could be mistaken for spaces where musical bands could rent out a couple of hours to practice their cover song or designing their new hit single. All four sides of the wall had deep black geometrical foam pads that resembled dull spikes. The type of foam that soaked in any sound that was made inside of the interior. The floor was also made with a soft material that sucked in any ambience sound. There were no doors, rather the exits were impossible to find unless one was familiar with its design. Each wall had nothing but onyx black padding, any gap would be hidden in the lack of colour and shades. The only source of lighting was the over head fluorescent light.

There wasn’t even the classical two way mirror. Or, it too was hiding behind the transparent foam. Some believe it would be harder to guess who is watching and from which angle. Some would also wager it was a form of psychological tactic against suspects.

Zero interference from the outside world. Justice always watching.

Felicia Harvey sat at the table, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Inspector May, correct? Why am I here? I am a sick person, I should be resting at home.”

Inspector May sat across from Felicia at a triangle table in the center of the interview room. Alone, she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs to get comfortable, and adjusted the buttons on her blazer. “You sure have a unique taste in mattresses. I never knew train beds could be that comfortable.”

The inspector tapped the table. The entire table top lit up, displaying a start up animation with electronic sounds. It broke Felicia’s cool as she watched the triangle table brighten up and unfold a series of desktop like screens and windows with files placed on the side – like an actual computer monitor.

All Inspector May had to do was double tap on a folder reading [SARAH TUCKER CASE] and drag one picture out of a sub folder. With a bloom of her finger tips the gesture expanded on a scanned image.

A train ticket. First Class.

“Not many people take the train out of the city. I mean, sure it’s decent but old. Not to mention rather slow.” Inspector May continued, leaning back in her chair and tapping a finger on her chair’s armrest. “First thought would be a plane, or you driving. We’ve had some suspects take a private boat and escape off another island where security is really lose. Train? I guess I’ll give you an award for creativity.”

“Inspector” Felicia crossed her own legs, but winced in doing so with her muscle movement. “This is my privacy. Your officers just grabbed me while I was on my way home. The way they cut me off in the middle of the road could have caused an accident. Are you really that eager to meet my lawyer?...Oh sorry, medications. I meant lawyers.” Felicia giggled with a shrug. “Being an insurance agents gets you in many people’s pockets. High, and low.”

“Hmmm.” Inspector May hummed and scratched a finger to her cheek. “Miss Felicia Harvey. Where were you between the hours of 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM this early morning?”

Felicia rolled her eyes. She plucked out a bottle of lotion to rub her hands and her wrists. Even when she spread the cream evenly, she continued to playfully rub her hands together. “I thought I already told your detectives I was stuck in the hospital, before they discharged me later in the morning.”

“Yes. Your roommate, Chandler Barnes. He was talking to you all night.”

The ex-insurance opened her hands with a shrug. “The old geezer. Such a chatter box, wouldn’t shut up. Thank goodness I asked for some sleep medications beforehand. Turned my back and nodded off, let the old man do whatever. I was out cold.”

Suddenly, the wall behind her caved in. Rather, a section of the wall opened up to reveal itself as a door. Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb came in, clutching onto several plastic bags. They walked around, nodding to the inspector, who the latter pointed a finger to the table.

“Chandler was indeed talking,” Leo muttered “even the nurses verified he was chatting up a storm--” He then flopped the first plastic bag onto the table top. Inside was a 1000 dollar bill. “—To a bunch of pillows under a blanket.”

Felicia eyed the bag, the money. Lips pursed. She stopped playing with her hands.

McLamb leaned in next to her, before he touched the table top. It brought up an image and he expanded it to see in full detail. It was the photo of a dash cam, a driver with a cap and sunglasses gripping the steering wheel with driving gloves as it rushed down the street. “Do you recognize this car, Miss Harvey?”

“It’s obviously not mine, so no.”

“After preparing Chandler Barnes as your alibi, you snuck out of the hospital and took a taxi. You had someone break into Frank Tucker’s car so you can have control. Using it for your own purpose.”

“What purpose is that?”

Inspector May tapped her knuckles on the table. “Offing the one person who stood in the way to your man’s heart.”

“Pffffft.” Felicia broke out laughing, clutching her gut. She would gasp every now and then, wincing in pain. Even so she chortled when she could. “What are you talking about? The whole world, even the social media, thought she was dead from the beginning.” She clicked her tongue. “It was only until this morning when your officers came to rub salt into my injuries after my boss let me go.”

Another door behind the inspector opened, startling Felicia. In walked Constable Jenny and Jackson. While the latter spun his fedora in his fingers, the former made a swiping gesture with her finger across her tablet.

A photo of a man appeared right in front of Felicia at the table. Color drained from her cheeks.

Jackson tapped his fedora on the table at the photo, before he placed his hat on his head. “No doubt you were curious as to why a man would cling onto a dead woman he hated his guts for. Obviously, your first move was to find out why. In comes a private investigator, doing what he does best: tracking cheating husbands. Who also happen to have car-jacking on his resume – and police records. Once you found where Frank Tucker has been moseying off to, you found the answer to Sarah’s disappearing act.”

Jenny adjusted her arms under her police tablet. “We received an eye witness report, from a new neighbor who had just moved into the cottage next to number 13 a few days ago. The witness and her friend finished their evening shift around 2:00 AM, the only time they could move their furniture. Around 2:30 AM, they saw a man leaving cottage number 13.” Jenny then tapped onto her tablet, and the triangle table between the inspector and Felicia pushed aside other images.

This time, it was playing a small video clip: It displayed a police line up, with several men. Among them was Frank Tucker, standing at tile number 7. He was wearing a full suit, his suit, while the others wore similar suits or clothing. In the corner of the video was a woman with a round belly. As she clutched the bottom of her bulging stomach, she leaned against the two way mirror to look at the line up who had just turned their backs to her.

[Ah him.] The pregnant woman poked at the glass. [Number 7, I’m sure. But uuh... Something’s different about him. The man I saw last night wore this exact suit, shoes, even hair, but shoulders were rather narrow, and the sleeves were oddly long. Like it hung over the palm and I could barely make out fingers. Number 7 right now looks like he fit the suit perfectly. You see? I can even see his full hands.].

==>