“ Alright Miss James, we’ve already located Mr. Lynch in an apartment uptown which has you listed as a cosigner on the lease. I can tell you what we know and we can play some cat and mouse bullshit where I try to fill in the holes or you could just go ahead and tell us what actually happened.” Chief Rollins had always addressed life with this same black and white tactic. You’re either guilty or innocent. Those insanity pleas and “guilty by association” verdicts were just copouts to pacify an angry public when officials had no idea what the sam-hell actually happened. The chief was a product of the fifties and he grew up on trusting his gut and reading people at face value. When he felt right about something he went forward unshaking.
“It’s Mrs.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m a married woman detective and I’d appreciate it if you’d acknowledge that.”
“Alright then, Mrs. James, is there any light you’d care to cast onto the recent events?”
“Are you trying to blame his murder on me?”
“Mrs. James, I can promise you that I hadn’t cast blame on anyone up to this point.”
“And now you have?”
“Well you see, we told you we found him, not his body, so when exactly did you determine for yourself Mr. Lynch was dead?”
room 304 