The Interrogation Room

000
Detective Olivia Short was assigned to interrogate an odd 18 year old by the name of Douglas Brown, and odd kid accused of stabbing and murdering a woman named Ellis Washington. But as Detective Short puts all the pieces together, she starts to see a different side of the story...

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3. Part 1, Chapter 3

Olivia came back in the room with a cup of coffee. "Black, just like you wanted."
"Thank you, Detective," He said in a sarcastically cheerful tone. She lowered herself back into the chair across from him. She watched him sip on the paper cup for a little bit, then he lifted his eyes up to her. "How far along are you?"
"What?"
"Your baby. When is she due?"
"How do you know it's a girl?"
"Lucky guess."
"Well, I don't know if the baby is a girl or a boy yet. I want it to be a surprise. And I'm 7 months."
 He took a long, slow sip, swirled it around in his mouth a little. He swallowed and set the cup down on the table. "It's a girl." He then picked up the cup and slammed it on the metal desk, causing Detective Short to jump. 
"Careful, Detective. You don't want to cause stress on your baby." He let out a piercing laugh.
"It's not funny." 
He lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "Come on, lets get on with this shit, huh? I got men I have to boss around, do favors for me, ya know?"
"What?"
"Got cotton in your ears, Detective? There's men out there waiting for orders from me, so let's chop chop, yeah?"
"Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Brown?"
"I can."
"Don't start this again."
"Come on, Sun, interrogate me!" Douglas bellowed, throwing up his hands. "Don't you earn money for this crap? Think about your ol' daughter in there. I can see her already, holding up a sign that says 'Homeless Because My Mom's a Big Fucking Failure. Please Help.' Can't you see that, Detective Sun?"
 Detective Short rubbed her stomach soothingly. "Don't turn this conversation to something else. We need to get back on track." She lifted her hand to press the record button, but Douglas swatted her hand away. "I got this one Sun." His stubby fingers jammed the button.
"Thank you, Mr. Brown. Now, can you repeat the statement that you just told me?"
"You heard me, Sun."
"Yes, but the recorder wasn't on."
"I said, there's men out there waiting for orders from me."
"Do you run a business, Mr. Brown?"
"You could say that."
"Elaborate."
"Have you ever heard of Jane Corporations?"
Silence.
"I'm afraid not."
"Of course you haven't." Laughter. "Jane Corporations is a business I founded a couple years back. It's a secret one, that's why you haven't heard of it. Kind of a cover up, you could say. There isn't a lot of people in my business. The people who are, however, have got a lot of shit in their records. I help the ones who need to feed their families, the ones who need a roof under their heads."
"What do you do in Jane Corporations?"
"Make shoes, clothes, pillow sheets, dolls, stuff like that. The business can't run without me there."
"And why not?"
"It's ran under my grandmother's basement."
"Your grandmother must have a pretty big basement."
"I told you, there isn't a lot of people in my business."
Silence.
"Here's the thing, Mr. Brown. I don't think you guys just make things. I think there's something bigger to this company."
"Speak to me, Sun."
"There was more fingerprints found on Mrs. Washington's bra. They matched a sex offender's by the name of Brennan Cordava. Can you explain that?"
"Wow."
"You sound surprised."
"I don't just sound it. I am."
"Why?"
"Brennon. Yeah. I know him. Real tough lookin' dude. We actually had a little, uh, quarrel before I.."
"Before you what?"
Silence.
"We got into a little disagreement about how we should run things."
"Elaborate."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Snitches get stitches."
"Who started this argument?"
Silence.
"Mr. Brown?"
"Old Macdonald had a farm..."
"Mr. Brown..."
"Ee-i-ee-i-oh. And on this farm he had a son, ee-i-ee-i-oh. With some butchering here and some screaming there, here a scream, there a scream, everywhere a scream scream, ol' Macdonald had a son, one you can't ignore."
"Mr. Brown, is there something behind this nursery rhyme?"
Silence.
"Mr. Brown, I can't make you say anything. But I'll have you know, you're looking at 20 years in jail. All you need to do is tell us the truth."
"What have I got to lose, Sun?"
Silence.
"No, don't hold back now. You already know I murdered her. Y'all nosy NYPD just want to know what went down. No matter what, I'm looking at 20 or more years in jail."
Silence.
More silence.
"Mr. Brown, how old are you?"
"18."
"You're 18. How can you start a company at 16?"
"I'll be 19 in February."
"That's nice. Can you answer the question?
Silence.
"Can you answer any of my questions?"
"I've answered enough questions, Sun."
"Why do you call me Sun?"
"You're the Sun, right? And I'm the dirt?"
"So far, you've only answered about 2 to 3 of my questions. That isn't enough."
"Were you good in school, Sun?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"How did you get your job? Because you're obviously not good at paying attention to things. I've answered almost all of your questions, Sun. You just weren't paying attention, because you wanted me to give you straightforward answers."
"Why don't you give me straightforward answers?"
"I'm not a straightforward kind of guy."
"I think that's enough for today."
Click.

 

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