In the Dead of Night

Chapter 2

I am hanging on the dashboard of James's car for dear life. The car makes all kinds of sounds that concern me, but the real danger is his blatant disregard for road laws. I only ever let him drive places because he has a backseat big enough for when we take turns sleeping on our night time investigations.

"James...please slow down." I am nervously scanning the side roads James passes hoping there aren't any cops to pull James over.

"Lizette, you need not worry. I have been driving many more years than you have been alive." He is now fiddling with the radio that has been playing nothing but fuzzy sounds for the past ten minutes. I'm pretty sure he just has it set to AM instead of FM radio, but last time I tried to fix it he almost drove us into a tree.

"Those were not years you were legally allowed to drive, and that might be the issue here....stop sign." I try to point to the sign as James just blows right past it. His car looks as bad as he drives. "I am making a list of questions we need to ask the suspect when we get there. You should write down everything he says." I'm trying to bury myself in work now to distract myself from the games James is playing with our lives in this death wagon.

"Sounds good. You've always been better at the questioning. Can we make a citizen's arrest on this guy?" James is eating from a bag of cheetos that might've been sitting in this car open for nearly a week. He brushes crumbs off his shirt and continues to keep shoveling them in his mouth.

"For the love of...no, we cannot just make a citizen's arrest. We can take what information we have to the police. Also do we not forget how, ahem, large Mr. Walsh is?" I shuddered remembering the size of his arms alone. His face wasn't super memorable, but the fact that he stands at close to six foot 5 is enough to make me uneasy about having to confront him about being a possible murder suspect. I almost question how he fits into those tiny motel beds.

James is pulling into a paved driveway line with decorative rocks. Mr. Walsh was some supervisor for a marketing company of some kind. He was a professional, which explained how he could afford someone like Chrissy, she was incredibly pretty. On top of that, Chrissy was something of a call girl. I remember hearing him on the phone with her. She wasn't picked up from the streets. I shudder realizing we now have to approach the door and confront the man whose relationship we might've possibly ruined over a month ago. I look at James who seems completely unbothered, he's tucking away the now empty bag of cheetos into an overflowing plastic bag of fast food wrappers and Dunkin' Donuts coffee cups.

"Ready?" He smiles at me as he reaches for the notebook from my hands. He swings his car door open and briskly walks towards the porch tucked behind a lush garden. I follow after quickly and try wiping the sweat from my palms down my pants. I have never had to confront the offender before. I always pictured the first time I'd question a murderer there would be the protection of a jail cell between us, but this is out in the open in the suburbs where we can be buried in big backyards and I have no protection except for a 42 year old man who can't properly tie his shoes. That realization makes me start to sweat even more.

James knocks at the door and stands back. He rocks eagerly on his heels and looks to me with clear excitement in his eyes. I try to not show the sheer level of discomfort this situation is giving me. I stare ahead at the door as it swings open to reveal Mrs. Walsh in a gray robe that is not tied tight enough for my comfort level. She has a glass of wine in her hand and I hear the sounds of young kids giggling from several rooms away.

"Oh wow you guys, what is going on here? Greg has been really good lately, I'm not sure we'll ever have a situation again thanks to you guys." Mrs. Walsh opens the wooden door she was standing behind and smiles warmly at us. She was always pleasant when communicating with us, and she paid the fees rather quickly which made James like her even more.