The Plastic Man

The Detective

"14 years. 14 years I'd been searching. 14 years of loss, of pain, of lies... And all this time, the answers lied in that damn mirror."

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"Sir! We got 'em!" A short stacked man eagerly relayed to me as he hobbled over. His name badge had the letters "SMUTHERS" imprinted on it, as a gold plated coat of arms engraved with the words "detective" laid pinned to his blue coat. I juggled a single coin between my fingers as I glanced up at the friendly face of an old pal.

"John, my good friend. What's got you all excited?" I said, monotonously. Alot of the cheerful passion John exuberates had long since left my being. It had been far too many years... too many wasted years needlessly searching. I had dedicated so much of my life to finding him, and yet he managed to elude me for all of it...

"We found a lead to your case!"

... until today.

As Smuthers led me to the perpetrator, I couldn't help but stare blankly into space. The faces of fellow law enforcement blurred to me as they passed by, blending into a cacophony of different skin tones, with articles of blues and yellows mixed in from their unkempt uniforms. It was an ocean of dull, jaded justice long since murdered by the loss of righteous duty with how beaten down this job leaves you.

Smuthers was an exception to that case. He never lost the passion; he never lost the drive. His good will and eagerness reinforced his ironclad integrity. He has worked tirelessly with me on these cold cases, and where I've lost resolve, he's managed to reinvigorate his tenfold. A good man, a good friend, and a great detective.

He led me into a barely furnished white room. A single, dimly lit light bulb illuminating a table with two chairs on either side of it within the center of the room. Sitting on the chair opposite to my side of the table was a frail, anxious man. His skin was pale, and he was sweating profusely. I sat upon the chair across from him, as Smuthers stood beside me, hands rested on the table.

"This man's fingerprints were traced at a recent crime scene that fits the M.O. of our perp." Smuthers filled me in, talking softly while both of us kept our gazes locked with the man. I juggled the coin I carried with me between my fingers once more.

"Was there a..."

"Yep. Another coin found at the scene. A note was also found on the victim's person with HIS fingerprints all over it." Smuthers added. The man's eyes darted back and forth in fear and confusion as his gaze rested upon me. I held up the coin in front of him.

"Mr. Mathers." I said plainly, not breaking eye contact with the suspect. He shuddered as he looked at me. He looked almost hollowed out with how the light illuminated his features. This man looked as if he was malnourished. As I continued to lock eyes with him, I pressed the coin between my thumb and index finger, launching it into the air with enough pressure. It landed firmly in my hand as I smacked it against the back of the wrist of my other arm.

"Heads or tails?" I asked him. He looked startled and confused.

"Wh-wha...?" He stuttered. I refused to remove my gaze from his, letting off an aura of intimidation that proved successful.

"Heads. Or. Tails." I repeated, with more menace in my voice. He stared at my arm for what felt like an eternity before properly responding.

"T-Tails? I guess?" He responded as my expression dropped in disappointment. I got up from my seat and headed towards the door dejectedly, as Smuthers stumbled to catch up.

"Hey, wait. Sir! Where are you going? That's..."

"It's not him." I said defeatedly.

"What do you mean? His fingerprints were everywhere! It has to be..." I held up the coin to him, turning it between my fingers to show each side of it; Heads on one side... heads on the other.