Lies

Chapter 22:

"So, am I getting this right? You guys as Henry's children want me to investigate him as a suspect in drug dealership?" A detective at the Ranglewood Police Station asked. He was rather big with an old fashioned suit that made him look rather like Sherlock Holmes without the pipe. His mustache was curled as if he put curlers in it every night.

"Yes, Mr. Collins. It's the only logical thing to do." I said, getting a whiff of an old musty smell. I looked around at his small office with it's dark furnishings, clutter and dust, trying to find the source of the smell. It was making me go crazy.

"I don't know. Your father is an icon in this town. If it is found out that he is doing what you are saying, he could be in massive trouble and that's bad for the town's publicity." Jordan Collins said, looking at me as if to clarify that I really wanted to bust my own father for doing something illegal. Yes, I did but why couldn't he see that? Was he paid to be silent and not to investigate into my father's affairs?

"Since when does a police station care about publicity?" Beckham asked with a hint of annoyance to his voice. His hands were on his hips and he was facing Jordan like he didn't want him to mess with him. It was the whole brother act.

"I'm not saying we do, Mr. Ranglewood. But it could be bad." Jordan said, his features starting to become hard. His eyebrows had suddenly drawn together and his face was a deep shade of red. It seemed the nice man we had first encountered when we arrived was gone, replaced by a man who had been in this kind of field his entire life and wasn't afraid of a man who was standing right in front of him who, putting it nicely, looked much more fit than him.

"It's going to be bad either way." Hendrix replied from the door of Jordan's office. We couldn't all fit so the door had been propped open for us since we labeled our case as urgent. "Either we let what's going on keep happening or we arrest him for his crimes. I don't think you need to worry about busting anymore drug parties now do you, Mr. Detective?"

"It's Mr. Collins." Jordan hissed, making his already red face an even darker shade red. I was afraid that his head would just blow up from the pressure that was contained there.

"You know you aren't very friendly." Nia said from her spot next to a dusty filling cabinet that was opened due to too many Manila folders taking up its space. Her back was pressed up against one; the flannel she was wearing getting caught on the drawer that was opened.

"I'm sorry but there are other things for me to do. Important things that is than to argue with a bunch of highly emotional adults." Jordan stated, turning around to grab a new Manila folder.

"Highly emotional? That was uncalled for." I said through gritted teeth. I had dealt with this detective before. It had been months ago when Ian Sweet had been murdered and Ethan, Allie's husband, and Jordan were going around and investigating his death. He was just as harsh then but it seemed when it was something that actually was related to me, he was worse.

"Yes. I'm sorry." Jordan stated, getting a pen. He sat down in a chair, the chair creaking as he did so, that sat behind his desk and began scribbling on a piece of paper that held some kind of writing. I watched as his meaty hand wrote in a penmanship that I couldn't make out even if I was trying. "Now, I need you to give me the address of the house you believe to be the house that he is using as his place of business."

I gave him the address and watched as he wrote it down. The pen moved swiftly across the page, never lifting up once and making as little sound as possible. He looked back up at me and didn't say a word; just stared as if he couldn't believe that I was actually turning my own father in.

"The letters?" He finally asked, breaking his gaze. I pulled the folder out of my purse and set it in front of me, sliding it across his desk to his hands. He caught it and opened it, squinting as if he couldn't read that close. Sure enough he couldn't for a pair of glasses was taken out of his pocket and put a top his nose that jutted out in a random way. "Well, at least they look authentic."