Strange Beings

.One-Way Glass.

When we first entered the police department, my first thought was, Can we go now? The place smelled like nothing, was an uninteresting idea to comprehend visually, and the sounds of shuffling papers and sloshing coffee and conversing officers were so prevalent that it was like nothing at all was really happening.

After trying to explain the Tweet, explain that Macy had abandoned the account two years ago, the detectives who had taken on the case were still furrow-browed and black-eyed. It was like they couldn't grasp anything that we were saying.

Before I could try to elaborate, again, Harry rolled his eyes, scrunched his face up in that let's-get-down-to-business look, and demanded all attention in the small room where we were.

"How about we just get Brown in here and ask him?"

The detectives, had they been unprofessional, might have shared a sideways glance, but they stayed silent for a moment.

"He hasn't fessed up to us," one of them said. At that point, I had decided to stop trying to put names on them. In Macy's case, they weren't important. "What about you two being around would make him talk?"

"Youse guys have rooms here with one-way glass, right?"

"Well, yeah," said the mustachioed one. "What are you getting at, boy?"

Harry looked angry, as if it was obvious and plain-as-day what he was implying. Frankly, I was only grasping at the idea he was proposing in a very vague sense.

"I'm getting at this: Brown, my friend, and I will be inside the room, where you can't see through the glass. We'll ask him about what happened at the Transit Museum, and you two can listen in from the outside. Enter if things take a turn for the worst."

This time, the two seemed to have an inner dialogue. They were pensive for approximately seventeen seconds before they returned to spoken words.

"Fine. I'll lead you to the room, he'll bring Brown," Mustache said, finalizing the statement like a trade deal.