Invisible Death

Nothing to Hide

"Herman, Herman, what have you done this time?"

From the standard metal chair, his wrists firmly cuffed to the metal table in the stark interrogation room at Cascade PD's Major Crime headquarters, Herman Muñiz looked up to the tall blond man in a crew cut. Geez, that detective... What's his name? Ellison! Jim Ellison! He was one big dude! When he had picked Herman up at the strip club he worked for as a bouncer, he seemed to step out of thin air! Herman never saw him coming! If he did, he would have known he was a cop and bolted! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Herman Munster! He knew he should never have boasted of the good dough he made in one job only! He knew he should never have paid rounds to his buddies... buddies, yeah, those double-crossing bastards... One of them had ratted him out, as surely as death and taxes! But what Herman had never expected was the freaking line-up!

Seven men, all of them looking more or less like Herman, all of them with long hair to cover their ears, all of them carrying numbered cards, stepped inside the line-up room in single file, turned to the left and faced the fake mirror. Behind the mirror, Herman knew someone would point to him, someone who had seen him leave the converted warehouse building with that brunette bitch slumped over his shoulder, trotting behind the other broad, the one with the stiff nose, the broad who paid him for his efforts. Handsomely, he might add. But who could have seen him? The broad had checked the way and it was all clear! Nobody could have seen them! Damn, somebody had.

The deformed voice cracked from the speakers. "Number Four, two steps ahead, please." The "please" was nothing but a formality, of course. Herman approached the mirrored wall. "Turn to the right, please." Herman turned to the right. "Now, turn to the left, please." Herman obeyed. "You can go back to your place."

It felt like a long time, but merely minutes had gone by. The single file started moving, leaving the line-up room. When it came to Herman's turn to step out, a big, black and heavy hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him away from the others. The hand shoved him roughly inside an interrogation room, another place with a fake mirror wall, and the hand's owner made him sit at the chair where Herman waited. And waited. And waited, slowly stewing in his own sweat, before the door opened again to let the tall blond guy in the crew cut, the one detective Ellison, enter.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I was minding my own business when..."

"When you decided to kidnap a former police officer, Herman," cut the tall man. "Bad idea. Very bad idea."

"What do you mean, kidnap? I've never kidnapped anybody! The chicks come to me of their own free will!"

The tall man punched the table, the metal ringing under his fist. "Kidnapping is a federal crime, you moron! We have a witness who puts you right there in the crime scene!"

"You have nothing! I'm innocent!"

"Listen to me, Herman! You will spend your whole natural life in a federal maximum security prison, sharing the shower with the worst human garbage society could spawn." Ellison sat at the edge of the table and leaned closer to the suspect. "Now it is the time to cooperate. Maybe... just maybe we can put in a good word to the DA."

"I don't have to cooperate with you! I told you I'm innocent!"

"Innocent? You were born guilty, you piece of crap!" Ellison jumped off the table. "Where did you take her?" The tall detective towered over the sitting man. "Where did you take Donna Gryphon?"

Herman looked up at Jim Ellison with a challenge in his eyes. Deny, deny, deny everything! Never admit, never confess! "I don't know what the hell you are talking about! And I want a lawyer!"