Red Alarm [A Detective/Thriller Story] DISCONTINUED

Chapter 25

"Freeze," Samantha quickly shot up.

Khen who'd steeked his eyes and face scribbled a shuddered look, also had a sudden pinch from reality. For a moment of the gangster's brief supremacy of terror, he'd forgotten the fact that he was a policeman and not just any tween sneaking around.

He coughed off his rubber ducky voice, tossing his police badge in the air and said in a bass tone, "Bart Gerald, we're arresting you as a suspect for Mrs. Anderson's murder."

Forty minutes later, after a few twists and turns and explaining to Detective Hopkins what a whole lot of information he had miss having Brit Breakfast with no. 13, they finally arrived sitting face to face with Bart inside the good old interrogation room. He had that look of a guard outside a pub - an emotionless hulk. He played his calloused fingers on the surface table, an invisible piano keys. Khen decided to do the same. Tapping once, tapping twice, following every measure of his.

"Okay, Mr. Gerald," he cleared his throat. Man does he feel great to be in the presence of a brawny fellow and the fact that he was the 'person in charge' this time. He straightened his wrinkled polo and clasped his beating fingers together. "We want you to answer the truth. Nothing but it."

There was a silent response.

"Where were you during the death of Mrs. Anderson?"

"Making dealerships," he shrugged. "Phone called customers here and there. Regular transactions."

There was this preconceived judgement he had for him. He knew appearance doesn't really define a person inside and out but Bart? He was way different from his bro. Another Hound involved with a murder but now he had the MMO to kill. Probably wondering what that means? MMO: Motive, Means, Opportunity.

One, he had the motive - they just haven't figured it out. Everyone the old lady met must've had that single intent to end her dirty mouth. Plus, there must be a back story for both of them - the picture. Two, he had the means to kill her. A single crush of those biceps, anyone would be beaten into a pulp. Not anyone could escape his tight grip - certainly not even him, he thought. Lastly, opportunity. He was a tenant so he could've gone upstairs anytime. Being floors up and his room on the first one is suspicious by itself. Bingo. A straight A plus for Bart's 'Are you a Suspect? Quiz.'

"Let's shake things up a bit," Samantha said with a smuggled face. "You sure you don't have any ideas with Mrs. Anderson now, punk?"

As soon as she showed their card - the landscape of construction building accompanied by five people, the man's stable demeanor crumbled, "I - that's an....old picture." They shot glances at each other. It was the first time they'd seen him stutter.

"Nothing but the truth," Khen's resting palms on his lap turned into fists of fury. "Spill."

"That picture was taken in Crown Heights. The apartment we are living in right now. The people in there, they - I mean, we, were the first ones to get a room. I somehow thought it was a stupid and lame idea to hold a picture taking with the others. I couldn't say I was in good terms with all of them. You wanted the truth right? Anyways, Sniper is dead," he gave another shrug. "Nothin we can do bout it."

"You think this is a joke?" Hopkins hoicked him by the collar and hastily waided him to his heavy-handed stare. A fist was starting its ignition to bump his protruding jawline.

Officer Gonzales stopped on his brakes, "Detective Hopkins, stop."

"Look at his face," he cried indignantly. "He's smiling!"

The man let out another snicker, "It's just so funny how her nicknames were Sniper and Cackle Doddle Doo. Sniper because she always pussyfoot around other people's businesses. No wonder she got herself killed. And I heard stitched mouth also? It's just so ironic sorry."