Walls of Fire

20. Interrogation

The veil of reverie along with the fuzzy clouds dissolved nudging me to regain my consciousness. First and foremost thing was that I was not a hired detective given with the assignment to investigate their familiarity. Second of all, if the same blood was streaming down their body, the probability of Miss Carton's brother being boorish was sky-high.

However above all of these musings, there jumped up another salient aspect. What if this guy was a imposter hoaxing me with a wrong identification? Self-awareness was important in today's world where there was no assurity of the good and bad forthcoming events anticipating for them.

I glanced around my surrounding. I was flopped down on James's car sleeping peacefully. Lizzy was not in my sight, and so was James. James's moratorium on his overprotectiveness was conceivable. He transcended to excel on the ground of the minimum common sense. James after neglecting me because of my slumber had set off on a exploration.

I didn't intend to deceive myself into believing that James was irresponsible. Nevertheless, the truth went against my beliefs and disbeliefs.
I stared in incredulity at the face of the only living soul I was surrounded with.

"What is your profession?"

His mouth gaped in suprise but soon it was substituted with a grin. He replied in a condescending tone, "I am a lawyer."

Coincidence. Pure coincidence! I went a step further with my investigation process.

"How long do you know your best friend?"

"Since past five years. James has shifted to New York from Italy to focus on his career two years ago."

"What is his favorites dish?"

Self protection and politeness cannot not go hand in hand everytime. Even at the time of third consecutive question, his face showed no hint of irritation.

Mr Carton asserted, "Mushrooms, correct? He loves the Asian culture. He is a family-oriented man."

Our intruder had a good knowledge! Evidently, he chalked a master minded plan where research was prematurely made.

"How many hair does he have?" As much as the question sounded silly, it had its secret purpose. It was a cunning way of cross examining the accuracy of his research.

At a slow rate the awkwardness of my questions heightened, and so did the furrowing of his brows.

Maintaining the frown of his brows, a smile glimmered across his lips. He guffawed, and replied warmly, "He is very so bushy so it impossible to finish the count within my life span."

It was a little relived but then my senses pushed to another level. What if he knew the exact figure, but was refusing to say it loud just so as to prove his innocence? How was I suppose to trust this person in a foreign location whose picture I had never stumbled across?

I had to endure the eye of the storm because of Mr Black's misguidance. Eric Carton (as he introduced himself) detected the faint paint of nervousness and weariness of my face. He simpered, "Your reactions are justified. The same goes for your questions."

He tugged out his wallet, and flipped it to show me a photograph. "Do you recognise this man beside me?"

The black-and-white picture was of two teenagers wearing graduation hats on their heads. I squeaked in, "James!"

"Yeah it is him. This photograph was clicked approximately ten years ago. James is like my own brother," he remarked heartily. He continued, "Didn't he exaggerate on my bad boy reputation? He must have mentioned my playboy nature. DON'T BELIEVE THE DEVIL."