King Of The Criminals

"What type of vehicle do you drive?" I stare into the detectives green eyes. Pink escapes from cheeks. Her blonde hair is tied up into a clean, professional bun and her red lipstick matches her clothing. But I see right through it. She's tired. The rest of her makeup is soggy and clumpy which tells me that she's been here all night. The wrinkles between her brows are caused by being worried often. I come to one simple conclusion; her work is her job, and she won't enjoy my jokes and sarcasm.
"Wanna hear a joke?"
"Answer the question, Mr. Weaver?" I yawn as loud as I can in the chair and lean back.
"1950s Red Cadillac. Why?"
"Because the killer drives a 1950s Red Cadillac, just like yours."
"So your gonna arrest me because I have good taste?" The detective closes the case file that lay in her hands and pushes it towards the middle of the table.
"We both know you did it Mr. Weaver. Why not just make it easier for yourself and confess?" I lean forward, fold my hands on top of the table and exhale a sharp breath of air. "Fine. Just let me ask you this. Why do you do it? What do you get out of it?"
"'Heroes always get remembered, but legends never die.' I'm not good at being good, and I'm not too bad at being bad."
"And this will make you a legend?" I smile at her confused face.
"Of course. Or I wouldn't be doing it."
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Keep in mind I do not condone any criminal activity, nor do I wish this story to become reality. This is for entertainment use only and is purely fiction. Please do not take anything said or done in this story as a good way to kick off your criminal carrier. I am not this type of person in real life, I just though this would be something cool to write about. Feedback is also greatly appreciated. Last but not least, a writing schedule is hard for me to program for many reason. I don't know when I will be able to post again though I hope it to be soon.