A man in a grey suit and handcuffs waits with his hands folded and feet crossed under a cold metal table.

Here is a little scene sketch I did this evening. Enjoy!

Fag Break by oldtownpaul
Image courtesy of oldtownpaul.

A man in a grey suit and handcuffs waits with his hands folded and feet crossed under a cold metal table. He taps his thumbs together and glances around the room. A pale blue door opens and a man in black trousers and button up shirt comes in. He is thirty-five, forty, with greased black hair and a square stubbled jaw. He lets the door suck shut with a thwack that makes the grey man jump.

“How long you been sitting in here Ralph?”

“‘Bout an hour. They told me that Detective Sydney going to come by.”

“Detective Sydney’s gone home for the day. I’m detective Moray; I’ve taken special care in examining your case.”

Ralph’s jaw hangs open to one side. “They promised me I only had to talk to Sydney.”

Moray eases out a chair and sits. “I know they did Ralph, and they shouldn’t have done that, I apologize. I’m Detective Moray, like I said, and I’m going to do work with you from now on, all right?”

Ralph hides his face in his hands. Medium length white locks of hair spill over his knuckles. “I told them I didn’t want to talk to a man.”

“I’m told we’ve done what we could to accommodate you, but the female officers are refusing to interview you… Can you tell me why that is?”

Ralph’s face springs up from his hands, twists in pain, his lips part to speak; he holds out his hands and sobs aloud. After a moment he regains composure by biting his lower lip and taking three deep breaths through his nose. “Tell me what thing it is that disgusts them. Tell me that and you will have sold the greatest riddle mankind has pondered since the first man asked himself, ‘why?’ Oh, Detective, Marty was it? tell me why they do it.”

“Whom do you mean?”

“The officers.”

“You know why Ralph. Don’t you? It’s your aggressive behavior and reactions to their questions. Right?”

“I told them: I don’t know why I’m here; I’m scared and tired.”

“You’re scared and tired? Well I don’t think that explains, when Detective Sydney asked you why you raped Miss McCormac, you told her it was because ‘She looked at me like you are right now’. Do you think that explains it?”

“I want to go home.”

“I’m sure McCormac told you the same thing Ralph. Can you tell me what she said back to you?”

“She never said anything like that.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing, I never knew her.”

“Never knew her. Here’s the thing Ralph. I don’t believe you’re telling me the truth right now.”

“No one’s believed me since I set foot in this damn madhouse.”

“Well, you just told me that you and Miss McCormac don’t know each other, but last night when we brought you in, it sounded like you knew each other pretty well. You were shouting all about Miss McCormac. ‘McCormac you this and that,’ ‘I’ll kill you, you this and that.’ Do you see why I can’t believe you?”

Ralph’s face drips with mucous and tears. “You’re making a mistake, please listen to me!”

“I need you to listen to me Ralph. You’ve had your fun with the precinct. You’ve had your fun with our system. Now the games are over. Now I’m here, and I’ll be honest with you Ralph, I’m not going to make this pleasant for you if you decide to continue on like this. So cut the shit. Stop crying. You see, I only care about one thing and that’s finding out where this girl is and I’ll be here until you do. Do you hear me? Do you hear me you little puissant piece of scum? It’s just you and me the rest of the night, and I’m gonna enjoy myself.”

Ralph stops crying, lays his palms gently on the tabletop, and lowers his brow. “Here’s the thing Ray. I don’t have anything against guys like you. In fact, I couldn’t have asked for a better replacement to Detective Sydney.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because the women officers are far too cautious around rapists, whereas big dumb brutes like yourself are usually blind with rage.”

“That’s right. Rage is a good word.”

“No, no, I said ‘blind’ rage.”

“Rage is rage, there is no difference.”

“No?” Ralph says, sitting back in his chair and pouting his lip. “I suppose you’ll have to let me know.” Ralph lunges over the table, hands free from his binds and grabs a fist full of the detective’s hair. He raises the jagged end of the picked cuffs high over Moray’s face and drives it deep into his right eye.






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