09-11-2023, 12:33 AM
It was almost two weeks later when the dame walked in. She sauntered with her skinny pencil suit and her cigarette holder. She was the spitting image of someone you would call a dame, and to any other inspector likely an exciting prospect. For me I could tell she was trouble from the moment we first locked eyes.
“Allen Mackleby…” she crooned, giving a sly grin in my direction
“Stop smoking in my office.” I said in response, doing my best to not be intimidated
She scoffed and snuffed out her cigarette on my desk.
“You’ll find very quickly Mr. Mackleby, that I am not one who takes orders from people lower than me.” she said, a threatening lilt on the edge of her voice
“I don’t like smoking. I’m sure you respect that given this country’s history of cancer. Or are you not from around here?” I asked, doing my best to look unfazed
She threw back her head in laughter, her laugh almost a cackle that truly, truly made you uneasy. Are people just born to look, feel, and emanate villainy? This woman surely felt that way.
“I appreciate your trying to get information out of me so easily Mr. Mackleby, but I’m afraid it’s my turn now.” She replied, taking a seat, “I’m sure it kills you you can’t figure out who killed that poor woman in the fountain, doesn’t it?”
This woman was well and truly getting on my nerves.
“Can we just cut to the chase?” I asked, irritation framing every word
“Aww the poor inspector can’t solve a case…” she mocked, giving an exaggerated frown that very much made me want to reach across the table and strangle her, “Don’t worry though. It’s solved. And we’re pulling it from your case files. Here’s the information you’ll repeat to the public at your press conference tomorrow.”
She slammed a folder onto the table, delighting in the way it made me jump.
“You- what? You can’t do that! You’re pulling it from my files? What the hell is going on?” I yelled
“I’d advise you to be quiet Mr. Mackleby.” she snapped, her voice suddenly hard, cold, and angry
For the first time in my life I had the feeling I could be killed right here and now. People talk about fight or flight, the body’s instincts kicking in when they’re faced with immediate danger. I could feel the adrenaline pumping suddenly, I could feel my heart pick up, my body tense, my jaw clench. Fear. Primal fear.
I’ve never been scared to say I’m a man who can be scared. A man should be scared sometimes, especially in a job like mine. A fearless man is a dead man when a dozen guns are pointed at your head. But even then there was always an escape. I could run, I could hide, I could take cover. Not here. In my office I was trapped like a mouse in a cage. And something told me she could kill me without anyone noticing.
I silently slid the folder towards me, trying in vain to keep my hand from shaking. The contents were a load of horseshit. A clearly spun story of a meaningless prostitute killed by their pimp. God this country just loved blaming shit on the woman.
“You want me to sell this horsecrap to the public?” I asked in almost a whisper
“I want you to tell the public your findings. And those are your findings.” She said with a pleasant, poison laced grin
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do. If she was telling the truth, the case was out of my hands whether I liked it or not. Struggling now would just push that hook further into my mouth. And pure weakness is pure weakness, I wanted that woman out of my office.
“Thank you Mr. Mackleby.” she said, and she walked out the door
The next morning I walked out in front of a crowd of media representatives and cameras and I lied to all their faces.
Don’t tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same damn thing.
“Allen Mackleby…” she crooned, giving a sly grin in my direction
“Stop smoking in my office.” I said in response, doing my best to not be intimidated
She scoffed and snuffed out her cigarette on my desk.
“You’ll find very quickly Mr. Mackleby, that I am not one who takes orders from people lower than me.” she said, a threatening lilt on the edge of her voice
“I don’t like smoking. I’m sure you respect that given this country’s history of cancer. Or are you not from around here?” I asked, doing my best to look unfazed
She threw back her head in laughter, her laugh almost a cackle that truly, truly made you uneasy. Are people just born to look, feel, and emanate villainy? This woman surely felt that way.
“I appreciate your trying to get information out of me so easily Mr. Mackleby, but I’m afraid it’s my turn now.” She replied, taking a seat, “I’m sure it kills you you can’t figure out who killed that poor woman in the fountain, doesn’t it?”
This woman was well and truly getting on my nerves.
“Can we just cut to the chase?” I asked, irritation framing every word
“Aww the poor inspector can’t solve a case…” she mocked, giving an exaggerated frown that very much made me want to reach across the table and strangle her, “Don’t worry though. It’s solved. And we’re pulling it from your case files. Here’s the information you’ll repeat to the public at your press conference tomorrow.”
She slammed a folder onto the table, delighting in the way it made me jump.
“You- what? You can’t do that! You’re pulling it from my files? What the hell is going on?” I yelled
“I’d advise you to be quiet Mr. Mackleby.” she snapped, her voice suddenly hard, cold, and angry
For the first time in my life I had the feeling I could be killed right here and now. People talk about fight or flight, the body’s instincts kicking in when they’re faced with immediate danger. I could feel the adrenaline pumping suddenly, I could feel my heart pick up, my body tense, my jaw clench. Fear. Primal fear.
I’ve never been scared to say I’m a man who can be scared. A man should be scared sometimes, especially in a job like mine. A fearless man is a dead man when a dozen guns are pointed at your head. But even then there was always an escape. I could run, I could hide, I could take cover. Not here. In my office I was trapped like a mouse in a cage. And something told me she could kill me without anyone noticing.
I silently slid the folder towards me, trying in vain to keep my hand from shaking. The contents were a load of horseshit. A clearly spun story of a meaningless prostitute killed by their pimp. God this country just loved blaming shit on the woman.
“You want me to sell this horsecrap to the public?” I asked in almost a whisper
“I want you to tell the public your findings. And those are your findings.” She said with a pleasant, poison laced grin
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do. If she was telling the truth, the case was out of my hands whether I liked it or not. Struggling now would just push that hook further into my mouth. And pure weakness is pure weakness, I wanted that woman out of my office.
“Thank you Mr. Mackleby.” she said, and she walked out the door
The next morning I walked out in front of a crowd of media representatives and cameras and I lied to all their faces.
Don’t tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same damn thing.