The Awkward Truth

“Let’s start again, Jeffrey,” said the police officer. He had his sleeves rolled up, he was smoking. The room was stuffy.

“I’ve already told you.”

“I have more questions.”

“All right,” Jeffrey was giving up, “What do you want to know about?”

“What were you doing at the Henderson house last night?”

“I wanted to see Marsha, but her father told me she was not there.”

“And what made you stick around?”

“I thought she would come along soon.”

“Where did you wait?”

“Across the street, at the monument.”

“And then what happened?”

“When the lights went out, I wanted to see. I came closer.”

“And then what happened?”

“Look,” Jeffrey snapped, “I did what had to be done. I killed a very evil man.”

The police officer frowned. He put out the cigarette and shifted. He looked like somebody who is trying to figure out a difficult math problem. “So… Why do you think Mr. Henderson was evil?”

“Isn’t it obvious? His family was one of the four founding families. They were the ones who made all the streets in the shape of a pentagram. The architects. Mr. Henderson introduced cockroaches in the 1980s. What for? Who knows. He was a…” Jeffrey covered his face with his hands and started massaging it. “Look, I’m tired. Could I have some sleep? I get hazy when I can’t get my sleep.”

The police officer continued to look puzzled.

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