Flux

career must be a stressful one judging by the deep lines on his face, greying hair and the first signs of gout starting to appear on his thread veined nose.
    “I’m Detective Inspector Rodgers,” started the first man who’d led Iain into the room, “and my colleague is Detective Inspector Tailor. We’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s OK? The interview will be recorded and anything you say will be used as evidence.” He paused for a while. Inspector Tailor stayed quiet. “Do you understand that Mr Andrews?”
    Iain nodded and made a small, weak grunting sound to show he did.
    “Good. Would you like a solicitor present? We can appoint one if you don’t already have representation.”
    Do I look like I have representation? Was what Iain thought. “Uh, no, I’ll be OK,” were the words which escaped his lips. You’re fucked anyway.
    “Tell me what happened then?” Inspector Rodgers started while the other man still remained silent: Staring intently at Iain with deep, dark brown eyes which seemed capable of seeing right into a person and uncovering lies hidden deep within; either trying to get the measure of the suspect or intimidate without the use of threats. In reality, it was a mixture of both. It was surprising just how many criminals cracked under that stare; breaking down and giving full confessions without a single word being uttered.
    “It wasn’t me!” Iain’s reply
    “You’ll do yourself no favours by not telling the truth.”
    “I swear it wasn’t.”
    “Do you know who did it then?”
    Iain thought about the question for a while before replying. “Erm – no,” sheepishly looking at the ground.
    “We’re not idiots. You have to tell the truth!”
    Iain thought silence to be the best policy, until he could think of something plausible to say. Although, by now he knew himself to be royally screwed. Inspector Rodgers sighed and got up from where he’d been sitting on the plastic chair. “Have it your way.” He gave a glance in the direction of the other detective.
    “Look we know it was you. When you were arrested, we went into your flat and found the remains of your dinner. One plate, one knife, one fork. You didn’t have guests did you Mr Andrews!” a statement rather than a question.
    “well-erm.”
    “And I’m willing to bet that your DNA matches that found on the body of Father Tim Humphries.”
    “What?” Iain felt like he’d been punched in the face and nearly fell off his chair. “What’s happened to Tim? I only saw him recently.”
    The two detectives shared a slightly confused look. “Don’t play dumb with us, it won’t wash.”
    “Really. What’s happened to Tim?”
    “Mr Andrews: He was found partially eaten in his chapel, much the same way Gary Fisher was. Are you trying to tell us you knew nothing about it, because I find that to be too much of a coincidence being as, according to the hospital CCTV footage, you were the last person to see him alive.
    Iain stuttered, his jaw fell open and he stared blankly at the two men sitting opposite.

    “Interview suspended at;” Inspector Rodgers looked down at his cheap watch, “16:42.” Iain was led back to the cells.

    The two detectives made their way to the vending machine for tea. Both men grimaced at the first sip of the overly hot – how do they make it so hot in those machines? – yet weak-tasting drink. They then pushed the bar on the fire escape and let themselves into the back yard of the police station for a cigarette, both leaning back on a large wheeled bin.
    “So, what do you reckon then Geoff?” asked inspector Rodgers, exhaling his smoke loudly.
    Geoff Tailor appeared thoughtful, he scratched his chin as if smoothing a goatee which didn’t exist; “I believe he thinks he’s telling the truth.”
    “Come again?” quizzical.
    “Oh, he did it alright, but he doesn’t think he did,” chewing on his lower lip.
    “Nut job?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Fuck. Reckon we need to fetch the shrink?”
    “Let’s wait. Find out what he believes happens.”
    “This should be interesting.” He wore a puzzled frown on his face.
    The men went back in through the fire door, banging it closed behind them.

    “Interview resumed at seventeen o five.” All three men were now seated as before and ready to continue. Iain had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    “Come on Mr Andrews; we know you’re not telling us everything.”
    “Please. It wasn’t me I’m telling