Special Chapter: Michael's POV

I wrapped my right hand with gauze after cleaning the wound and dabbing some ointment on them. This was the fruit of my scrupulous journey to capture the vice-mayor Olive.

Knowing that Sinclair and I were at an impasse, I had called over three of my most trusted and dependable colleagues. They were my batchmates from the crime division, whom I’ve worked with in several occasions before.

As much as possible, I always wanted to do things by the book but during exigent circumstances like this, there was always Sinclair who took it to the extremes. So, other than during interrogations, I never felt compelled to be furtive ever since she came along.

It was three hours ago, when we were finally able to escort the esteemed vice-mayor to the station, a lot of nosy busybodies, and some local newscasters tailed the our vehicles.

I knew Timothy Olive Sr. held a certain amount of influence as an experienced, shrewd and silver-tongued bureaucrat. He didn’t appear the slightest bit concerned nor fraught while he sat inside the interrogation room. Looking through the two way mirror, he was isolated inside the plain-looking room yet still composed, confined in a small space yet appearing like everything’s in his complete control.

“He looks like he’s got a strong mentality.” Beatrice was preparing the lie detector for polygraph tests, when she looked up at the ever calm suspect with a grim expression. “I don’t think psychological coercion would easily crack this man.”

Daniel was rubbing his chin in thought, his sharp almond eyes narrowing through his silver-rimmed glasses. He hummed in agreement before scribbling an expensive calligraphy pen on his clipboard.

“I’ll play the good cop this time, Mike!” Justin’s grinning face was reflected under the flourescent light. The laugh lines around his curved mouth and his rich tanned skin made him look like a pleasant character, fooling others to overlook his hulking figure and rippling muscles underneath his v-neck shirt.

I’ve seen Justin throw another full grown man against the ceiling before, so I knew that underneath that smiling face, he could be as brutal as a Viking on a rampage.

“Naturally,” I concurred, grabbing my mug of black coffee as the two of us headed to the interrogation room.

Up close, Olive Sr. looked like the typical stallion predator. He was oozing with charisma and sex appeal despite having white hair. His appearance was rugged and calm, almost cocky. It was no wonder that I keep catching wind of his office and extracurricular affairs as if it were the town’s official open secret.

Justin did his part, playing good cop and introduced himself with a flurry of excitement, exchanging pleasantries with the big white wolf.

When it was my cue to speak, I went directly to business. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Why am I here?” he threw back.

Instead of giving a straight answer, I began to tell him the leads we found. “On the 9th of October at approximately ten in the morning, we found a dead body in your private property by the south side of Sylvan. I believe you have an idea which property I’m speaking of, am I correct?”

“Naturally,” he conceded in a lofty manner, his bearded chin raised confidently. “I only have one property in the south of town. So, you discovered this body only yesterday? You sure move fast.”

Ignoring his rhetorical question, I continued, “The body is estimated to be dead for more than two or three weeks now and is decomposing. What were you doing during that time period? The places you frequent to, and the people you spend time with…”

Starting from there, I grilled him for alibies and began to interrogate him using leading questions, to which he only snorted or shook his head in amusement. I also added embellishments that sounded ambiguously accusatory, throwing a random pile of documents on the table’s surface with a grim expression.

To my chagrin, his eyes only glanced briefly at the folder before meeting my gaze. His eyes were glinting with humor, the corners of its crow’s feet crinkling all the more. “Detective, you must think I’m ignorant of these pretext and machinations of yours. Setting me up to answer such leading questions. I’m a veteran politician and I’ve familiarized myself with the Miranda Warning like how a scientist does with the periodic table of elements. I choose silence and await for my lawyer.”

I was already aware of this fact. I could’ve prolonged his arrest to find more proof, but time was not on our side, and I was forced to rely on my tenacity to force him to spill something out. Sinclair had given me multiple pointers which were still inconclusive. So, I cannot bring myself to reveal all our cards yet.

I took out a photographs of the victim’s watch and earrings. “Do you know whose jewelries these are?”

Olive Sr. shot a brief glance at the photos without a single change in his expression, and remained silent. I still can’t decide whether he was truly innocent or just very good at acting. But I was suspecting a few things; one there was a huge chance that he may not be the real killer. And two, either the dead woman or the killer was related to him in some way.

If he were really the murderer, he would’ve disposed of the body a long time ago and eradicated any evidence of the said deed.

“I’m well informed of your extramarital affairs, vice-mayor. It’s no secret that you have a fetish for blondes and the victim herself just happened to be a blonde woman. Do you think we haven’t traced every single one of your women? They can speak against you in court for adultery too.”

The vice-mayor raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. “Which case are you handling? Adultery or murder?” The more questions he answered, the narrower my leads are checked off. He just seemed unconcerned of the underlying threat of public discovery.

If it’s not one of his adulteresses, then whose body could it be? Was the dead body left in his property as a threat to him? Was he being framed by someone? Such as a political rival? Or could he be just used as a scapegoat of a crime?

Using the knowledge of his preference of the opposite sex, and killing off an unsuspecting blonde woman in his unguarded property, it was such an easy ploy to implicate the vice-mayor.

“If you’re hiding something, you better spill them out or else－”

“Else what? Just because she was killed and found in my property doesn’t make me the killer,” he rebutted which struck true. “You don’t have any proof of my guilt.”

“I’m not necessarily accusing you of murder… yet,” I retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t be so tense.”

“Easy, easy. Let’s not get too caught up in this. A suspect is innocent until proven guilty, right?” Justin interrupted in an easygoing mood. “Though the vice-mayor sure got entangled with a lot of women according to our investigation, so you might recognize the victim’s properties.”

Justin allowed his words to trail off, giving time for the vice-mayor to process the hidden meaning. I would be shocked if he falls into the trap. With his proud personality, he wouldn’t allow a stain to his reputation let alone be in any association to a murder.

Before anything was said though, we heard three successive loud rapping sounds against the door. With my temper brewing in anger, I pushed my chair back and pulled the door open abruptly.

I was about to give Officer Hussein a piece of my mind about disrupting my progress in the interrogation, when I noticed a blonde woman in a tight-fitting three-piece suit standing beside him. Her coat jacket and skirt were a matching pair of indigo blue color and hugged her slim curves perfectly.

“This is Attorney Denmark, the vice-mayor’s lawyer,” Hussein introduced her.

The woman eyed me up and down shamelessly as though she wasn’t here for work but for play. I frowned at her lustful gaze when she extended a delicate hand toward me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, detective,” she articulated in a sultry bedchamber voice.

I grasped her hand firmly and gave it a firm shake before dropping it like a hot potato. “Likewise.”

“I’d like to have a private conversation with my client, if you’d please allow it.” There was no need for her to tell me about her purpose there. I began to mentally curse the lawyer who promptly arrived before I could complete inquisition.

Gritting my teeth, I called Justin out and made our way back to the observation room. Officer Hussein and Atty. Denmark made their way inside the interrogation room and motioned to us for privacy.

At that time, there were bodyguards who stayed by the lobby when I went to grab another cup of coffee. I was heavily relying on caffeine to keep myself up since I haven’t had dinner yet. Plus, I was waiting for Olive’s son and nephew to arrive. It might seem unscrupulous to involve a child here but since the wife was away, I had no other means to evoke guilt or conscience from a hardened bureaucrat like him.

It was Beatrice who had called to inform the nephew who happened to be the manager of the hotel that Sinclair is staying in and whom I had recently spoken to yesterday. With Beatrice’s power of suggestion, the nephew naturally thought to provide emotional support or comfort to the vice-mayor by bringing the son over.

I had my own misgivings about this. Nevertheless, I was expecting an emotional impact to take effect against Olive Sr. No father wants their children to see them fall or stumble in such a state because they are the foundation of their home. And the vice-mayor should be no different from any other fathers out there.

What I didn’t expect was when I returned to the lobby, I suddenly received a hard punch against my left cheek, causing me to drop my porcelain mug on the spot. My vision blurred for a moment and I stumbled back a few steps from the impact but quickly righted myself to defend.

I raised my fists to shield my face to get a better look at my attacker. Somewhere in the background, I could hear surprised yelps and exclamations from random citizens waiting by the lobby and officers rushing to our direction.

Unexpectedly, I felt a painful blow from behind me, knocking against my hamstrings. The force and area of the strike almost made me fall to my knees, but I deftly dodged to my right, evading another set of assaults.

When I got back my focus, I didn’t hold back on my punches and sidekicks, maneuvering my body like lightning. The two were down before anyone could intercept. That was how I’ve come to sustain injuries inside the police station.

Justin had deftly captured the two troublemakers by the scruffs and drag them unceremoniously into the prison cells while I headed to the washroom to remedy the bristles on my knuckles. I had the underlying suspicion that the sudden attack against me was not coincidental and without unreasonable cause.

This wasn’t the outcome I had expected when I refused to take an “amiable” approach with this investigation, as Sinclair would put it. I just can’t suck it up and befriend the vice-mayor and his closest acquaintances for a bit of information. Only the fictional character Sherlock Holmes would go through such lengths to solve a mystery.

Sinclair’s strategies may be crude and bizarre at times, but no one could deny her mastery of manipulation and unnatural craft in obtaining people’s trust. I didn’t have her naturally blithe cheerfulness nor bewitching charm which could easily mesmerize and beguile people into her hands. Before anyone can realize her true motives, she can easily have everyone wrapped around her fingers and like a masked puppeteer, bend them to her will.

Sinclair may not look like it, but she’s a dangerous opponent. I would never know what’s underneath that cheeky smile of hers.

For the few weeks I had spent working with her when she was still fourteen, I had thought she was just a typical teenage girl. Clever-clever, conceited, self-assured and impulsive.

Until, she solved the first case I had collaborated with her and revealed the surreptitious methods she had performed right under my nose. I had felt a sense of dread back then when I realized how a beautiful child could be so deceptive.

A person don’t have any other choice except to admire her or be envious of her. Otherwise, they’d feel both contrasting emotions.

It’s not that Sinclair doesn’t have the right to be unpleasantly confident with her talents. Rather, it’s exactly because she had the talent and the confidence that most people feel conflicted with their impression of her.

I would never forget that moment, when I found her chipper smile morph into a sly one as the man she been speaking to turned around after bidding her goodbye. The scene had given goosebumps. Ever since then, I wondered if every expression she shows me is the real one. Always wondering, barely comprehending, yet I never strayed far from her despite such consternation.

Staring at my reflection through the mirror of the washroom, I thought, ‘Sinclair, why do you always plague my thoughts despite knowing I’d get hurt?’

As if by some divine providence, my phone suddenly vibrated. It was an unknown number but I could tell the caller was using the landline. When I answered the call, sure enough, it was Sinclair herself.

“Hey, Mikee!” she drawled out in her usual playful tone.

I was about to cut her off amid her greeting, thinking how she could be such a jinx at times when I’m thinking of a certain devil. However, her first words got me choking back my own.

“I’m injured right now, so I can’t drive myself. Come pick me up pretty please…”

Instantly, after hearing she was injured, I dropped everything and hurried to her location. I was injured myself, but at least, I could still drive. Sinclair, on the other hand, had said that she could not, which had me contemplating on the gravity of her injuries the entire way.