The Good Detective

By: Shady Canary

The detective stepped into the interrogation room, registering the informant's appearance– red hair, aqua eyes, impeccable tweed jacket and pale undershirt –instantly. He paused in front of the table to calmly light a cigarette, taking a drag as he shook out the match. He then turned to the informant and spoke, the cig bobbing with his lips

"So, it has been brought to my attention that you may have some information for us regarding the murders that have been occurring over the past few weeks, this right?" His Jersey accent was rounded and condescending, and he regarded the subject coldly.

"It is." The reply was curt, with no revealing accent of any kind and held a slight raise in note at the end.

The detective tapped his cigarette over the single ashtray in the middle of the small table, the returned it to its perch in his mouth.

"So are you going to release any of this 'information'?"

"Yes." Again, the reply was short and to the point.

At the detective's annoyed stare, the informant spoke.

"You asked if I had any information, which I do, and if I was planning to release any of it, which I am, but you have yet to ask for any specific information, so I refrained from supplying the information without your request, detective." The informant had crossed his arms in front of his chest, an eyebrow raised in condescending amusement.

The detective's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Alright, wise-guy, Here's a question for you: Would you happen to know the identity of the murderer?" The detective did not expect the following answer.

"The murderer you are looking for was born to the name of Nathanial Weiss, born October 28th, turning twenty-eight years old this Wednesday. He goes by many names though, so don't bother searching for him. I won't even bother with a current description of him, because within a few days it will be useless due to the fact that he changes his appearance at least twice every week, sometimes more depending on the situation.

"He has even used one of these aliases to pose as a witness to one of his own crimes, knowing you would never suspect such a fragile and broken young woman of murder."

The detective's eyes had widened of their own volition, his face displaying his shock at the amazing amount of information pouring forth from the informant, information the department had been wishing for since the beginning of the horrific murders. Taking a drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash off of the tip, he chuckled.

"How do you know this? How do I know you aren't simply spouting stories to lead us astray for your own entertainment? Why should I believe you?"

A smirk graced the lips of the informant. "I have my sources detective, sources that wish to remain anonymous for the moment." A mischievous glint flashed in the informant's gaze, gone as quick as it came.

Taking a breath, the detective steeled himself. He couldn't let himself get carried away in the rush of information gained from the informant, information that may not even be true.

"What else do you know?" The detective prompted. The informant eyed him coolly, his demeanor relaxed and nigh at ease.

"Detective, I know how he cleans his weapons after a murder. I know the exact workings of his demented mind. I know what his first pet was named and how he killed it five years later." The informant leaned forward in his seat, crossing his arms on the table, and gazing at the detective with amused curiosity. "What exactly do you want to know, detective?"

The detective's mind was beginning to reel, spinning with questions and a growing uneasiness about the informant.

The informant smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded business-like on the table, and continued talking. "I suspect, Detective, that you are beginning to wonder how exactly I know all this, how any informant or source would manage to come across all this, and if the identification I supplied was legitimate.

"Well, Detective, to put your little mind to rest, I'll tell you. The identification I gave you was in fact a forgery, since my legal name is Nathanial Weiss, not 'Seth Able'." At this the detective's eyes widened in shock his mouth gaping open and the cig falling to the floor. The detective reached for his gun and found it missing, only to have it reappear in the murderer's steady grip, aimed at the detective's heart.

"It was pleasant meeting you, Detective." The murderer smiled and squeezed the trigger, a loud bang reverberating throughout the room as the man's limp body fell to the ground. The murderer then turned the firearm to the mirrored wall, firing twice, the glass shattering to the ground. Police began swarming in, the murderer firing into their bodies, dead aimed to their hearts or head, killing them instantly.

The gun clicked empty and the murderer smiled, a brilliant smile, as the entire police force pumped his body full of lead from the door way. When his body finally slumped to the ground, his body a red ruin, the police slowly inched their way into the interrogation room, gathering around the body of the accursed killer.

Though his body and chest was blown to shreds, his face had survived the onslaught, his joyous smile still gracing his blood spattered lips.