Conversation · Titus Hardie

"I found someone who saw the hanging. A witness."

"A witness?" The tall man crosses his arms on his chest. "You ain't got shit. The locals would never come to you with this."

"That's just cop-tactics, Titus. Next he's gonna tell you one of us already rolled on the others -- and is in witness protection."

"My witness isn't a local."

Titus scratches the back of his head and asks: "Well, let's hear it then. Who is your mystery fella?"

He's not alarmed by the sudden appearance of a witness. But he is surprised.

This goes without saying, but nonetheless -- don't give out his name.

"Let's just say he's a high ranking government official -- and leave it at that."

"Yeah, right... like we wouldn't know if an MI plant was in our town." Titus looks over his shoulder to his men. "Nice try, right?"

MI is short for Moralintern. Moralintern is short for Moralist International, the coalition that runs Revachol.

"I've seen this shit a million times, Titus. Flyfishing -- they're desperate." He turns to you. "Tell us, copper, what wacky claims did he make?"

"The witness said he saw two people of Areopagite descent. And one Mesque."

"Areopagite?" He starts laughing. "Boss, I think he's trying to say me and Theo."

"Well yeah..." Titus nods. "What is confusing you? Eugene, Theo and Alain were there too. I already told you -- we were all there."

"The witness said it all looked like a surreal play."

"Those flaccid MI cocks with their culture language." The Mesque spits on the ground angrily. "Everything's a surreal play or a sublime whatever. Doesn't mean anything."

"It means the whole scene was long and drawn out. Like it was from a film."

"What is this fella's problem?!" The little guy addresses everyone and no one. "Sorry, we didn't make it more action-packed. It wasn't the first thing on our minds you see."

"Shanky -- it's Shanky, right?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "I thought there's something wrong about the lynching story. Now I know there was."

"You don't know shiiiiiit!"

"I know you're lying, Shanky." He writes in his notebook.

You didn't break this wagon fort, but you did manage to rattle the people inside a bit.

"It means the whole scene was long and drawn out. Like a movie."

"That means absolutely nothing to me," he says taking a sip from his can. "Sounds like some made-up horse shit."

"Actually nothing."

"Great witness!" He must be really parched, because he takes a giant gulp of beer.

Okay, maybe it doesn't feel like this did anything to them -- but they have to be fretting a little. Everyone is afraid of witnesses. Witness is a scary word.

So much bluster to hide the fact that they're uncomfortable with you having this info.

"Enough about the witness."

"Yes, enough of Charles Villedrouin from Rue de Saint Ghislaine 33-B."

An almost inaudible whisper from the lieutenant: "Damn..."

"Whatever, man. You're really wasting our time with this shit."

"Some witness... I pulled the same shit. Came up with some shit -- then went and said it to people. Get a reaction. Don't have to go to cop school to try that."

"You don't have to go to school for shit -- I never went to school and I'm doing great!"

"You doing a hell of a job, man! Hell of a job!"

"The witness said the end is here, the great undoing. We will all be vapour."

"Vapour, huh?" He glances at Alain. "Well, that checks out at least."

"For the record -- which I have to type up later tonight -- no apocalypse related testimony was provided to us by the witness."

"Check out the stand-up comedians the RCM has. When are we gonna get funnymen like that?"

"The witness said the hanging went down very quietly. No shouting, no commotion."

"It's you assholes that feel the need to go around like a fucking brass band -- the Hardie boys are dead silent."

"Yeah! It's like they put cowbells on you before they send you to the streets." He says provokingly. "What's with the cowbells, police man?"

They're avoiding having to answer this question.

"I'd imagined you guys drinking and singing lynching songs. What's with the funeral silence?"

"We were drinking!" He looks around. "Weren't we guys? I hit the bottle hard. I was drunk as fuck."

"Right. I'm convinced, Glen." He nods sarcastically. "Nothing off here. Just a regular hanging."

Bullseye! Glen looks around uncomfortably. The lieutenant hit a nerve.

Never mind.

Yes. Of course. Be polite with the suspects...

Damn, they wormed their way out of it. Somehow... try something else if you can.

"Charles Villedrouin, a high ranking government official from Rue de Saint Ghislaine 33-B."

You can almost see the blood curdle in the lieutenant's veins. Miraculously he remains silent.

Not only his name, but his address... You are a goddamn menace.

"So some Moralintern cronie," he says with great reproach. "What did he tell you? I bet he had a dead hooker situation, if he came to Martinaise."

"Who he is is irrelevant."

"It's like you said, Al." He turns to the man on his left. "Copper's coming up with this on the spot. There is no witness."

"Let's just drop this."

"Your fake witness?" Titus rubs his chin. "Yeah, let's do that before this gets embarrassing."

"I just found a bullet -- in the hanged man's head."

"A bullet, you say?" He pats the back of his head. "That's mighty curious."