Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"FUCK WITH US AND GET FUCKED."

"Mhm."

"How should we lay down the next Law?"

"We are the fucking Law."

"Yes, it would seem we are -- both -- from the police."

Check out the big brains on Harry Du Bois!

Check out the big brains on Harry Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is!

Check out the big brains on whatever your name is!

"Do you have any ideas, lieutenant?"

"Someone operating a work bench -- with a pedal? Like a joiner at the harbour?" He thinks for a second. "Or maybe a drummer..."

He regrets it the moment he says it.

"So one of the people we are looking for is a drummer?"

"No, it's not. Forget I said it, we're not looking for a drummer."

"Perhaps it could be a driver?" He raises his index finger. "A driver would wear out their right shoe before the left. The accelerator is on the right."

"Interesting. If only I had come up with that idea."

He doesn't seem to hear you, looking south toward the traffic jam instead. The machines are silent, the engines are all turned off...

"I was actually thinking the exact same thing."

Nod thoughtfully.

"A drummer? That's stupid."

"A drummer only uses their right foot for the kick drum..." He explains, then stops and looks at the hole in the mud. "You're right, it's stupid."

"Perhaps it could be a driver? A driver would wear out their right shoe before the left. The accelerator is on the right."

Don't say anything, just nod.

"I don't know why I said that. We're not looking for a drummer, we're looking for a group of dockworkers."

The lieutenant clearly appreciates the chance to clear up the drummer issue himself.

A normal human being like Lieutenant Kitsuragi here needs to pause before they know whose shoe this is. Not you. You literally feel the association taking shape in your torque bent frontal lobe.

You can almost feel the association taking form in your frontal lobe:

[Leave.]

"So. Our Odd Sole wasn't in the back of the Whirling?"

"I don't know..." He inspects the odd sole more closely. "They're about the same size. Not the same boot, no -- but they could be the same person."

"It still doesn't rule Ruby out. People change shoes, after all. But this isn't an argument for her guilt either."

"What do you think happened here?"

"What do I think? A mob of people brought something heavy to the tree. One of them was carrying the victim. They shuffled around, especially under the tree."

"Then after hoisting him up, they stood in a semicircle facing his direction. At first glance, this appears to be a lynching."

Indeed, they all stood in a row here and looked at the tree.

"But we know the victim had a bullet in his head. A more precise way to put it is: it was made to look like a lynching."

"Like the Coalition official said... surreal like a play."

"Exactly. They had to perform it to whoever was looking -- the whole neighbourhood, I suppose." He adds: "And us too."

"We've been purposefully mislead?"

"By these tracks, yes."

"So far so good -- only one thing missing." He looks at the tracks, face lighting up from the realization.

Of course, there were eight tracks! But there are only seven Hardie boys.

Let him have his moment of joy.

"There's one pair missing from the Union box. The eighth pair. I'm going to say it was our odd-sole."

"So, the odd-sole was present at the lynching, but isn't in the mess hall right now."

"Yes." He corrects his glasses. "I doubt the Hardies are going to tell us much, but we should still confront them about the possible drug trade connection."

"Yes." He corrects his glasses. "I doubt the Hardies are going to tell us much, but we should still confront them about the possible drug trade connection."

"Yes." He corrects his glasses. "I doubt the Hardies are going to tell us who this person is. For now it's best if we just keep our eyes open -- I'm sure our investigation will eventually lead us to the odd-sole."

"I know. Eight tracks, seven Hardie boys."

"Mhmh. Which one is missing do you think?" He quickly adds: "I'm going to say it was our odd-sole."

He's not going to let you steal his thunder twice.

Yes! Everything fits so well. Carried him over, hoisted him up, watched him hang -- this is easy!

Isn't it strange to have your assumptions confirmed like this? This is what someone whispering suggestions in your ear would like you to feel.

"I think we have a firm understanding of what happened here."

The lieutenant's eyes narrow. He's thinking to himself.

A doubt perhaps? It would be unprofessional of him to be sure of himself at such an early stage of the investigation.

"Either way..." he concludes. "What else?"

"We should withhold being content."

The lieutenant is saying something, but you can't hear it... Suddenly it seems like your tie is alive again, whispering -- no, screaming -- into your ear:

What, WITHHOLD BEING CONTENT?! What are you, mild to moderately disabled? That doesn't feel like something you should do.

Live a little! Everything on the god damn crime scene fits like a glove, you should get SHITFACED on this GOD DAMN CRIME SCENE!