Conversation · Titus Hardie

"I don't. All I see is a cop who's about to kill himself -- again."

"Next he's gonna kill himself -- again." The tattooed man looks at you with disdain.

"He lost his partner, the binoclard. Cops can't function without their butt-buddies."

"I just showed you a breechloader -- that any child could have."

"A broken old broomstick is what you showed me -- but point taken." He nods.

Time to really close the deal. Show them the bullet.

(Hold out the bullet) "This is the bullet that did it -- 4.46 mm. The Belle-Magrave uses the same calibre."

The blond man looks at the mushroomed deathbringer in the evidence bag and says:

"Yeah, the bitch is jacketed alright. 4 mm too..."

"Whoaa...."

"Well, god damn..." His eyes follow the evidence bag back in your pocket. "It's not proof, but it's a possible murder weapon -- close to her. Too damn close."

He squints. "You have been thorough. I'll give you that."

Let's not get dramatic.

Of course.

You just showed him a breech-loading gun!

You don't know. Just be honest.

He doesn't wait for a response. "This goes against your short-range theory. If the murder weapon was military-grade, how did Ruby get it?"

"I've already established Ruby's running drugs. She could've smuggled guns too."

"Goddamn, that's just about your favourite topic isn't it?" Titus slaps his thigh. "Every fucking five seconds!"

You were warned not to bring it up. Your best shot here is to just back out of it.

He's about to blow his fuse.

"Fine, Titus -- I'm not getting into it, if it touches on your precious business."

"Okay, cop -- she's got connections." He shakes his head slowly. "I can see how she could have access to a gun -- that still doesn't mean she did."

That's all you needed. Doubt.

"All I'm saying is -- from what I saw in her cabin she'd have no trouble getting a gun."

"Trouble? This is Revachol -- even the roid-heads in the gym had a carbine. No one has trouble getting a gun. I still never saw her carry one."

He must be referencing some past case of theirs.

He's angry because he knows you're right. What he's saying only confirms your theory.

"I didn't say I'd prove she had the murder weapon -- just that we need to find her." (Move on.)

"I don't know, cop -- why don't you find your lost gun first?" The tattooed man bursts out laughing at his own joke.

Hey! Lost gun right here! Lost and found!

"Easy now, Al. This isn't comedy hour."

"Titus, we're not seriously considering it, are we?!" He almost gets up from his seat. "Ruby wouldn't do this... why would she do something like this?"

Phase III: Motive. The last component.

The big one. Get this and they'll give her to you. Remember, don't piss him off. That never works.

"Titus, you have to see it. Things don't add up -- we need to talk to her." (Move on.)

Silence. He looks around the room.

The old man in the corner nods.

A very small nod -- and a trickle of tobacco spit on his lip.

This is the only opinion he cares for.

"Yeah -- I see it." He puts his beer down. "There's one more thing I've been wondering about. Ever since you asked me where she is. Add it to your list of suspicions, if you want."

"I don't know." He smiles a peculiar smile. "I don't know where she went. She just up and left. Got real scared too. Wouldn't tell me where -- however hard I asked. Wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"She was afraid I would tell you." He looks you straight in the eye. "Maybe she was right. By now I probably would."

"She knew there's evidence on her -- and she knew we'd find it. This is typical suspect behaviour. Why fleeing is always incriminatory."

"Perhaps." He looks out of the window again. "Ask her if you find her. It won't be easy though. She made sure of that."

"You think she knew I'd find evidence against her?"

"It's not 'why did she kill him?' -- it's 'why did she organize the coverup?'."

"And I suppose you have a theory about that too, cop?"

"She could have just been covering up for herself, Titus."

"Think about it -- why go through all that effort? It was her idea, wasn't it? The hanging? You went along, but she suggested it."

The little man squints, eyes beady. "She had, like, a fully formed plan and shit. Right when she came back downstairs..."

"Really, Shanks? Klaasje wanted to talk to another girl, that's all. She was just the first one up there; I could've come up with that plan, if I'd been first."

Time for a logics demonstration.

"Shanky, let's assume you killed him..."

"I didn't do it, fucker! It wasn't my plan."

"You probably did though..."

"It's just a thought experiment. Think, Shanky, you killed him. You got up there. Shot him. Got down..."

"Would you prefer to go on trial with your buddies? As part of a lynch mob? Or alone, for committing murder?"

"Fuck you, man, I would never fuck my guys over like that." He squeaks with indignation. "Especially for some bird..."