"Oh? The goal is to throw your boule..." He holds out the orb. "... as close to the…

"Oh? The goal is to throw your boule..." He holds out the orb. "... as close to the cochonnet as you can."

"That's the cochonnet." He points to a small wooden ball in the middle of the crater.

"Interesting. Tell me more about it."

"Well... first you draw a circle about a half a metre in diameter. We made ours out of rope," he explains. "Then the order of play is determined by a coin toss. You win it -- you get to throw the cochonnet."

"Then the players aim to throw their boules as close to the cochonnet as possible. They must stay in the circle and keep both feet planted."

"I think I get it. Thanks, Gaston!"

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry, officer." The senior is visibly shaking before you.

"Good. Gaston finally understands the rules now." An evil smile runs across his lips. "Let's see if it makes him a better petanquista."

Oh, he must have already figured out Gaston's cheating.

"What was that all about? Some experimental interrogation technique you're honing?"

"I was hoarding information and had a seizure. I'm fine now."

"I'm relieved to hear that." He peers at you over his glasses. "Are you well enough to move on to something else now?"

"Sure. We got a case to solve!" [Leave.]

"No. I want to talk to him. I promise it won't be about pétanque."

He sighs. "Hurry up then."

"Honestly, I don't know what it was."

"We should leave quickly before it happens again." He looks around. "Right now is a good moment."

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I know a Weird Cop when I see one." The lieutenant adjusts his glasses. "It doesn't work. Weird Cop only confuses the suspect and the Weird Cop himself, while all he should have done was ask normal questions."

Just please ask them normal questions.

"I don't like where this is going, officer. Don't you think we should do something else now?"

"You'll put that knowledge to good use in twenty... I mean fifty years. I'm sure of that officer."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about pétanque?"

"I could, but I'd rather not." He smiles. "I don't want to take up your time with trivial details, officer."

Is he denying you information, when you clearly requested it?! That's it. We're blowing the lid off this man-jar! You need to know... things!

"Trivial? Ha. Ahaha." (Grin at the man.) "You can still tell me, you know. Before anything happens."

"Uh..." Your keen interest is making him uncomfortable. "Then there's measuring the distance between the boule and the cochonnet. I always measure ours, but usually it's done by the player who threw last."

"The opponent has a right to re-measure if he has doubts about the result and..." He is trying to think of something else to say, but then -- seeing your beady eyes -- stops.

Can you believe this clown?! This is information you MUST have and he's stalling. Lives could be on the line and he's just running out the clock?!

"This is getting weird, better hit the brakes."

"So weird... what was that, officer?" The old man is visibly shaken, but tries to force a smile. "Actually, please, let's talk about something else."

Let's cool Mr. Fight-Or-Flight down, before he kills someone. He gets overstimulated. But seriously, enough with the pétanque already.

"I think that's all I need to know about pétanque."

"Stop stalling and talk, goddamnit! Is that all?! Cause I swear to god, if you're holding back..."

"Yes, officer, yes!!! I swear, I don't know anything else about pétanque! It's all I know, I swear!"

... aaaaaand that's how you break a man if the good cop and the bad cop have left for the day. Disturbing Cop to the rescue!

But do I really and why?

Yes, yes, you do. Knowledge is power, bathe in it, empower yourself, trust me.

All that blunt data must have triggered an information hoarding reflex of sorts. Think of it like a small seizure. It will pass.

"What do you mean, officer?" He looks startled.

Oh, he knows what you mean. Keeping it to yourself now, may yield some leverage if you ever need it.

"I saw what you did there, Gaston. How's your back?"

"Ugh... it's not very good, officer. I'm an old man and sciatica is gnawing on my joints." There's a look of hopelessness in his eyes. "Some days the pain is almost too much..."

He's faking.

That guy is a fraud.

If you wanna expose him, get straight to the point. If you start japing about old age, it's never gonna happen.

"Getting older does present a whole new set of challenges..." (Keep it to yourself.)

"Lately my eyes just aren't the same and even getting out of the bed is pretty difficult..."

"Should've built yourself a better body, Mossback. The kind that lasts." (Secretly flex.)

"Goddamn right, son!" The old soldier nods in agreement. "No use complaining about it."

"Easy now, René." He snickers. "I will join the seniors swimming class later, but right now I don't want to keep the officer waiting -- police business is usually urgent."

"The hangovers must be getting worse too... Don't think I used to lose my memory every time I had a little drink..."

"I know what you mean, officer," he says excitedly. "Then there's the blood sugar and don't even get me started on the bladder troubles..."

"Why don't the two of you get a tomb and take your whining there." He looks at you, disgusted. "I am ashamed to even stand in the same crater with you."

"Why don't you get a tomb yourself!"

"Already got one, smart ass." He utters through his teeth. "Comes with the rank and my service record."

"But not with a monetary pension unfortunately," the checkered suit snaps at his partner and turns to you. "What can I do for you, officer?"

That hurt. The man knows where to sting.

"That sounds blissful, but right now I've got some questions for Gaston."

"Of course, officer." He waits for you to speak.