"Reckless traffic hooliganism."

"Reckless traffic hooliganism."

"What kind of car do you think it was?"

"I believe it was a Linnea G22."

He seems impressed. "That's quite likely, from what I can tell."

"I have some ideas about who it might have been."

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"It had to be someone really cool and courageous."

"I suppose that narrows it down somewhat. Fortunately, we're not traffic cops. Should we get back to the murder?"

"On second thought, maybe this doesn't really warrant an investigation." [Leave.]

"Let's move on. We've learned all we can here." [Leave.]

Try to come up with a convincing explanation for the driver's actions.

Somewhere in the depths of your alcohol-addled soul, you find a few threads that you can weave into a story.

"This could have only been..." (Pause dramatically.) "... Jacob Irw."

"The TipTop Tournée champion?"

"After the untimely death of dear friend and fellow racer Alfie Deletraz at Fjordhammer, Jacob Irw was desperately chasing death on the race track -- but death eluded him."

The lieutenant patiently listens to the words coming from your mouth.

"After quitting in frustration, he became a recluse, a ghost-driver, searching for death on the streets of Revachol, speeding..."

"... jumping canals at night?" He interrupts you. "If I was Jacob Irw I wouldn't drive in Martinaise. The roads are awful."

Shut down.

"In conclusion -- it's a colourful theory, but I don't believe Jacob Irw did this. Should we go?"

You've thought of a very touching story. It's shit, though.

That's okay, I love shit stories.

Well, you're in luck, then.

"See, Kim, what happened here is -- the driver was a man whose wife was about to give birth..."

Yes, this is good, this is very good.

No, it's shit.

"He was out drinking with his pals when he got the news, and, flushed with paternal pride, he got into his Coupris at once and raced to the clinic..."

"Yes, yes, that could very well have been it. Now let's move on. We're not traffic cops."

Maybe I shouldn't tell it if it's shit.

Nope, you're already telling it.

The urge is strong, but you are stronger.

"No, we need to find this Jacob Irw before tragedy strikes." (Take the task.)

He sighs. "If we must."

I'm not expecting him to get far with this, the lieutenant consoles himself.

"We should bring this driver to justice." (Take the task.)

"Actually, never mind, I need more evidence to come up with a list of suspects."

"We're not traffic cops. Should we get back to the murder?"

"It was someone dangerous. Perhaps this is somehow connected to the murder?"

"The traffic hooliganism? I hope not. Fortunately, we're not traffic cops. Should we get back to the murder?"

"Yeah, I have no idea. Who could it have been?"

The lieutenant shrugs. "We're not traffic cops. Should we get back to the murder?"

"I think it was a Coupris 40."

"I have no idea."

"I suppose it's not really our job to figure that out."

"Some top-shelf shenanigans. I want to meet the driver and shake his hand."

"I don't care and it's not really our concern." [Leave.]

"You're right." He straightens his back. "Let's get back to the murder investigation."

"It looks like someone was in a real hurry."