A sturdy metal door guards the southwest entrance to the apartment building. It's locked.

A sturdy metal door guards the southwest entrance to the apartment building. It's locked.

This could be a way into the apartment building the smoking man vanished into.

"Hey, are you there? I've checked the backyard, but couldn't get in that way."

"Good. We've had enough problems with bums and drunks and thieves loitering in the hallway... You have no business here."

Knock again.

The door rattles again, but this time you hear an elderly woman's voice calling out from inside...

"Stop banging on the door! I'm not letting any more strangers inside."

"Hold on, who am I speaking to?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. Now go on, get out of here!"

From within comes the faint sound of a broom sweeping across the concrete floor.

"This is the police -- open the door."

"The police?! Everyone knows the police don't come around here.“ The hallways echoes with her cackle.

"But I'm not joking."

"No, I already told you, I won't be responsible for any more strangers getting into the building..."

"Go check the backyard door, maybe someone there will..." She trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Backyard door? With the smoker? You already were there. Didn't work.

Backyard door? There must be another entrance to the east.

"I need to talk to a young man in this building."

"Please, let me inside. It's cold out here."

Convince her that you're a real policeman.

You're well versed in the kind of threatening legalese that implies criminal liability but in fact has no meaning whatsoever.

Am I?

Obviously. Look at that vague yet threatening stuff spewing forth from your mouth...

"Ma'am, your non-compliance is hindering a police matter. I may be forced to refer you for potential prosecution."

"I know my rights! And don't you 'ma'am' me, boy!" the voice snaps back.

But the sweeping on the other side has stopped.

"Miss," the lieutenant jumps in, "would it help if we offered to show you our badges?"

Ah! It's like a carrot to the stick, sort of.

"Hold your horses..." You hear the click of a night latch, before the lady on the other side gets caught in a coughing spasm.

"I don't care about your stinkin' badge. Just come in," she manages to say with a wheeze.

Insufficiently deferential!

"Okay, miss, would it help if I showed you my badge?"

(Lie.) "I've got my badge right here, if you want to see it."

You already tried and all you got was hurt. Better not to try anymore. Then you won't get HURT.

You can't think of anything convincing. Time for some police brutality!

"Open up or I'm gonna breach this motherfucker!" (Kick the door.)

"No, you're not."

"You don't scare me, punk! I may be an old woman but I can still take the likes of you!"

"Ma'am, if you don't open this door, I'm gonna introduce you to a lateral vascular neck restraint -- and it's going to hurt."

"I'm gonna light this place up!" (Roll up your sleeves.)

"Kim, tell her we're real policemen!"

"Madam, I assure you we're real police officers," the lieutenant repeats dutifully.

There is no reply. Just faint sweeping sounds inside.

"Ma'am, we're looking for Billie Méjean's apartment. We have important news to deliver."

No reply. You can hear faint sweeping inside; a gust of wind blows through your clothes.

Knock.

The door rattles against your knuckles, but there's no response.

[Leave.]