"Guess what -- I've come upon something incriminating."

"Because we took it," he says, "from the harbour where we work. Then we went out back and used it to hang him."

As he speaks, his fists contract, going through the pulling motion again, savouring it.

"We did this," -- he looks you dead in the eye -- "together. All of us. Until he was dead. That's why there's a container belt around his neck."

"I have spoken to the dead man -- in a bizarre occult vision."

"That is fucking bizarre. A magic-man, a goddamn magician..." he shakes his head.

The lieutenant waits for your reply. Patiently. His foot taps only a little.

Just keep it simple. He said they killed him. These uninitiated do not understand the fineries of Runic Science.

(Lie) "He told me it was you who killed him. Why is that?"

"Well," he says. "You're not completely off. We did kill him -- we took him out back and hung him by the neck. Until he was dead."

As he speaks, his fists contract, going through the pulling motion again, savouring it.

"We did this --" he looks you dead in the eye, "-- together. All of us. Last Sunday night. So maybe... that's why he told you what he told you?"

"He said communism killed him."

"Well, what'cha chatting me up for then? Go arrest communism before it skips town."

"Yeah, go arrest communism!"

"We had something else. Beside the occult vision..." He turns to you.

We had to have something. His foot-tapping has become less patient now.

You had something other than the bizarre vision too, right? You better have something, because this didn't work.

"Honestly, the occult vision was too confusing for me to understand."

"I'm getting a bizarre message from Angus's stomach right now. It says... wait, what is it saying, Angie?"

"Says they ain't got shit, boss."

"He said love did him in."

"Well well, fortune teller." He squints at you, assessing your sincerity. "You might be on to something -- they don't just end up in trees for nothing."

There was a speck of truth in there for him. You accidentally touched something.

"Why's there a container belt around the dead man's neck?"

"Container belt? Like we use in the harbour?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I wanna talk about the hanging again."

"Again? Someone ask the guy for an autograph -- you cops are his biggest fans."

A burst of laughter in the room; the little guy is the loudest. "Good one, Titus!" he fawns.

"The man hanged in the backyard -- did you do it?"

"So you're not just here to swing your big dick -- you're here for the Pretty Boy? A real looker that one..." He shakes his head. "Stinks like shit too."

"They love him, boss. Spent all day digging around in there. Can't get enough of that Pretty Boy smell."

"Funny," the lieutenant says without a smile. "But my partner and I have a serious matter to discuss with you."

Evidence. Show them you have it. It doesn't have to be conclusive.

Just keep talking. Put something on the table. Something incriminating.

"They couldn't get him down boss. He's still up there, stinking up the place." The small guy smirks.

"The Pretty Boy?" He takes a sip from his can. "You guys really love talking about that Pretty Boy..."