THE INTERROGATION
ALM No.91, July 2026
SHORT STORIES
The sweet aroma of coffee came from a cup on a cheap wood desk. Detective Shawn Murphy darted his eyes back and forth from the cup to the man inside the interrogation room. The man was whistling a tune that Shawn remembered from childhood. It was a tune he hated. It wasn’t just the tune he hated, but also the pain in his knees from standing too long. There was a patrol officer sitting at a wooden desk near Shawn. He was rubbing his eyes.
“Want some coffee?” Shawn asked.
The patrol officer shook his head, “I’m fine. Thanks,” he said.
The door to the observation room opened and Shawn’s boss, Lt. Michael Cassler walked through. He was holding a court order. He joined Shawn and the other officer.
“Finally came through, you got an hour to nail this guy.” Cassler said.
“We’re still waiting on the footage from our lab tech,” Murphy said.
“Less than an hour now. Do you really want to wait and risk him walking out?” Cassler asked, pointing at the man in the interrogation room.
The mission was set and there wasn’t much time. With his file between his arm and ribs, Shawn entered the interrogation room. It was plain and uninviting. The single desk in the middle was made of metal. Two chairs at the table, one was already occupied. The whistling of the song didn’t stop when Murphy entered. It was now accompanied by finger drumming on the desk.
The remaining empty chair was pulled back and Shawn sat down. The pain he felt in his knees went away. He opened the file on the man. His hands were placed on the desk, deliberately. The desk was cold to his skin. Murphy couldn’t tell if the man noticed the cold metal—or simply didn’t care.
“David Peters, I’m detective Murphy, you were arrested earlier this morning by officer Manners. I’m here to ask you a couple questions.” Shawn said.
The tapping stopped all at once. David was looking up whistling then slowly looked at Shawn. His whistling slowed until he stopped entirely. When he opened his mouth, he spoke with precision.
“May I have a coke?” David asked.
Several teeth were missing. The stench rolling off him reminded Murphy of a dumpster being left in the sun. Every observation was being written by Shawn on note cards stapled in the file.
“After I ask my questions, I’ll make sure you get it. David, are you aware of why you were arrested?” Shawn asked.
David nodded his head, “For murder. But I haven’t killed anyone.”
“What is your relationship with Angela Bonnet?”
“She’s a neighbor. Was she killed?”
“Yes.”
David looked down, “She was nice to me.”
“Do you have any idea why she was killed?”
David sat back. His eyes were on his hands as his thumbs touched the tips of his other fingers. After a few moments he shook his head no. He opened his mouth to say something and leaned forward but then sat back again and shook his head.
A picture was unclipped from the file and slid over to David. Using his pointer finger, Shawn tapped on it three times, harder than normal. The picture showed a ratty tent by shrubs and other bushes. Dressed in nice clothes, Angela was pulling her arm away from a dirty looking David who was on a knee by the open flap of the tent.
“We couldn’t get an official address on you, David. This doesn’t look exactly like an apartment to me. That doesn’t look too nice. Why is Angela pulling away from you?” Shawn asked.
The air vents kicked on, and cold air flowed into the room. Even with the temperature dropping, sweat was beginning to bead on David’s forehead.
“I want a lawyer.” David said.
The picture is put back in the file and Shawn shakes his head, disappointed. He gets up and tucks the chair in then walks to the door and goes back into the observation room. Shawn puts the file on the desk there and his boss looks at him with his hands outstretched.
“We have 30 mins before his lawyer gets here. We gotta crack this guy.” Shawn’s boss said.
Just then the door opens from deeper in the police station and a lab tech with a laptop walks in. The tech sits at the desk and opens the laptop.
“You need to see this,” The tech said to Murphy.
The play button is pressed and the video plays for several seconds. Glances are exchanged between Shawn and his Boss.
The interrogation room door is opened and Shawn comes in again, wrinkling his nose. The air feels almost as if it’s frozen. Beads of sweat on the table began to stiffen in the cold. He looks down at it then back to Shawn.
“You forgot my coke.” David said.
“I wasn’t done yet. You’ll get it when I’m done.” Shawn said.
Shawn straightens his tie and clears his throat. Sitting up, staring into David’s eyes. There’s nothing but emptiness there, a black hole where a soul should be.
“Your lawyer is on his way, but I wanted to show you something and it couldn’t wait.” Shawn said.
Shawn pressed play and spun the laptop around. David leaned in and then went wide eyed. The video showed David struggling with Angela until she broke free. Immediately David pulled a knife and stabbed her in the back. Angela fell backward onto the ground where David got onto her and stabbed repeatedly. The video stopped and the two men sat there uncomfortably.
Shawn closed the laptop as he stood, “You are officially being charged for the murder of Angela Bonnet.” Shawn stated.
David sat there silent for a moment, fidgeting with his hands. Many times he went to open his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, David uttered, “She was nice to me…until she wasn’t.”
“Where’s the knife you used?” Murphy asked.
Staring straight at Murphy, “I threw it in the lake…may I have my coke now?” David said.
“Yeah, you can have that coke,” Murphy said.
Two patrol officers walked into the space and went around to David and stood him up. Then David was escorted out. Murphy stared at the empty chair. He wondered how many times he’d heard some version of the same line—she was nice to me—and why it never stopped bothering him. Murphy stood and turned toward the door before the feeling could settle.
The mood in the observation room was gloomy. Hands were shaken but there weren’t any smiles. A young woman was taken from this world. Shawn sat at the wooden desk while Manners got up, his mood lighter than it was before. The coffee still sat on the desk, surprisingly still warm. Shawn grabbed it. The styrofoam felt good in his hand. The warm air from his mouth brushed over the coffee, cooling it. With a smile, Shawn took a sip.
Lewis Purcell is a veteran, actor, and stuntman whose love of storytelling has evolved to the written word. His fascination of writing came from reading Star Trek and Halo novels in high school. His writing interests focus on thrillers and sci-fi, but he does love offbeat comedy. What was a hobby has now become a profession of his. Whenever he isn’t in the gym or on set, he’s home in Tennessee putting words on a blank screen.
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