Chapter Two

07:00 am. New Year's day.

The hours hared off without notice.

Inanimate sounds were her only company inside the four walls. The occasional keyboard clicks as she typed on the worn keys of the laptop. The pop and creak of the archaic heater; that she concluded was either from the hot pipes expanding or the condensate in the radiator, grew into background noise.

There were no organic sounds in the room; other than for her mechanical breathing and her left foot tapping up and down under the desk, like a toddler on too much caffeine. That the gentle knock on the door turned out disruptive to the rhythm.

The pace of her fingers typing on the keyboard slowed down before coming to a stop.

A whispered 'Jay' followed the knock.

Loxley looked at the window to her right. The shy winter sun casted a greyish-yellow light over the horizon and into the room and the window was sweating with condensation. She noticed a few cars scuttled down the road below.

The light was never direct in her office since the room faced North; it was peaceful but made her ignorant to the passage of time.

Loxley inhaled a deep breath before closing the laptop and placing her enclosed hands onto the desk, calling out, "Come in, Blaine."

Ebony entered the doorway, looking fresh and besuited, his lips carrying a boyish smile and in his hands two disposable paper cups. "Tea?" He asked, raising one of the cups and offering it to Loxley. He pulled the chair opposite to hers, its legs squealed against the polished concrete floor, and sat down. His legs outstretched and ankles crossed.

"I'd texted you a few times on my way over," Ebony stated, and Loxley's eyes beelined to the cell phone on the desk beside her. It was still on silent mode. Ignored. "Let me guess you didn't even get a wink of sleep? Been working all night, I imagine."

Loxley gave a dismissive wave of her hand and took a sip of the tea. She let the sweet beige liquid soothe her, before lifting the cup in Ebony's direction in appreciation.

"The autopsy report should be completed by the end of afternoon, I presume?" Loxley set the cup on the edge of the desk; her gaze steady on her friend.

"Give or take." He said, taking a sip from his own cup; that she intuited was coffee from the acrid, nutty smell. Ebony only drinks coffee in the morning.

"I tried to trace the gun's whereabouts..." Ebony apprised, his tone querulous and his forehead puckered. "But it was futile attempt." He twiddled with the titanium band on his right-handed ring finger with his thumb; a normal habit of his when he was in deep thought.

"The gun isn't registered, and the serial number is fake," he resumed. "The whole thing's grinded down and polished new. It's most likely a stolen property from a factory or a store and modified." Ebony tossed his head back, grimace breaking out on his lips as he paused to bring the cup up to his mouth for another gulp of bitterness.

"And oh, there were no fingerprints on the gun either." When he finished, his eyes met Loxley's and he said stilly, "In conclusion, Officer Walker was right. Something doesn't feel right, Jay."

"It's a murder, Blaine," Loxley emphasized 'murder', like the word possessed a hidden meaning. "It shouldn't feel right." She mumbled the words, then swivelled the chair and rose to her feet.

Her body was cramped and stiff from the hours of sitting, moving nothing but her fingers. Loxley stretched her back, rolled her shoulders, then finally circled her neck. An inaudible sigh left her lips as she felt the luxury of her tense muscles relaxing.

"You know, that's not what I meant." Ebony rolled his eyes in a little exasperated and slightly playful manner.

"There is always more paths than clues, Blaine." Loxley ambled towards the small hand-wash sink at the corner of the room. "As foggy as things may be at the moment, the haziness won't last long."

Loxley turned on the tap. The water gravitated down to her extended palms in a twisted silver ribbon and fell through her fingers. She gathered it in her cupped hands and splashed the cold water onto her face. She felt better.

Blinking the water away from her eyes, Loxley looked at herself in the mirror. Her hazel eyes gazed dully at her. She washed her face once more, then rinsed her mouth and scrubbed her hands with the honeysuckle hand wash.

"I assume, we have the three individuals here for interrogation?" Loxley queried, as she brushed the water droplet from her white dress shirt. She padded over to the tissue box on her desk and pulled out a clump of tissues.

"They're here. Officer Walker's force is keeping them company."

Loxley's eyes scrutinized him to gauge his thoughts, as she patted dry her face and hands.

"Hey, don't give me that look," Ebony sat up straight, his dark-brown eyes levelled on her, "The policemen are here for keeping track of things. And to help us if needed. We agreed to this."

"I know," Loxley mumbled, tossing the paper towels into the dust bin beside the desk.

She unfastened the hair tie in a swift motion and regathered her short brunette locks to form a low ponytail. Some stubborn loose strands fell over her forehead, and she tucked them behind her ears.

Loxley seized her wet-sand-coloured plaid jacket that was draped over the back of her working chair along with her prussian-blue winter coat. She slipped the suit jacket on and abandoned the winter coat on the chair.

"Alright, let's get to work," Loxley said, as she straightened the jacket with a firm tug. She snatched her paper cup of half-empty tea and walked out the door.

Ebony followed hard on her heels, tossing his empty coffee cup into the dust bin and closing the door behind.

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07:40 am. New Year's day.

Loxley tugged the door handle and stepped into the interrogation room.

The room was medium-sized and penny plain, with three snow-white walls and a large one-way mirror taking up most of the fourth wall adjacent to the entrance door. The mirror was Ebony's idea; as he called it for 'intimidation factors'.

There was a wall clock to her right, a video camera for recording while the interview was on, and a white wooden table with three straight back chairs positioned in the middle of the room.

The fluorescent lighting feigned the room all the more agitating. The only pop of color was a parlor palm in a vase in the corner.

The click of the door as Ebony closed it, alerted the person sitting at the table — apparently the man hadn't heard the door open.

Loxley's benign footsteps seemed to echo in the intense atmosphere. She stood before the table, her eyes stationary on the man.

The man before Loxley had his shoulders hunched together as if he was attempting to disappear into himself. He wore a garnet button-down shirt, leaving the collar flapping around — like he had thrown it on without care. The shirt was off by one button but he masked it by leaving the first two buttons unfastened and with a knitted vest sweater. He had dark-brown wide eyes that made him look innocent by nature, an unruly mop of black curls and long stubble, and a wheat-ish complexion. Loxley hazarded a guess that the man must be South Asian from his features.

"Good morning," Loxley rendered a polite smile. The man attempted a smile in return, but his face was too taut to commit a genuine one, and murmured a feeble 'good morning, Detective'. "I'm Jamie Loxley and I believe you've already met my partner, Blaine Ebony." She glanced back at her friend.

The man gave a brief nod of affirmation.

"What's your name again?" Loxley asked. She drew up a chair and sat across from him, not once breaking her eye contact.

"Kanwaljit," the man croaked. He cleared his throat and spoke again in a more emphatic and confident voice, "Kanwaljit Patel."

An Indian — Loxley concluded.

"We just want to have a simple conversation, Kanwaljit." Loxley rested her hands on the table and leaned forward in her seat, in an informal way.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea or Coffee?" She offered; an astute tactic to alleviate the tense atmosphere. Clearly, this was all a foreign experience for Kanwaljit.

"Paani— I mean, some water. Please?" Kanwaljit responded, as he shuffled in his chair.

"Sure." Ebony excused himself out the door to fetch a glass of water.

"Relax, Kanwaljit. We'll only be asking a couple of basic questions," Loxley said, her tone resolute yet benevolent. "Just be honest."

"Ji," Kanwaljit nodded his head. 

A faint smile materialised on her lips. Loxley noted how Kanwaljit's native language slipped out of uncontainable nervousness, no doubt without conscious awareness.

Right on cue, Ebony returned with a glass of water. He handed the glass to Kanwaljit, who took it from him and breathed a 'thank you'.

Kanwaljit drank a quarter of the water in one gulp and put the glass down in front of him. He then adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves that was rolled up just above his wrists.

Loxley noticed a gold wedding ring on his right ring finger as she sat patiently, allowing him a breath to get comfortable. She watched as he visibly relaxed before she spoke again. "Would you mind stating your full name for the camera?"

Ebony took his cue from Loxley and turned on the camera.

Kanwaljit looked up doe-eyed towards the handycam and pronounced his name.

"It's the formal procedure to question the people on the spot, and you're one of the three. I believe you were at the motel when Officer Walker arrived?" Loxley asked, and Kanwaljit replied 'yes'. "Are you able to tell us where you were last night?"

There was a slight crease on his glabella and a moment of pause. Like he was trying to digest the question. Loxley could physically observe Kanwaljit shuffling through his mind's filing cabinet to form a coherent sentence.

"I go out last night at sunset for walking," Kanwaljit said, stumbling over words and pausing to gather his thoughts. "I am sorry. My English is no good." He fidgeted a little and fixed the red thread on his wrist. A quivering smile on his lips.

"It's okay. Take your time." Ebony reassured, as he sat down in the chair beside Loxley. "What time were you back at the motel?" He leant back in the chair, his sturdy arms crossed over his chest.

"I come back to motel at..." Kanwaljit had a glazed look as he stared at the wood stains on the table like they offered him the answer, and spoke under his breath. "Paune baarah baje."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ebony inclined his head forward to hear the man better.

"Eleven forty." Kanwaljit made himself heard. His Indian accent flattered his voice and became more apparent as he continued speaking. "I come back buying food and grocery things from the store at about eleven forty p.m." He spoke slowly, accentuating each words.

"So you were not around during the time span when the victim was shot." Loxley interjected. Her eyes were pinned at the man. Her face neutral. "Do you recall seeing or hearing anything suspicious that day?"

Kanwaljit blinked, and his shoulders rose in a weak shrug. "No."

"Are you sure?" Ebony insisted, his usual deep and jovial baritone voice tainted with tender gravity. 

Kanwaljit gave a double nod, his already wide eyes got even more bulbous. "Pakka. Yes."

"Your room's right next to the crime scene, am I right?" Loxley asked, her tone feigning nonchalance, and her words collected. But, she was searching, waiting for a slip up.

Loxley noticed how the steadiness of her gaze hindered Kanwaljit to keep himself in countenance.

"Yes, madam." Kanwaljit said.

"What colour shirt were you wearing last night?" Loxley's outlandish question must have taken Kanwaljit aback as it took him a moment to react.

"Uh... kaunasa rang, I think... peela!" He mumbled under his breath, his brows furrowed in concentration. "It is yellow. Sure."

"Thank you, Kanwaljit." Loxley stood to her feet, and the chair legs scraped against the concrete floor. She then offered a steady hand for a handshake.

Kanwaljit bolted up from his chair and promptly accepted the pleasantry, managing a brief up-and-down movement.

His palm and fingers tingled cold on her blood-warm hand.

"If you won't mind waiting a little longer, we'll be right back," Loxley told him, while Ebony walked over to turn off the camera that was still recording. "You can be on your way soon enough." She reassured, sensing an underlying wave of apprehension on the man's face.

Ebony grabbed the door open for both of them. Loxley walked out first, and the door closed behind the detectives.

"You think he's lying." She spoke under her breath, and it wasn't a question. It was a statement. She turned back to face her friend. Her right eyebrow raised.

Ebony's lips arched downward and he briefly scratched his buzz cut head. "He shows definite signs of lying, or he's just a schlimazel and twitchy as hell."

Loxley and Ebony turned their heads toward the one-way mirror in tandem. On the other side of the mirror, Kanwaljit sat with his arms propped on the edge of the table by his elbow. His hands clasped in front of the mouth.

"The guy doesn't look like he could hurt a firefly," Ebony remarked. "In all fairness, he looks like the one who'd let the fireflies out of the jar. There has to be truth in his shaky statements, Jay." He voiced his thoughts and shifted his gaze back at her.

Loxley's eyes remained focused on the man. "The grand form of deception will always be camouflaged in front of our very eyes, Blaine."

Her hazel eyes finally turned up to greet Ebony's dark-brown gaze. "Besides, that's not what the girl stated."