Objects of Virtue

Chapter 09

"Of course, let me go tell him you are here. Please make yourself at home." Mrs. Malik replied as he turned and walked towards one of the two doors down the little, dark corridor. Harry turned his gaze towards the tiny living room. A worn out but well cared for sofa sat in the middle of the room, Tiny speckles of dark brown ran up the back of it, some faded and barely noticeable. A bucket of water and a brush stood in a corner, the contents a deep brown. It was obvious that Mrs. Malik had been trying her best to get the stains out of the furniture and walls. The pale blue walls were white in places – the results of aggressive bleach and elbow grease. What fascinated Harry the most were the number of canvases scattered across the room. Caricature images of people, slogans and bright splashes of color decorated the various sized canvases. There were little ones, there was even a canvas that stood behind the TV that was probably as tall as Harry. It was obvious that Zayn was passionate about his art.

"Hello, Detectives, I'm Zayn. I'm sorry, mum told me about what happened at the hospital, I was obviously out of it." A heavily accented but almost musical voice caused Harry to snap out of his silent admiration of the little master piece that had captured his attention. Placing it back on the little side table that he had picked it up from, Harry turned towards the direction that the voice was coming from. It was hard to mistake those features he had seen before on the little black and white photograph from his file. He was beautiful to say the least. Leaning heavily on his clutch, Zayn Malik stood at the entrance of his living room. He looked pale and dark circles looped around his striking brown eyes.

"Good morning Mr. Malik, its nice to finally meet you – well the sober you at least. Why don't you sit down mate, looks like that probably kills?" Niall said reaching out to help Zayn find a seat on the sofa. "My names. Niall. Niall Horan and this is Harry Styles. As you may already know we are looking into the death of your former employer Mr. Mark Tomlinson."

"Yes. Right. Of course. Orfff," Zayn replied as he sank in the sofa and adjusted him self. "How can I help you lads?"

"We've got a few questions, Mr. Malik. We can take it s slow as you need, alright?" Harry replied as he stationed himself directly in front of Zayn.

"Please, call me Zayn," kind eyes stared back at Harry. Harry was having a hard time believing that this man could in fact be his killer. Some how he doubted that Zayn would willingly or knowingly take part in something of this sort.

"Alright Zayn, so as you may know, our officers were trying to contact you before they arrived at your place and found you shot and on the floor. Since then we were able to identify the cause of death and it turns out that Mr. Tomlinson was poisoned, causing cardiac arrest." Niall informed Zayn as Harry continued to observe the fact that Zayn's complex furthered paled until he was almost as white as the curtains that hung on the sole window in the room.

"You lot think I did it then?" a scared whisper escaped Zayn's lips. "I – I would never – he was so good to me, I could never!" the panic was clear.

"Zayn, please try to calm down. That's why we're here, to try and figure this out," Harry said as he reached over and steadied Zayn's knee that was rocking too and fro frantically.

"Was there anything or anyone out of the ordinary that visited that day or the days prior?" Niall asked Zayn.

"No – I mean – the usual suppliers, employees, Mr. Cowell – the usual, well – this – this probably wasn't the most professional thing I've done – but – well – my girlfriend – Elizabeth visits me sometimes after the gallery closes." By now Zayn had sunk deep into the soft cushions of the sofa and was picking uncomfortably at a tiny hole on his grey t-shirt.