The Tribute Drummer

Interrogation

FBI Rogers walked around the small room, casting disparaging looks and comments at me, trying to crack me, putting me under the microscope of intense, unwavering pressure. I felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of my face and swiped my brow from which it came. 

He looked over his biggish file again; and I must admit, I felt pretty proud that the FBI actually knew who I was.

Awesome stuff! 

Rogers leaned on the table hovering over me trying to make me tremble, I pulled my shirt up to cover my cleavage, all A cup size of it. 

He sat back down in the chair opposite. He was taking a heap of time checking his files, leaning back on the chair, tapping his pen. I just felt kinda bored actually. I picked up my drumstick and scratched my back and the side of my arm. 

Standing, I walked past him to grab yet another carrot. Then began banging on the door to tell Paul to stop being a miser and switch the air-conditioning on. I heard Abe laughing somewhere in the hall, gee he was a jolly bugger.

"Miss Laboriel, I need you to sit down and behave. We have important questions to ask you" Rogers was a hard nosed hound, well that's what he wanted me to think. I was actually thinking more a sausage dog, you know, like a dachshund. "This is a matter of the highest importance" 

"I don't think so, it's only John"

"MISS!"

"Gee why don't you get the other guy in if you can't handle the answers"

"Laboriel, Catlyn no i. Born inter-racial" I stood and rounded on him, how dare he point out stuff like that- so rude "Your mother was English – correct and Father, Mexican" He glanced at me and I sat down "Born Norwich, England, age at present 35- divorced- no children " He looked for confirmation, raising an eyebrow when I didn't answer.

"Thanks for reminding me" Bloody hell thirty five... unmarried, I'm a big loser. Will I ever have a kid? Do I want one? They are nice 'an all but me, a mum? Need a fella for that job anyways. I could just pick a trib I suppose, nah the poor kid would be really confused an-

"Right; When you have finished thinking over and analysing your personal lack of commitments, and life ambitions.." He smiled nastily at my sad life. I stood up super quick, the chair flicking over, banging on the floor. My sticks dropping to the table. A knock on the glass halted both Rogers and me from killing each other.

"That was inappropriate of me" He was being very insincere and looked down his nose at me. I picked up the chair and banged it down "I need to go over these arrest warrants and trial notes"

"Most of that was in England or Hamburg-er, that's inadmissible"

Yes!! One up on the sausage man dog.

"This isn't court missy. We can go worldwide on this stuff"

"You don't have Madrid in there, do you??!?" I was starting to sweat again this was getting way too heavy.

"Why!? I don't think so. Why!?" Rogers glanced at the file again.

"Oh nothing. Nothing...." Oh I'm glad Madrid was lost to him.

He flicked through page after page again, then tapped on the window.

I have a really big mouth!

He was back around the table leaning over me. Ugh, was that tuna breath? 

"Ok a Mr Charles Watts, Surrey, England lodged a complaint – assault and battery. Michael Jagger was a non-compliant witness and a Mr K. Richards would not, sorry, could not, testify" I began to laugh uproariously and he glared, dog like, across the table at me. I shut up. "so....."