Catcher Told Me I Was Rotten

>Two:

"We're not playing some sort of game here, August. If you want to be helpful I need details. You've already told us you don't have an alibi."

One thing that Liam could definitely say was that the boy didn't seem to be particularly troubled by the pictures of the young woman laid out in front of him. Once her hair had been pulled back from her face, she looked years younger; despite the bruise-like smudges of shadow over her eyes, the garish dash of lipstick streaked over pale skin. A necklace of purple poppies wormed their way around her neck; and Christ, he wished that they would have decided to close her lids before breaking out the camera, because her blank stare, complete with bright red, busted blood vessels was burrowing itself deep into his brain. On second thoughts, he'd probably be lucky if he could sleep that night.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and a younger DS, a woman that was called – what was it, Joan? Janet? Stuck her head around, with three flimsy Styrofoam cups of acrid coffee. The burnt-diesel smell was almost immediately evident in the room, and it turned Liam's stomach; he felt sick at the scent, but he also felt exhausted, and he knew which one was going to win the fight.

He accepted his cup with a grunt of thanks.

She set down the other two, then, on the steel topped table; the solicitor turned his nose up at the beverage, but his young suspect took the coffee with a gracious smile.

"Ah, fabulous. Thank you, darling."

You're not to flirt with my detectives, Liam wanted to bark, but that would cave in the guise of professionalism he'd worked so hard to maintain all throughout this interview. It was hours, and August had refused to co-operate in the slightest; he'd not offered up any other possible killers, or evidence to suggest that he hadn't himself carried out the crime. It was obvious, the contempt he had for Liam, how little respect was there for the badge on his chest. Jane gave her own stupid little grin in return, and lingered just a little bit longer than was necessary to let Liam know that the next student to be interrogated was waiting just outside with a police officer.

"And who would that be?"

"You should be well aware that I can't share details of anyone else possibly connected to the crime, August." Or rather, he wouldn't tell him exactly which one of his friends it was that was hovering just inches outside, in case it inspired him to say something that was a little less than true. Although Liam strongly doubted that this guy would take the fall for anyone, procedure was procedure. "Now, take a look at these pictures. Closely. See, these marks on her neck, they'd suggest death by strangulation. Not a nice way to go, but maybe... I don't know, maybe it was some sort of... game, gone wrong?" There'd been a similar case in Ireland, a few years ago – again, involving someone stupidly well connected, where no one had been certain whether or not it was accidental death by BDSM, or something more sinister. "I wouldn't know. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake."

"I didn't choke the poor thing when we were in bed together, if that's what you're trying to insinuate." He leaned forward, raking his unruly, dark hair back from his eyes to see better. "It would seem to me that you're looking for some sort of... cord. Half-inch thick?" Another little smile, and Liam wanted to smack him. "I'm more... hands on, shall we say."

"Yeah, we're looking for a cord." So it doesn't exactly bode well that you gave me a clear description of what we suspect to be the murder weapon. But the chap was finally starting to talk – Liam pressed forward, intent on sniffing out what else it was that he was hiding. "So, you say that the relationship yourself and the victim had was merely... physical."

"Mmm. That's usually how I do it. If you want someone to attest to that, perhaps you should talk to Charlie."

"Well, Mr. Haughton is no longer a person of interest in this case – his alibi is solid." He cleared his throat, and took a scorching sip of coffee, regretting it almost instantly. It was all he could do not to spit it out and start fanning his tongue like some stupid cartoon character. "You first came across the victim together, didn't you?"