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The door finally swung open. Martin raised his head to see two men come into the room. The first was the one who had arrested him earlier in the day, Detective Ned Rothstein. Rothstein sported a wide body, too large for his small head. It made him look m "What did you do when you came back into the room?" Martin Brawley sat in the police interrogation room smoking a stale cigarette. He could hear footsteps shuffling around outside the door and wished they would come in and get it over with. He wasn't going to tell them anything anyway. He couldn't if he wanted to stay alive. The door finally swung open. Martin raised his head to see two men come into the room. The first was the one who had arrested him earlier in the day, Detective Ned Rothstein. Rothstein sported a wide body, too large for his small head. It made him look more than the twenty pounds overweight that he was. The second man wore an ill-fitting, brown suit with ashes from a cigarette dusting the jacket lapels. The man in the suit sat down, and Rothstein introduced him. "This is my partner, Detective Smalley. He's going to take over the questioning, and I'd advise you to start telling the truth. Smalls here can get real pissed." Smalley stared at Martin with bored eyes. It didn't seem to matter to him whether Martin talked or not. Rothstein hitched up his pants and left, slamming the door. "All right," Smalley said, as soon as the door shut, let's get this over with. I'm going to ask you some very simple questions, and you are going to answer them truthfully, and then I'll go home and you'll go to jail." "I told the other guy I don't know what happened." "I haven't asked a question yet. Now, tell me, did you kill your wife?" "No. I told the other guy that." "What did happen to her?" "I don't know." "You were in the house with her." "I didn't see what happened. I left the room and when I came back, she was in the chair, dead." "Was she sitting in the chair when you left the room?" |