It's Like A Scene From 1920s

By deeasherself

- Ma'am? - The policeman said. - Ma'am?

She didn't reply. He looked at his partner and nodded. The other policeman left the room.

- Ma'am, we need to ask you some questions. - He said, placing one hand over hers across the table. She reacted, blinking several times, clearing her throat quietly and moving in the chair.

- Yes? - She said, fixing her dress. - How can I help you, sir?

- Ma'am - He started again, but he was interrupted. The other policeman entered the room with a glass of water, and put it in front of her before closing the door.

- Thank you, sir.

- Ma'am, we need to know what happened--
- Where?
- In your house. If you would be so kind--
- When?
- Just last night, ma'am. We're investigating a murder case--
- Dear Lord! Who died?

The policeman remained silent for a while.

- Your husband. - He said, finally.

She looked at him. She'd picked up the glass of water but put it back in its place. She stared down at her dress and began to cry.

The policeman looked at his partner, who took a white handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her, politely. She took it.

- Thank you, sir. - She repeated, whispering. She stopped crying, drying her tears on the handkerchief, staining it with her make up. - Who would do such a horrible thing? - She said, sobbing.

- That's what we're trying to figure out.

The policeman opened a folder and moved around some pages. He took three pictures and put them in front of her.

- Dear Lord... - She said. - When did this happen?!
- You don't remember?
- What do I not remember?!

The policeman sighed.

- Ma'am, last night around 3:48am, your husband was shot with his own gun, and you were the only person with him in your house.
- You're accusing me of killing my husband in my house?! That's -- that's... simply outrageous! How dare you!
- So you didn't do it?
- Of course not! I love my husband! And if I were to kill anyone, I would kill the person who did this horrible things to him--
- Ma'am, your hands and dress are stained with blood.

She looked at her hands.

- I made chicken for dinner - She said, patiently.
- Look, I don't mean to sound rude, but this would be easier if you just confessed that you... killed your husband.
- Why would I? that's a lie, and I can't tell lies. I don't like it.

The policeman sighed again, loudly.

- Ma'am - His voice changed to a more mechanical tone. He wasn't patient and nice anymore. - We know you did it, so you're gonna be put in jail until you get a trial, and you can say all this to the judge. - He smiled pathetically and nodded to his partner, who got up and put a hand on the lady's shoulder.
- That is an unnecessary waste of time, sir. - Her voice changed too, she was shouting. - I did not kill my husband and I do not have to -- get your hands off me! This is completely ridiculous!

The other policeman grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the room carefully while she kept shouting.

- I want a lawyer! If whoever killed my husband is still going around killing husbands and you're accusing innocent wives-- I'm sure that person is still out there! He belongs in jail! Not me! I didn't do it! I want a lawyer...

Her voice was lost behind the door.

The policeman got up. He took the pictures and looked at them one by one before putting them back in the folder. He rearranged his clothes and whistled a song on his way out of the room.

He didn't turn off the light.

It's Like A Scene From 1920s

Created: Jul 30, 2010


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