At The Heart Of Every Interrogation

Flash Fiction by Matthew Mota

After I killed the engine, the smell of burning oil drifted away. The odor was distracting from the beautiful dark blue night sky. However, work always interfered with enjoying the good things in life.

A string of robberies were occurring in the city. All the culprits had one thing in common: a prior connection to Joseph Hack. My newbie partner and I had been trailing him all night to gather intel. Now that he had arrived back at his apartment, it was time to confront him.

Joseph waddled to the front door of his apartment building. He pulled a rag from his tightly-fitted suit to wipe his bald head. Despite looking like a mountain with legs, he was the invisible hand behind most of this city’s crime.

“Alright, we need to squeeze as much information from him as possible,” I instructed. “We need to play this smart. You got that David?”

I turned to look at my partner and saw that he was already leaving the car to get to Joseph. Unfortunately, this was a common occurrence, as common as David leaving his gun in the car. I ran out to catch up to the interrogation, which had started without me.

“We’ve got questions,” David yelled. “So you better listen good because we ain’t playing around.”

Hack looked at the two of us and started to laugh. I could only imagine how much his stomach jiggled under his shirt.

“Well, if it isn’t Thaddeus and a sidekick,” he responded. “I’m feeling cocky tonight. Ask away.”

David’s veins popped out, and his teeth were grinding. I jumped in to give him a chance to cool down.

“The streets have been more dangerous as of late,” I began. “We need to know what’s going on.  And we figured you should be on top of these things.” 

I avoided mentioning the robberies or his involvement right off the bat. He was too experienced to confess outright. 

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t worried,” Joseph responded. “I just talked to the boys and they ain’t heard nothing about it either.”

“You met with your goons so you all can plan more robberies?” David interjected.

“What you lack in strategy, you make up for in confidence,” I muttered.

“What the hell is this?” Joseph retorted.

I began to rub my temples as the two of them shouted at each other

“I don’t know what shit you’re trying to imply, but I’m leaving,” Joseph barked at us.

“You need to listen to me,” I scolded David. I then turned to Joseph. “Look, it’s not-”

“What the hell Thad?!?” David snapped back. “He’s about to crack!”

Hack stood there with his nostrils flaring.

“I doubt that, David,” I replied.

 “Just trust me! Didn’t you also learn about the Reid technique?”

“At this point, I’m surprised that you can read.”

“Just let me deal with this big jabroni.”

Joseph sucked in his stomach and stared him dead in the eye. “Big talk coming from a kid. I was the king of these streets before you could talk. But it looks like no one ever taught ya anyways.”

“I know damn well you didn’t just call me kid,” David muttered. He then grabbed Joseph by the collar of his shirt and started yelling. “I said before, you better listen good-”

I was about to slap David for this nonsense, but Joseph beat me to it. The slap surprised David, and he lost his balance and fell into me. David patted his belt trying to find his gun holster. “Where the hell is it?”

I tried restraining David, but Joseph realized what was happening and jogged into the nearby alley.

“Get off me,” David snapped. “We’re ending this tonight.”

I thought of all the ways that David would end up getting himself killed if I let go. I then wondered if I would even be upset if that happened at this point.

Lost in my thoughts, he slipped out of my grasp and ran off. I chased after.

It was a matter of seconds before we caught up with him. However, neither of us could have expected to see him like how we found him. He was on the ground, struggling to breathe, and holding his arm.

“Bad… heart…,” he managed to mutter out.

I tried my best to save him, but it was no use. David just stood there with a blank face.

The world faded away as I marched towards David.

“You killed more people than you saved tonight. You eliminated our best source of information. You better listen: this will never happen again, or I will make your life hell.”

I could tell from the look in David’s eyes that he learned a lesson that he will never forget: the value of silence in an interrogation.

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Bio: Matthew Mota (he/him) is a writer from Chicago, Illinois. He went to the University of Illinois for engineering but still makes time to write. Creating unique short stories and poetry are his ways of navigating the universal hardships of life. His work has appeared in TYPE! And 50-Word Stories.

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