His detective girlfriend

chapter three

Chapter three:

Mike kept his gaze on the face of a plump, bald man, who was identified as Mr. Eddie. Eddie sat at the other end of the table inside a secure interview room. A voice tape recorder was stationed at the side of the wall, with cameras in several spots.

Mr. Eddie is Mike's first prime suspect, and he had already asked Eddie a few questions concerning the robbery that took place at Mr. Andy's home.

Mr. Eddie's responses were quite logical and convincing, boldly declaring his innocence, and Mike seems not to have any ground to stuff his facts.

"Eddie, what makes you think I am buying into your logic? You were Andy's guests and, in fact, the only ones who ever knew about that sculpture."

"I guess I'm just a lucky man." He parted his lips to reveal his gold tooth.

"Look, Eddie, I am not playing around." Mike shook his head, his hands placed on the wooden, metallic table.

"Look, Mike or whatever you call yourself, I didn't steal it; you can spy on me and survey my home all you want, but trust me, you will find nothing," Eddie said, with a poker expression.

"You are a fan of Barcelona?" Mike thought it necessary to come up with the question after learning Andy and his friends were great fans of soccer and supported a team in Europe named Barcelona, where Lionel Messi played.

"What can I say, everyone is a fan of Barcelona?" Eddie grinned. Mike exhaled and wiped his sweaty forehead.

A few minutes later, another major suspect was seated next to Mike, with the same table separating the two of them. This time around, it was a blonde, middle-aged chap with a face cap.

Just like the previous suspect, Mr. Jefferson told Mike that it would take more than being a guest at an art gallery to be convicted, clearly stating he was not the culprit behind the robbery that took place at Andy's home.

"Mrs. Andy said you stayed longer than the other guests and even took a photo of yourself at the gallery."

"She did?" Jefferson asked surprisedly. "Yeah, I took a bunch of selfies; I also took one with Andy. But please tell me you are not pushing this through. Look, Andy is my friend; I will never steal from him."

Mike exhaled and glanced at the wrist watch on his left wrist. There was yet one more suspect on the list that he had to speak to; for now, he is done with Mr. Jefferson, though he was still tagged a prime suspect.

Sooner rather than later, a skinny, tall Mexican American gentleman with a stylish mustache was in the interview room with Mike.

Mr. Gonzalos, as he was called, was odd at answering any question Mike threw at him. His simple answers were yes or no, and he did not bother with explanations.

"Did you try to touch the sculpture?" Mike rolled up his sleeves to his arms, staring at Gonzalos.

"Yes." Gonzalos exhaled. "Look, I know you are only doing your job, but trust me, I didn't steal it. Besides, if you were there and you saw this sparkling Messi, I bet you would do the same."

"Really?" Mike asked at the last, as though Mr. Gonzalos was telling a lie about desiring to touch the sculptor.

"Look, I promise, it wasn't me." Gonzalos shook his head, and Mike shot him a long stare.

* * *

Mike came home late after spending extra hours at work. His darling wife, Lucy, stood in front of the door to welcome him, as usual.

"I was starting to worry. Come here, old boy." She grinned and spread her arms wide for an embrace.

"Who are you calling old?" He frowned and then grinned before burying himself in her embrace. He kissed her on the cheek and then stroked her belly.

"I think he is very much awake." Mike ruefully said, and Lucy rolled her eyes at him with a soft grin. Well, he was that sort of guy, a jester, and when he was not working, he loved to spend time with his wife and widen her smile with every chance he got.

He took her by the hand and led her into the house.

"So in your case, what have you?" Lucy asked curiously, changing the mood.

She knows Mike loves his unborn baby very much and that he can't wait to be a father, but she also knows he has to stay focused on his job.

"Nothing you should worry about, Lucy," Mike assured his wife and started to undo his uniform buttons, walking towards the bedroom.

"Mike," Lucy followed after him, wanting to hear more about his discoveries, or at least some fresh information to help with his investigation. She was aware of his meeting with some major suspects earlier today.

"Look, I think I could use some rest right now." He said this and sat on one side of the bed, losing his shoelace.

"Mike, I am your wife. I need to know what you are up to." She sat beside him and wrapped her arm across his shoulder.

He grinned at her and kissed her round belly, which pushed her dress back.

"Why don't we talk about him instead and stop worrying about a stolen sculpture?" He placed a hand on her belly and robbed it.

She stared at him for a while, and he shook his head at her.

"That look tells me you have cooked up a plan already; tell me about it." She inquired.

"Yea, about that. I think I need to speak with an old friend of mine." Mike stroked his cheek.

"Speaking with an old friend is the plan?" Lucy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Unless he is not just any old friend," Mike shot her a stare, and she squinted at him as though searching through him to solve the puzzle, and then she teared up with a grin.

"Anthony." She spoke the name softly.

"Anthony," Mike repeated the name, grinning.