Accomplices and Midnight Calls
731 Words
"They searched my house? Under whose authority?" John asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I am the one asking the questions here, Nishpor, and you still haven't answered me," Prosecutor Nilow replied sternly.
"That is part of my savings. Taking a photo of my open safe, with my money in it, is a complete lack of respect for someone else's property. I hope every single cent is still there."
Nilow let out an ironic laugh. "It has been seized. And let me tell you, it will be very difficult for you to get it back. In fact, it might never happen; it will most likely go to the State."
"Great. I finally feel like I'm paying my taxes efficiently. Seems like a fair deal," John replied with absolute calm, tapping his fingers on the wooden table. "And when can I leave?"
Prosecutor Nilow stared at him, utterly perplexed by his composure. "Not for now. We are done for today, but perhaps we will find ourselves right back here tomorrow."
"How boring. Falling into your hands is like falling into a bottomless pit," John said, standing up from his chair with effortless elegance.
"You would already be home if you had cooperated. For now, enjoy your stay in this five-star hotel."
"Take me back to my cell," John told the guard who had just opened the door.
The officer nodded and guided him down the hallway. Meanwhile, Prosecutor Nilow gathered the documents from the table. Noticing one was missing, he smiled to himself in frustration. He left the interrogation room and headed to the station's cafeteria. He bought a sandwich and a bottle of water, then sat alone to eat.
Shortly after, Officer Luke walked up to his table.
"May I sit, Prosecutor?"
Nilow nodded, chewing his food.
"Did you manage to get John to talk?" Luke asked in a low voice.
"No, but he will. I'll tell you one thing, though: that guy is out of his mind. I think he ended up in the wrong place; he belongs in a psychiatric ward."
Officer Luke looked down at the table, hiding his expression. "I see. The case seems quite complex."
"I'll call a psychiatrist if he keeps refusing to talk, or at least find him a public defender to speak on his behalf," the prosecutor added, finishing his sandwich. He took a long sip of water, stood up, and looked at the officer. "Keep your distance from him, Luke. I'd hate for you to end up just as crazy."
"Understood, Prosecutor Nilow."
Luke remained seated, waiting for the prosecutor to leave, throw his trash in the bin, and walk out the door. As soon as he was sure he was alone, Luke went to the cafeteria counter and ordered a specific sandwich: whole-wheat bread with turkey breast. He also ordered a fresh strawberry juice. He paid, took the order, and walked quickly toward the holding cells.
Reaching the iron bars, he smiled.
"John, dinner is served."
John, who was lying down with his back to him, answered without turning:
"I was waiting for you, Luke. I hope it’s diet-friendly," he said, slowly sitting up.
"Oh, of course it is," Luke replied with a knowing grin, passing the food through the bars.
"Turkey?" John asked, checking the wrapping.
"Well, you are on a diet, aren't you?" Luke teased, and both men let out a quiet chuckle.
"Alright, I'm heading out. Enjoy, John," the officer said, turning around.
"Thanks, man," John called out. Luke simply raised a hand in farewell and continued down the corridor.
Meanwhile, late into the night, Prosecutor Nilow was driving back home when his phone began to ring. He connected his hands-free system and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Prosecutor. Happy?" a mysterious female voice asked from the other end.
"You handed me a lunatic. Instead of happy, I feel completely stressed out."
"I can help you with that..." the woman suggested, her tone soft and alluring.
"Where are you?" Nilow demanded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
"You know exactly where to find me," she replied seductively, right before the line went dead.
The prosecutor stared at the phone screen for a second, intrigued, and hit the gas.
- Writer
