Diane Rucho.

26

"Coffee? Soda?"

"Just water."

Michael confirmed, "Anything else?"

The wall clock ticked. It was 7:30 P.M.

Preston observed as Big Ted squirmed in his chair. The man's filthy, long nails were poking holes in the fabric of his grey shirt. He wasn't wearing a cap today. Thinning black hair. Unkempt. Rough. His sharp jawline was glistening with visible sweat, and his Adam's apple seemed to protrude more from his tall neck. They were all seated in the interview room at the police station, with a black chipped metallic table in the middle. Big Ted was sitting opposite them.

"I'll have soda instead, maybe some buns. Not too much trouble, is it?" Big Ted tugged at his shirt collar, unbuttoning the first two buttons.

"Sure, not a problem. I'll find them for you down the hallway, but first, we want to know why you lied to us?"

The temperature in the interrogation room had been set to almost 90 degrees Fahrenheit, enough to cause heat cramps and exhaustion. This was one of the many tactics used in interrogations to disarm a suspect and make them uncomfortable. Both Preston and Michael had grown accustomed to the high temperature.

"It wasn't my mistake. You were asking the wrong question," came Big Ted's quick response. Preston caught the central accent and imagined him to be from Muranga County.

"What was the right question?" Michael asked.

Big Ted looked around the room and said, "Is it too hot? Or is it just me?"

After discovering that Big Ted was the same person they had spoken to at the Auto Shop Outlet, they didn't immediately arrest him. Instead, they went back to the station to make some calls, consult with Inspector Fredrick Nyanchama, and issue both a search warrant and an arrest warrant. The search warrant wasn't just for the shop, but also for Big Ted's house at Pipeline, North of Kware.

By the time they finished the paperwork, a few officers had already been dispatched to his house. At around 6 PM, Preston and Michael arrived at the shop.

"What was the right question?" Michael repeated.

"You should have asked if I knew Diane Rucho," Big Ted said.

"But we didn't," replied Preston.

"Typical," Big Ted responded. "Not seeing what's right in front of you."

Preston asked, "Was this the case with Diane?"

There was silence, a few fidgets, then a click of the tongue.

"I had nothing to do with her murder."

"Then why did you lie to us?" asked Preston.

"You think I don't know what usually happens? The boyfriend or husband is always blamed for the murder. You all overlook many things. I knew the police would come to me eventually."

"So you were prepared?" Preston questioned.

"I didn't say that."

"Sounded like you were prepared."

Another click of the tongue. Fisted hands. Red eyes. "I had nothing to do with her murder."

Preston leaned forward and asked, "How was your relationship with Diane?"

"It was great," Big Ted replied.

"Just great?" Preston probed.

"We had our good moments and enjoyed each other's company. She loved me despite my addiction."