Outburst

Chapter 14 - The Beans Are Spilled

By the time Grant got to the room with an officer—the mustache one, from Margot's crime scene—the conversation was done. Roman glanced away. Getting punched by Grant didn't make him afraid. In fact, even though he looked really pissed, he acted like it was nothing, like he'd gotten a worse thing than that. He made his way out of the room, walked past Grant without even saying anything anymore. The police officer named Flint also left the room, following Roman.

Another officer came in. My eyes blinked when I saw that brown-haired man. He was wearing black shirt with dark grey suit and brown tie. Quite unmatchable but it might have been his style because he also wore the same kind of outfit yesterday. He was one of the detectives who interviewed me after we reported about Phil Easton. The interview was short, but Grant was absolutely right—he was asking about my uncle more than about Phil Easton.

"Mr. Luke Mercer? I'm Detective Edward Banks," he introduced himself while lending his hand to shake Uncle Luke's. He then glanced at me and Grant. "Miss Mercer, Mr. Olivier."

Uncle Luke had furrowed brows as Detective Banks nodded to each of us. The detective seemed to notice the little reaction and went on a brief explanation.

"My partner and I went to your house yesterday after Mr. Easton's body was found, but they said you were in a conference," he said.

"I was," replied Uncle Luke shortly.

"We've been trying to reach you since. Now that you are here, we want to ask some questions about the murder of Miss Dean and Mr. Easton."

Uncle Luke didn't seem pleased. "I actually came here to bail my assistant out and picked up my niece, nothing more."

"I understand that, Sir. But... regarding the situation where the victims were found and their relationships to you... We have to take your statements," said Detective Banks.

"How many more times should I do that?" Uncle Luke folded his hands. If I could, I would warn this detective to stop. If Uncle Luke already showed that kind of gesture, he would be forever pissed off of that person.

Detective Banks looked confused. "Excuse me, but you never did that. We requested the first interview two days ago to Mr. Olivier, but you never showed up."

Oh, that little conversation I accidentally heard when I got home? Well, it was accidentally at first, but then I decided to stay a bit longer before they realized I had been listening.

"It was because your FBI friend already did that twice, so I thought I didn't have to do that for the third time," he replied.

The detective's eyebrows clung onto each other. "You mean Agent Roman?" He asked. "No, no. He's only here because he filed a report about an assault that Mr. Olivier did. We couldn't possibly ask for FBI's assistance for this type of case."

What a way to silence the room. It was too quiet that Detective Banks might start to think that he had said something wrong. If I could repeat what he just stated with my own words—Roman was never in the case.

"I think I know what's happening here," Detective Banks broke the silence. He found out what went wrong just by reading our reactions. "Could you excuse me for a second?"

Uncle Luke nodded, and Detective Banks got out of the room. I knew Uncle Luke's silence was terrifying, especially when he knew that the man he once had a feud with had his hands involved in these cases, unofficially.

I felt my stomach twisted as I remembered how obsessive that man was to uncover the truth behind these murders—by being so excruciatingly annoying towards anyone related to my uncle.