How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Luke

Sitting in the small office, Luke felt cross with himself that he had lost his temper. After cleaning up the mess of broken glass and splintered wood, Luke wondered if he should go for run. It might clear his head. Give him some perspective. He could not keep doing this. Jessica was dead. She had lied to him, but she was dead. He could do nothing to confront her and tell her how much she hurt him. He would have to live with that. These feelings would haunt him for a long time; Luke knew that, and knew he had to sort it out. A run. It would help.

He peered through the window and the deary scene outside. Although it was in the middle of the day, the autumn sky had darkened, giving the appearance that night-time was approaching. A sharp wind was whipping leaves along the ground and a damp chill filled the air. Luke scanned up and down the street. The traffic was light and allowed him to notice the bare trees that lined the road. Most were bare, having lost their brown and yellow leaves. Winter was coming. Then it would be colder and wetter. The English weather. Rarely any sun, always grey and wet. No wonder the brits liked to talk about the weather, it was always changeable. You could have a perfect sunny day, and then it was followed by bitter winds and rain. The current weather did not inspire him to venture outside. It looked horrible, and the nice warm house was inviting, and Luke preferred the thought of sitting down with a coffee and watching T.V. Yet, he had to clear his mind. He could not stop thinking about Jessica.

There was suddenly a sharp knock on the front door. Who could that be? Luke frowned. Someone to check up on him. Louise, Jessica's sister. His parents. Her parents. A neighbour.
He opened the door and stepped back in surprise.
'Mr Hill?' asked a man dressed in a sharp suit, neatly pressed shirt, and wearing a black and blue stripy tie.
Luke nodded, surprised by what he saw. Next to the impeccably dressed man, stood a uniformed officer. Black jacket, with a blue chequered strip running across the chest, and the words police surrounded in a blue box above the strip. The officer was wearing a black hat, with the classic white chequered band running around the base. In the centre of the pattern was the police badge. Metropolitan Police.
'I'm detective Cortado and this is officer Hook, may we come in?'
Luke was momentarily stunned, but quickly regained his composure.
'What's this about?' he asked casually, although he could feel his heartbeat accelerating.
'It would be better if we could come inside. We have a few questions.'
Luke stepped backed and waved the two men inside. He could refuse to let them in, but what good would that do. Did they have questions about Jessica?
'Please sit,' said Luke gesturing toward the sofa in the living room. 'Excuse the mess.'
The living room was a mess. The sofa was covered in bedding. Old bowls and cups rested on tables and the room smelled stale and dirty.
The young officer gingerly removed the bedding and perched on the edge of the sofa.
'Sleeping rough?' he asked.
'Sorry about that. Having trouble sleeping in the bed, since...' He paused, trying to collect his thoughts.
'We understand,' said the detective. 'We are sorry for your loss.'
Luke nodded. 'What's this about? Is it about Jessica?'
There was a brief pause. The detective pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket and scanned the page. He then looked up at Luke.
'Do you know Mr Hamlet. Alan Hamlet?'
Luke tried to hide his surprise. Alan. Why would they be interested in that. He nodded calmly and tried to smile.
'Yeah! Sure. He is the headmaster of the school; you know, where Jessica worked.'
The detective put the pad down on his lap. 'Let me get straight to the point, Mr Hill.'
'Luke. It's just Luke.'
'Sure. Why did you visit Mr Hamlet at the school a few days ago?'
Had something happened to Alan? Why would the police be interested in his visit to the school.
'No reason. I had some questions for him. About Jessica.'
'Of course. Then why did you push him out of his office?' continued the detective.
'I. I'm not sure what you mean,' lied Luke.
'We have a witness who saw you pushing and threating Mr Hamlet.'
'Really. Why is this important?' asked Luke, trying to hide his surprise.
'Because Mr. Hill. Luke. Alan Hamlet is dead.'
This time Luke was genuinely surprised. He could no longer hide it and let out a gasp.
'What! How?'
'He fell down the stairs when he was leaving the school. But we think he was pushed.'
'And you think it was me?'
'No one is saying that. We just wanted to know your whereabouts. Three days ago, around 6.30pm.'
'I think. I think I was here. At home. I haven't left the house much, since... well. Since Jessica died.' Luke buried his hands in his face, feeling embarrassed by this.
'It's ok. No need to apologise. But you see my problem. You were seen pushing Mr Hamlet around and then he ends up dead after falling down the stairs. You see the problem?'
Luke did not know how to response. He did she the problem. He had threatened Alan, and then he turns up dead.
'I do,' Luke finally said. 'But I was here, at home, trying to cope with my grief. I would never kill anyone.'
The young officer spoke to the first time during this interrogation. 'Can I ask why you confronted Mr Hamlet?'
Luke was flustered. He felt like a fool and knew he would have to reveal his awkward story.
'The truth is, I found out Alan was sleeping with my wife. While we were married!'
'How did that make you feel?' asked the detective, unmoved my the story.
'I was shocked. Anyone would.' Before Luke could continue, the officer jumped in.
'And you went to the school to teach him a lesson. You were angry. That's understandable.'
Luke could see what was happening. They were trying to trick him. Get him to say he wanted to kill Alan. He did. When he found out the truth, he wanted him dead. But he did not kill him, and he would not allow the police to trick him.
'No! I did not kill him. I went to the school to ask him why. He became defensive. I lost my temper and pushed him out of his office.'
'Did you then push him down the stairs?'
Luke's blood was boiling. Having to recount this story made him feel angry again. He took a deep breath, desperate to hide his feelings from the police. If they saw he became easily angry, they would arrest him.
'No,' Luke said calmly. 'That is not what happened. After that unfortunate incident, I left and never saw Alan again.'
'So you didn't kill him.'
'No! I did not,' said Luke, anxiously trying to stay calm.
'Luke,' said the detective. 'We believe you. Just tell us where you were when he was killed.'
'I told you. I was at home. Sleeping. Crying. I lost my wife. What else would I be doing.'
'Please Luke. We understand. But you also understand the problem we have. You had the motive. You were seen pushing him around. What would you have us do?'
'Leave me alone. That's what I'd do.'
'And we will,' said the officer. 'As soon as we are satisfied. And we are not satisfied.'
'What else do you want me to say? I was at home and I never saw Alan again after that day.'
'Ok. Ok. I think that will do for now,' said the detective. 'If we have any questions, we know where to find you, don't we?'
Luke nodded and sighed. His heart was pounding, and he felt like he would be sick again. He had to stay calm. He could not give the officers any reason to suspect him. Luke did not kill Alan and they had to believe him.
'Thank you for your time,' said the detective, shaking Luke's hand. 'We'll be in touch.'

Things were getting worse. Luke collapsed on the chair and stared at the ceiling. The police. The police suspected him of Alan's death. He had been stupid to confront Alan, but to kill him. Never. How was this possible? He grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey and drank its contents. Luke did not know what to do. He had lost his wife and now he felt his life crumbling around him.

You can imagine my anger. The police suspected Luke. I had been careful. Waited a few days before killing the slimly man. Poor Luke. He has been through enjoy without having to cope with this. If only I could get rid of those two officers. I couldn't. It would make matters worse. I could only hope it went away.