No. 1 Suspect

Cold, neon lights bathe the room in a sick glow emitting a buzzing noise that would drive any fly on the wall mad. The interrogation room stunk of cigarette smoke and stale coffee. There were doughnut crumbs sprinkled carelessly on the stainless steel table. The only clean thing in the room was the not-so-subtle two-way mirror behind which stood Detective Matheson and his partner, Detective Poe.

The two had taken in the suspect a little over an hour ago. The case was a multiple homicide. The victims were a loving family with no known enemies. The number one suspect is also the only witness, the only survivor, and she’s barely 6 years old.

Poe breathed in the embers of his cigarette and attempted to calm himself as the fire scratched its way into its lungs. He exhaled a cloud of ash and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had on his best coat, his nicest tie, and his shirt was newly ironed. It turns out that before this latest arrest, Poe had been interviewed by the local news concerning a separate incident that he was overseeing. The little girl had chocolate hair, hazel eyes, and looked like she had yet to learn how to smile. Poe was thoroughly perplexed, but all the evidence pointed to this singular suspect.

Matheson loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He took a water bottle and wet his handkerchief. He touched the moist cloth to his face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a medal of Saint Michael the archangel, a gift from his mother. Quickly, he whispered a short prayer, begging God for forgiveness for arresting that little girl. He downed the entire paper cup full of black coffee, put the medal back in his pocket and took a chain and put it around his neck. On the end of the chain was his large, shimmering badge. With a quick nod to Poe, Matheson opened the door and walked into the interrogation room.

“I can save you the trouble officer,” the young girl said without even looking at Matheson, “I did it. You got the perpetrator in a single attempt. Congratulations.” She spoke beyond her years. Her voice did not quiver.

“And what exactly did you do?”

“I murdered my family. I slit my mother’s throat. It was quick and painless, and a shame about her. She was nice. But it had to be done.”

“It had to be done? Because she came into the house after working an extra shift.”

“You wouldn’t blame me for wanting to get rid of all traces back to me.” Even the two detectives could not hide the shock in their eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Isabel.”

“Hi, Isabel. I’m Detective Matheson. Do you want to tell me what happened that night?”

“I believe you already know the particulars. A thorough investigation would show that I lured my father to the stairs leading to the cellar… then I pushed him.”

“How would a little girl like you find the strength to push a grown man like your father down the cellar steps?”

“I shut the lights off. In that split second of confusion, I lunged my body into his gut. Then of course I tortured him for a few hours, which would explain the various wounds that coagulated at different rates on the corpse.”

“I’ll be right back,” Matheson got up and went back to the observation room. Poe was nodding his head.

“I think I’m going to need your help,” Matheson said to his partner. And the two entered the interrogation room. Isabel didn’t bother to turn around.

“Detective Poe, Detective Matheson, I’ll be frank with you. I know that you know about my father’s abusive nature. And I know you’re using that as motive, which you won’t need since I’m confessing to you that I did it all.”

“You know it all, don’t you?” Poe snidely remarked.

“You have no idea, Detective Poe, how much I know. I know that your partner over there prayed to his medal of Saint Michael just before he came in. He asked God for forgiveness, though I can assure you, Detective Matheson, you have done nothing wrong. Unfortunately, Mr. Matheson, that medal holds no power over me. You are protected by your faith. But not so much with that medal? It’s nothing more than a keepsake.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Poe asked, frightened.

“How in the world did you know about my medal?”

“I can sense these things. Especially, when these keepsakes have an image of my old foe. He fought me valiantly and was the victor. I will give him that.” Matheson’s jaw dropped, Poe’s eyes widened.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Matheson asked with incredulity in his voice. He took out the medal of Saint Michael and laid it on the table.

“Just offhand. He had shorter hair,” she looked at the image of the archangel on the medal and chuckled to herself. Isabel then sharply turned to Poe, “You have no idea do you?”

“It explains why you talk so much, even for a six-year-old,” Poe remarked, “So you’re trying to tell us that you’re the devil?”

“Precisely,” she replied, “but if we want to be completely honest with each other, I inhabited this corporal vessel a three minutes after the true murder.”

“After?” Poe asked.

“You found some blood in the living room did you not?” No answer.

“I suppose there’s no point in beating around the proverbial bush. My ‘father’ killed ‘me’ and was aiming to bury this body in the cellar. When his back was turned, I inhabited the corpse and waited until I was captured.”

“Why did you want to be captured?” Matheson inquired. Isabel looked at Poe as she responded.

“I said I know a great deal. People have had the wrong idea about me, officers. Yes, I’m a malicious creature, but I don’t commit acts of random evil. There’s a method to my madness. Everyone thinks I’m a bad guy. There is one irrefutable truth that both sides can agree on,” Isabel explained.

“Both sides?” Poe wondered. Isabel responded by mouthing the words “us” and “them” while pointing up and down, at heaven and hell, respectively.

“So what is this ‘irrefutable truth’ you’re talking about?” Matheson asked, genuinely curious.

“People can choose sides. People like you two can choose whether to act good or bad. Where I differ from your friend on that medal of yours, Detective Matheson, is how to deal with those who make the wrong decisions. He sides with his superior who emphasized compassion and forgiveness. But I know the truth: people who commit evil deeds respond only to punishment. And that’s where I come in.”

“But you still haven’t explained what you meant when you said that you were meant to be captured.”

“You’re a good man, Matheson. There’s no need for you to clutch onto that medal. I haven’t come here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Poe asked, sweating, sneaking to the door. The knob turned into molten steel as soon as Poe touched it. He screamed and Isabel casually stood up out of the chair as if the cuffs had never restrained her. She stood next to Poe who was writhing in pain on the floor. The young girl then turned to Matheson.

“You lead a good life, scuffles and struggles with your own morality aside, you are a good man. But how well do you know you’re partner?” The walls melted together and began to groan as if in pain. The lights flickered. “Detective Poe has been keeping a very nasty secret from you. We’ve met. You see it turns out that this girl, Isabel, has met your partner before.”

“I don’t understand,” Matheson said, clutching even tighter to his medal.

“Isabel was beaten by her father on a regular basis. She asked for help. Unfortunately for her, you were out sick that day. She was scared to use the phone. She was incapable of finding a ride to the station. So she wrote a letter to Poe. And what did you do, Mr. Poe?” Poe was still on the floor and was too scared to reply. “Well, Poe, it’s not nice to keep secrets from your partner.”

“I ignored it,” Poe breathed heavily, his heart raced. “I didn’t know what it was, I swear to God.”

“Oh, come now, Poe. You can tell a story better than that. You did read the letter and you knew exactly what it was. Now why did you ignore it?” Flames surrounded Matheson as sweat poured down his face.

“The captain gave me another case.” Poe responded.

“It got you on television, did it not?”

“Yes. I get domestic disputes all the time. I didn’t think this one was so serious.” Poe explained.

“They are all serious crimes, Poe. But not all of them feed your ego by putting you on the evening news. Do they? And that’s why Isabel was killed. Because of your vanity,” the little girl turned to Matheson, “I’m sorry to have troubled you Detective Matheson. It was a pleasure speaking with you.” The lights flickered off for a second before turning on again just as suddenly.

The room was back to normal, smelling of cigarette ash instead of sulfur. Isabel was gone. Detective Poe was gone. Detective Matheson stood alone in the interrogation room, clutching desperately to his medal.