A MILLION DOLLARS A FUCK-PART2

INTERROGATION

The police station sparkled like a new veneer. Emaculately kept grounds framed a modern, freshly
painted building. Without the sign out front it could have been mistaken for a tony private school.
It was a beautiful fascade wrapped around the rot and decay society wanted kept hidden and buried.
Ushered through the glass doors, Brendan was greeted with an odor that was distinctly jailhouse.
Lysol and bleach were losing their battle against the caked on grime of the street. Trace smells
of stale vomit and urine lightly drifted in the poorly circulating air. Dingy walls and sterile
decor were doing their best to suck the life out of soul and spirit. No wonder cops were always
angry, Brendan thought. They worked out of a public toilet.

Brendan was quickly marched over and shackled to a bench. Business was slow; he was the only
customer on the long empty row. He started preparing himself for the holding cell – the worst part
of the jailing experience. He had a long and uncomfortable night ahead of him. He and the other
flotsam from the streets were going to share a crowded cell before being shipped off to the county
jail in the morning.

The unholy smell announced his presence before Brendan saw him. An officer was leading him over to
to be shackled next to Brendan. His pores reeked of vile and unspeakable acts. Revulsion swirled in
Brendan’s stomach warning him of what was coming, triggering a full blown panic attack.

“Officer. You can’t sit him next to me.” Brendan meant for it to be a plea but it sounded more like
a commmand.

“There’s no preferred seating here, sugar,” the jowly middle-aged cop said wearily.

“No. You don’t understand – “

“Is there going to be a problem here?” The cop said it in a monotone so icy that Brendan knew not to
utter another word.

A smile turned up the corners of his new seatmate’s mouth as the officer turned to leave. Brendan
started squirming, pulling away from him even as he felt the cuffs bite into his wrist.

“Officer!” He yelled at the retreating cop who didn’t break stride.

“Somebody get me out of here!” he shouted as his seatmate pulled a snarling puppy from his waist length
coat.

“Get me out of here!” Brendan was flailing like a fish in the bottom of a boat as the man hit the puppy
twice in the head with his fist before unzipping his fly.

“AAAAAAAH!” Brendan yelled at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to drown out the yelps of the
mongrel being brutally raped.

A swarm of uniforms appeared out of nowhere and pounced on Brendan, cutting off his air. A leather mask
was forced over his face and the metal cuffs were replaced by plastic restraints. He was hogtied
before he knew it and was being physically carried somewhere. Finally he was dropped belly down on the
concrete floor of a nearly barren room furnished with only a card table and a couple of folding chairs.

Brendan didn’t know how long he lay there alone. He was too busy fighting to breathe through the mask
to account for time.

He heard the door open and hard sole shoes echoing on the concrete walking toward his head. The shoes
were expensive but the cologne wafting about was cheap. Brendan couldn’t lift his head to see who was
standing before him.

“I hear you put on quite a performance out there, Brendan.” The condescending tone grated on Brendan’s
nerves.”I’m detective White.”

“Now, I can understand you not wanting to talk to us. But I really don’t think you want us to call the
wacky wagon. The good doctors over at the booby hatch have a new batch of powerful drugs they just love
trying out on a twitchy puppies like you… Take his mask off.” Brendan felt a knee in his back as
the mask was removed.

“So what’s it gonna be? You want to stay here and play with us or do you want to go pill popping with
the good doctors?”

“I wanna stay here,” Brendan said, happy to breathe freely again.

“We want to remove the restraints, Brendan, but we can’t do that if you are danger to yourself or others.
Are we going to behave ourselves?” Brendan nodded as best he could. He felt hands and knees moving over
his body as the restraints were removed. Then he was lifted onto his feet. Four men, two of them in uniform
carrying tasers, escorted Brendan to Interview Room 4.

In the middle of the room a gray metal table was bolted to the floor. The edges of the table were padded.
Electrical tape had been used to doctor the padding in certain spots. Two chairs were at the table, four
others were tossed in the corners of the room.

“Take a seat, Brendan. This is my partner, Detective Raymond. We’re investigating Mr. Park’s murder.”
They were an odd couple. Det. White had the build of a tennis player. Det. Raymond had the thick neck and
blocky muscles of a wrestler. A woman was also in the room standing to the left of Det. Raymond. Brendan
tried his best to ignore her.

“This doesn’t look good for you, Brendan,” Det. White said taking a seat at the table. Det. Raymond
remained standing.

“You killed a man for profit. That puts a needle in your arm.