‘Talk!’ McDonald shouts. ‘Come on you snake! Where were you on the night of the fifth?’
The lampshade, which was violently swung by Detective James McDonald a few moments earlier, finally settles above the table where Eddie Magellan cries with his head in his hands. ‘Busy,’ Eddie wipes his tears. ‘I was busy, I already told you. Where’s my solicitor? I’m entitled to a solicitor.’
McDonald is tired of this shit. Junkies like Magellan never know where they are. And now the poor bastard has pissed himself.
McDonald had trod the fine line once. If not for Susie, he’d be a symptomatic case like Magellan; if not for Susie, he’d probably be pissing his pants right now too.
‘I ain’t no snake, man!’ Eddie says. ‘You wanna get yourself a holiday chequebook, get your teeth done. Catch in the sights of the crocodile bay, man!’
‘Shit,’ McDonald says. ‘The guy’s crashing. Get him back in the cell. Let him sleep it off.’
McDonald takes a sip of his tea. It tastes too sweet. Even sugar is too much these days. He checks his phone, no messages from Susie. It’s been a week. Everything had erupted so quickly. An argument, a little misunderstanding over dinner and before he knew it he was in with another women with a head full of coke. There had been no discussion, she just wanted to split.
Nobody’s around. The rest of the boys are off somewhere else. McDonald helps himself to Magellan’s evidence bag. Nobody need know. Just a little. Once more won’t hurt. Something to take his mind off Susie, something to smooth the edge until things get better.
Image: Lost in Darkness by Raul Petri via Unsplash