The Interview Rooms in Police Precinct 23 were unique.
They could be mistaken for spaces where musical bands could rent out a couple of hours to practice their cover song or designing their new hit single. All four sides of the wall had deep black geometrical foam pads that resembled dull spikes. The type of foam that soaked in any sound that was made inside of the interior. The floor was also made with a soft material that sucked in any ambience sound. There were no doors, rather the exits were impossible to find unless one was familiar with its design. Each wall had nothing but onyx black padding, any gap would be hidden in the lack of colour and shades. The only source of lighting was the over head fluorescent light.
There wasn’t even the classical two way mirror. Or, it too was hiding behind the transparent foam. Some believe it would be harder to guess who is watching and from which angle. Some would also wager it was a form of psychological tactic against suspects.
Zero interference from the outside world. Justice always watching.
Felicia Harvey sat at the table, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Inspector May, correct? Why am I here? I am a sick person, I should be resting at home.”
Inspector May sat across from Felicia at a triangle table in the center of the interview room. Alone, she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs to get comfortable, and adjusted the buttons on her blazer. “You sure have a unique taste in mattresses. I never knew train beds could be that comfortable.”
The inspector tapped the table. The entire table top lit up, displaying a start up animation with electronic sounds. It broke Felicia’s cool as she watched the triangle table brighten up and unfold a series of desktop like screens and windows with files placed on the side – like an actual computer monitor.
All Inspector May had to do was double tap on a folder reading [SARAH TUCKER CASE] and drag one picture out of a sub folder. With a bloom of her finger tips the gesture expanded on a scanned image.
A train ticket. First Class.
“Not many people take the train out of the city. I mean, sure it’s decent but old. Not to mention rather slow.” Inspector May continued, leaning back in her chair and tapping a finger on her chair’s armrest. “First thought would be a plane, or you driving. We’ve had some suspects take a private boat and escape off another island where security is really lose. Train? I guess I’ll give you an award for creativity.”
“Inspector” Felicia crossed her own legs, but winced in doing so with her muscle movement. “This is my privacy. Your officers just grabbed me while I was on my way home. The way they cut me off in the middle of the road could have caused an accident. Are you really that eager to meet my lawyer?...Oh sorry, medications. I meant lawyers.” Felicia giggled with a shrug. “Being an insurance agents gets you in many people’s pockets. High, and low.”
“Hmmm.” Inspector May hummed and scratched a finger to her cheek. “Miss Felicia Harvey. Where were you between the hours of 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM this early morning?”
Felicia rolled her eyes. She plucked out a bottle of lotion to rub her hands and her wrists. Even when she spread the cream evenly, she continued to playfully rub her hands together. “I thought I already told your detectives I was stuck in the hospital, before they discharged me later in the morning.”
“Yes. Your roommate, Chandler Barnes. He was talking to you all night.”
The ex-insurance opened her hands with a shrug. “The old geezer. Such a chatter box, wouldn’t shut up. Thank goodness I asked for some sleep medications beforehand. Turned my back and nodded off, let the old man do whatever. I was out cold.”
Suddenly, the wall behind her caved in. Rather, a section of the wall opened up to reveal itself as a door. Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb came in, clutching onto several plastic bags. They walked around, nodding to the inspector, who the latter pointed a finger to the table.
“Chandler was indeed talking,” Leo muttered “even the nurses verified he was chatting up a storm--” He then flopped the first plastic bag onto the table top. Inside was a 1000 dollar bill. “—To a bunch of pillows under a blanket.”
Felicia eyed the bag, the money. Lips pursed. She stopped playing with her hands.
McLamb leaned in next to her, before he touched the table top. It brought up an image and he expanded it to see in full detail. It was the photo of a dash cam, a driver with a cap and sunglasses gripping the steering wheel with driving gloves as it rushed down the street. “Do you recognize this car, Miss Harvey?”
“It’s obviously not mine, so no.”
“After preparing Chandler Barnes as your alibi, you snuck out of the hospital and took a taxi. You had someone break into Frank Tucker’s car so you can have control. Using it for your own purpose.”
“What purpose is that?”
Inspector May tapped her knuckles on the table. “Offing the one person who stood in the way to your man’s heart.”
“Pffffft.” Felicia broke out laughing, clutching her gut. She would gasp every now and then, wincing in pain. Even so she chortled when she could. “What are you talking about? The whole world, even the social media, thought she was dead from the beginning.” She clicked her tongue. “It was only until this morning when your officers came to rub salt into my injuries after my boss let me go.”
Another door behind the inspector opened, startling Felicia. In walked Constable Jenny and Jackson. While the latter spun his fedora in his fingers, the former made a swiping gesture with her finger across her tablet.
A photo of a man appeared right in front of Felicia at the table. Color drained from her cheeks.
Jackson tapped his fedora on the table at the photo, before he placed his hat on his head. “No doubt you were curious as to why a man would cling onto a dead woman he hated his guts for. Obviously, your first move was to find out why. In comes a private investigator, doing what he does best: tracking cheating husbands. Who also happen to have car-jacking on his resume – and police records. Once you found where Frank Tucker has been moseying off to, you found the answer to Sarah’s disappearing act.”
Jenny adjusted her arms under her police tablet. “We received an eye witness report, from a new neighbor who had just moved into the cottage next to number 13 a few days ago. The witness and her friend finished their evening shift around 2:00 AM, the only time they could move their furniture. Around 2:30 AM, they saw a man leaving cottage number 13.” Jenny then tapped onto her tablet, and the triangle table between the inspector and Felicia pushed aside other images.
This time, it was playing a small video clip: It displayed a police line up, with several men. Among them was Frank Tucker, standing at tile number 7. He was wearing a full suit, his suit, while the others wore similar suits or clothing. In the corner of the video was a woman with a round belly. As she clutched the bottom of her bulging stomach, she leaned against the two way mirror to look at the line up who had just turned their backs to her.
[Ah him.] The pregnant woman poked at the glass. [Number 7, I’m sure. But uuh... Something’s different about him. The man I saw last night wore this exact suit, shoes, even hair, but shoulders were rather narrow, and the sleeves were oddly long. Like it hung over the palm and I could barely make out fingers. Number 7 right now looks like he fit the suit perfectly. You see? I can even see his full hands.].
Jenny pressed pause on the clip. “Frank Tucker claimed he borrowed a co-worker’s jeep without his knowledge. The forensic unit confirmed, the vehicle not only had Frank Tucker’s trace DNA and hair, it also had Sarah Tucker’s. We even followed the jeep’s GPS record and discovered an unlicensed medical clinic in downtown. This verifies Frank’s statement he often used his co-worker’s vehicle to avoid attention or being tracked. After dinner with his wife, Frank Tucker drove the jeep to refuel before returning to his friends place.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She then tapped her screen and remotely brought up a security camera photo, showing Frank Tucker inside a gas station. “Attendant said he paid in cash, while during that time someone else took Frank Tucker’s real car and intentionally broke the speed limit to be caught on the dash cam. This was an illusion to make the police believe he was the one who killed Sarah Tucker.”
Felicia stared at the video. She softly pulled any hands and fingers off the touch screen table, keeping them on her lap. The muscles in her jaw rippled as she rubbed a thumb across her wrist.
Inspector May tapped a finger on the edge of the table. “Is there anything you like to tell us?”
“I have nothing to do with it. There, happy?”
“You know.” The inspector let out a huff as she adjusted her position in her chair. “Love triangles, are often seen as a game. You win some, you lose some. And it’s impossible to win it all, without someone getting hurt in the process, right?”
“Frank Tucker and I broke it off. I don’t care about him.”
Inspector May slapped a hand onto the table. The touch screen automatically splashed a series of scanned documents and digital images across the screen like a new game of Spider Solitaire. Certificates, diplomas, degrees, awards, letters of recommendation, too much to list out in a single paragraph. The inspector continued while tapping her finger on each documents on the table.
“Felicia Harvey. Masters in Business Administration from University of Zurich, Switzerland; PhD in Insurance and Risk Management in Temple University, Philadelphia U.S.. Both magna cum laude, with distinction, and honorable mention. Top of the class AND valedictorian – in which, I quote ‘Wrote a 35 page letter to the Dean of the university to convince them why you should be elected as spokes person of the graduating class’. Number 1, Number 1, Number 1.”
“...”
“Look. I don’t know what you see in Frank Tucker. The man doesn’t even have a high school diploma.” Inspector May opened her hands, gesturing a confused expression waiting to be answered. “Has a wife who had been bullying him for 20 years, yet to have any kids. He relied on his partners to get his company off the ground and when they started to quit his company his business started to dig its own grave. Has zero carpentry experience. Renovations? Pffft. I can hire the kid in my neighbourhood to redo my whole patio worth posting on a home design Twitter page – and he’s only 15, hungry for summer jobs.” She turned her open hands into a finger gun point, eyes on the suspect. “So, what do you see in him?”
Felicia clenched her jaw, breathing between her teeth. “I saw him first--”
“I knew it.” Inspector May nodded to herself. “This isn’t about love. This is about finishing what you started: to be number one Frank’s heart. You wanted to beat Sarah Tucker, stealing her man back to your hands. You want that satisfaction that you are number 1 in this love triangle, everything is within your control.” She knocked her knuckle into the touch screen, gesturing all those gold-framed degrees projected across the table. “Frank Tucker has been using you as a life preserver, and you know it! You even counted on it to keep him on a leash. The moment he gave up on you at his wife’s beck and call, you lost! Are you really the type of woman who would walk away from all that? In defeat? Are you really the type of person who walks away when you experience a small hiccup? TELL ME, YOU LOSER!”
Felicia bolted from her seat and swung a hand at the inspector!
Leo lunged to intercept Felicia by the wrist and pinned it down. At the same time, he pulled back her long thick sleeve for everyone to see.
Cluster of hives were welling up across Felicia’s one wrist. Pus smeared with topical lotion, reddened from being rubbed for prolonged hours.
“This is what happens when paint dries on skin, Miss Harvey.” Leo spoke in a low voice. Felicia whipped her hand back and backed away, only to be gripped by Jenny and Jackson from escaping. Leo pulled out a pocket sanitary gel from his pocket, rubbing his hand clean, before resting his palms on his hips. “Jenny and Jackson mentioned you had a watch, expensive Swiss brand. McLamb and I didn’t see it this morning while you were packing, I doubt it was in that cheap cardboard box. Cottage number 13 still had wet paint. Stairs covered in newspapers and furniture protected by sheets. Paint dripped on your watch and wrist, and you tried to wipe it off.”
McLamb stepped in, placing the second evidence bag on the table. It was large, bulging with a thick white cloth that has turned grey from stains, foot prints, sooty hand prints, paint drips, caked saw dust, and other questionable sources. “Out of all the furniture covers in Cottage number 13, only this one had your skin cell sample. You had to rub hard, to get the paint off. This has never been washed, it’s been contaminated by years of work and dirt. You’re lucky it’s just a skin inflammation, or else the hospital would have to amputate your hand.”
“Frank Tucker nearly forgot one important info.” Inspector May rose to her feet and pressed out the wrinkles from her suit blazer. “Couple of nights ago, you invited him to one last dinner. To officially break up. Since that was what he wanted, he visited you with no question. Dinner, dance, and then you had him cut the fruit with a kitchen knife... Obviously, you didn’t do the dishes.” She paced around the table with fists on her hips. “You already had a plan, and you had the right materials. Access to Frank Tucker’s closet, your private investigator can break into cars, and you knew the destination. Once Sarah Tucker opened the door and realized it wasn’t her husband she tried to slam the door on you!”
Inspector May took darted over to Felicia with a single step, glaring into her eyes. “All it took was a blow to her head to stun her, you had all the time in the world to walk over, watch her squirm, trying to call for help. Then you removed the last obstacle in your game of love.” She made quick jabs in the air, as if striking an animal. “You stabbed Sarah Tucker 35 times in the back, and traded the real murder weapon with the fruit knife Frank Tucker used. No one would have suspected it. No one would ever think of a second killer. Frank Tucker stood to gain the most in this tragedy, no one else. Even the Jury would have bought it hook, line, sunk. The perfect murder...but.” She then pointed right at Felicia’s face. “You’re here, with us. You lost.”
“...35 times? Was it really that low?” Felicia started to laugh. Her body staggered on her feet. The constables held her as still as possible, but she ended up shaking her head, hair flipping left and right. Like a hound shaking off a little flea. “Why, won’t you let Frank Tucker take the fall? Don’t you hate his guts too? And Sarah? Is she really a victim? Does she truly deserve being seen as an innocent target in all of this? That woman has played more hearts than a pianist. Dr. Malcolm wasn’t her only honey bunny, I know. And what about the dead woman? The one you thought was her? Whose body was chopped up to make it look like Sarah died at the hands of the notorious Splitter? A spectacle that went viral in the news, social media, whatever!? Is Sarah Tucker really a saint worth fighting for!?”
Silence filled the interview room. Even so, the constables continued to hold Felicia as she started to ramble to herself.
“35 stabs. I swore I counted 50. I didn’t even felt tired. She really deserved it, playing everyone for a fool...And that Frank Tucker.” Felicia glared up at the inspector, tears dripping out from her red eyes and bleeding black mascara down her cheeks. “I’ve known him since we were kids, and he’s never taken responsibility for anything in his life. Missing toys, copied homework, skipping school, breaking his mother’s vase – he always blamed it on someone right next to him. And all it takes is a ‘we’re friends right?’ or ‘I love you’ and you can’t help but to forgive him...He always gets away with it.” Felicia Harvey reared her head back and started to stamp her bare foot into the floor, teeth clenching, a cry slowly rising from her throat.
“Why? Why can’t you let that man take the fall? Everything was planned perfectly. I would get to watch him rot in prison, crying out ‘I’m innocent. I’m innocent’ and let it fall on deaf ears. He’s ruined me, he ruined himself. He ruined everything....I’M DOING YOU ALL A FAVOUR, YOU IDIOTS! LET FRANK TUCKER CARRY THE TITLE OF MURDER! LET HIM SUFFER FROM HIS OWN MISTAKE FOR ONCE! JUST LET ME GO! I DIDN’T WASTE 20 YEARS OF MY LIFE ONLY TO BE TOSSED AROUND LIKE A SECOND-HAND DOLL! THE TUCKERS DESERVE TO BURN IN HELL!”
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{~~After Report~~}
Dismembered Victim – Identified as Emily Connors. Age 30. Lived alone and worked as a teacher for a local high school. Due to her habit of calling sick on an average basis, her absence was never noticed and no one reported her missing at first. The police searched Tampa Lake and have found her head, pelvis, and some remaining fingers – however they have been seriously decomposed. Her family overseas has been contacted and will take the next available plane to claim her body. The police have offered support to her kin to provide burial services and funding for Emily Connors’ funeral.
Frank Tucker – Pleads guilty for manslaughter of Emily Connors due to a hit and run. Pleads not guilty to dismembering Emily Connors’ corpse, claiming it was all Sarah Tucker’s doing. Charged for: aiding and abetting a crime, negligence in reporting a crime, tampering with the body, and insurance fraud. Sentenced to 15 years in prison with possibility of parole. Shangri-Lah Carpentry Factory has been closed down and rebuilt as a new Amazon Storehouse.
Sarah Tucker – Due to the lack of evidence insinuating Sarah Tucker dismembered Emily Connors and the defendant is deceased, no actions or charges could be made post-humorously. Her husband has been given special privileges to provide her a proper burial ceremony before he starts his sentence, under the supervision of officers. A vigil at St. Marlene was held in her honour, organized by Dr. Samuel Malcolm and close friends.
Felicia Harvey – Charged for First Degree Murder of Sarah Tucker. Defendant continues to plea for not guilty, but all evidences and forensic reports provided by C.I.D. Team B have convinced the jury of Felicia Harvey’s involvement in the crime at Cherry Grove Cottage Number 13. She has been sentenced to life imprisonment, no chance of parole. She has made many attempts of an appeal, all of which had been denied.
Splitter – Still at large.
[== HEADLESS IDENTITY – CASE CLOSED ==]