The Detention Center

"I believe you're innocent, miss!"

"But the evidence points towards me."

"But we still haven't found the murder weapon."

"Wouldn't you think a normal, smart murderer put on gloves before touching the gun?"

"Oh, that true."

The detention center was average. It looked like how it did in the movies. Dark, cold, and full of suspects.

I'm at least happy that Lekkey believes me.

"I don't understand why sir doesn't trust you." Lekkey began pouting. "You are a nice lady, miss."

"Thanks, Lekkey." Still, I wasn't going to give up. I know something was off about the wrist of Don Parker. "Lekkey, do you happen to know much about tattoos?"

"Somewhat. Why do you ask?"

"Is there any type of tattoos that fade away?"

"Well, I know some that disappear over a period of time."

"How long is that period for?"

"Years at least."

That's not what I was looking for. "How about ones that disappear over night?"

"Hmmm...I heard something like that. Except where they dissapear under the sunlight. They don't stay hidden at night though or under non-ultraviolet lights."

Wait...hold on! "Lekkey! Thank you!"

"What did I do, miss?"

"Could you do me a favor, Lekkey?"

"Yes?"

"Could you look at Don Parker's left wrist in the morgue?"

"I can't do that, miss. I'm just an intern."

"Is Mr. Bianchi going to the morgue anytime soon?"

"Possibly. Not too sure."

"I understand. Then this will be tricky." I begin to bite my nail. This really isn't good.

Wait. Ah! That's it!

"Lekkey, do you happen to know if all gangs have tattoos?"

"I'm not sure. You'd probably have to ask Kitty that."

"I see." That's true. Lekkey probably wouldn't know.

"Your time is up." The policeman told Lekkey.

"I understand." Lekkey said before leaving. "I'll be sure to ask Kitty for you."

"Thank you, Lekkey."

After Lekkey left, I had another visitor.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Berger." The man greeted me.

"Good afternoon, sir." I said, wearily. I didn't even know who he was.

"Oh right. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Neil Dyer. I'm the prosecutor for this case." He informed me.

"Prosecutor?"

"Yes. Now tell me, did you kill Mr. Don Parker?"

"Even if I said I didn't, you wouldn't believe me, is that correct?"

"Well, yes, but I would like to hear your story."

"Isn't that the defense attorney's job, though?"

"I would just like to hear your story compared to the witnesses."

"Witnesses? There was more than one witness?"

"Correct. Now, answer my question."

There were other witnesses...

"No, I did not."

"I see. Where is the murder weapon?" Prosecutor Dyer ignored my answer.

"I have not clue."

"Ms. Berger, it would make life easier if you'd just tell me."

"Easier for you. My life is hard as it is."

"If you want to act this way, go ahead. I will make you suffer and become ashamed of what you had done. If you had only told me, your life would have been easier."

"I'm telling you. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all." I argued. This guy is seriously getting on my nerves.

"Good bye, Ms. Berger." Prosecutor Dyer excused himself.

I guess no one believes me. I would shocking if my defense attorney actually believed me. I sometimes wonder.

"Seems like nobody believes you, huh?"

I looked up and saw Mr. Bianchi. I then smiled. "Nope. Not even you."

"Ouch." Mr. Bianchi chuckled. "You don't need to be so harsh. I'm just doing my job. Can't trust anyone as a detective."

I then leaned back in my chair. "I suppose so."

"You had Lekkey do a favor for you, didn't you."

I looked up at him. He seemed to have found out. "Yes. I did. I asked him to look at the wrist of Don Parker's body. I'm hoping he will see what I saw that night."

"And what was that?"

"A tattoo." I answered. Why was I so afraid before?

"A tattoo?"

"Yes. One that looks like the top of a 'c.'" I explained.

"What? Why didn't you say anything earlier, Ms. Berger? This is important evidence."

"I was frightened." I truthfully told him. "I thought your office and the alley were tampered by the murderers. I thought if I were to say something, they would kill me or torture me like they had Don Parker."

"You saw Don Parker's death, didn't you?"

I looked up at the eager Mr. Bianchi. I then answered his anticipating question. "Yes."