Detective Daniels’ office was bigger than the rest but tight and stuffy all the same. The glass door met a window overlooking a sea of desks  overflowing with paperwork and antiquated laptops, with red-faced, overweight street soldiers stationed at them.

Tom could feel the open void of that pit staring at his back as he sat in front of Daniels’ own desk. Behind it, the detective looked half constipated as he studied Tom, seeming to wait for him to break the silence.

Tom obliged. “Detective, I — ”

“Two murders. Two houses. And you, at both of them.” Daniels tsked. “Tom, I’ve been at this a long time. Long as you’ve been alive, maybe longer. You see all sorts of shit working homicide — we’ve got the bangers down here, 110er’s looking to smoke some homeboy who wandered the wrong avenue in the 10th ward. Gagliano rounded up a good count in his time, too. Course he was working for the big man: ‘Little Man’ Marcello. They get a lot done when they’re organized, mhm.”

Tom had no idea who or what Daniels was talking about. He could only sit quietly and patiently and think, “Isn’t that what innocent men do?”

“Then there’s the bums who don’t like you backing out of shoe bets. You get nicked pretty good for that, don’t doubt it. Gay bashin’ youngin’s, work an artist up something ugly. Yeah, we’ve got a little bit of everything. And every once in a while, you college boys stumble into the middle of it. Get yourselves shanked on Bourbon. Try one too many big boy deals and get stomped by a real major leaguer. It’s this or that. One run in will usually tame the rest of ‘em, but only for a while. They’re all the same — all want to wander out from under daddy’s umbrella and see what it feels like to really get wet. You, though, you,” Daniels took a pull  from a coffee mug and shook his head. “You’re something else. You’re sopping wet, son! That you are, Tom.”

Tom hadn’t blinked once. His eyes were red and raw when he said, “Why would I kill somebody? That’s insane. I’ll tell you everything I know that will help you solve these, detective, but I had nothing to do with them.”

“Well, Tom, I’ve been surprised before. Didn’t think much of you after our last meet. A half-ass smartass, sure, but there’s plenty of those. Seemed a little too busy to be murdering folks, what with your classes and work and partying, but you go and show up at another one.” He put his hands in the air to show his perplexity. “I’ve been surprised before. Don’t always expect ‘em.”

“So I’ve been told,” Tom said with a wandering stare. He wondered how prudent it would be to get a lawyer. It seemed like a guilty man’s move, but he seemed guiltier and guiltier with each passing second.