Chapter 4
The police officers were, oddly enough, quite polite about asking Gabriel to kindly put his hands just so, and place his legs like this whilst leaning against the car. The fact that he was quite obviously shocked, un-armed, and made no attempt to resist arrest went a long way towards them being almost pleasant about the whole deal.
"You have the right to remain silent," they informed him. Gabriel nodded. "If you waive that right, anything you say will be written down and can be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?"
"Um... Yes." Gabriel's brains were working overtime. What he had witnessed had to be shoved to the back of his mind now, while he came up with a story that'd sound at least remotely believable. The policeman's voice droned on, occasionally asking him if he understood. He said "yes" at the appropriate times, while managing to keep his shaking legs from buckling under him.
"Oh my... This sucks", he said, looking around as the police officers asked him to get into the backseat of the squad car. People were emerging, seemingly from nowhere, along with another two police units. He could have sworn the streets had been empty while Suriya fought... him. Damn! He looked out on the slightly blackened spot where Suriya had met her fate. He hadn't thought of her as being mortal, but it seemed that she was. Had been.
The handcuffs they had put on him chafed a bit but not too badly. The back of the seat had an indentation to make room for a prisoner's arms, so it was possible to sit fairly comfortably. Gabriel leaned back and took a deep breath, staring blankly out the window at the cops milling about, taking pictures, talking to people. He wished they'd get on with it. He was trying to put together a likely story about why he happened to be standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, holding a dead man in his arms. It wouldn't be easy.
Finally the cops got into the car and one turned to look at Gabriel.
"We'll just take you to the precinct now, sir," he said. "We have a number of questions for you in order to determine what kind of situation we have here."
Gabriel nodded. "Sure. I understand. I am... completely stunned..." He let the sentence trail off, and did his best to project fear and confusion. It wasn't all that difficult, considering what he had just seen. During the latter years he had seen a lot of very odd and very violent things happening, but somehow this had been violent in a chilling way. Because he knew that there was no way in hell he could ever hope to defend himself from... that thing if it chose to come for him.
The police car drove off, leaving the reinforcements to poke around and ask questions. Not that they'd be getting any answers, though. In this neighbourhood the police were if not hated, then at least not everybody's best friends. They wouldn't get lies, but nobody would have seen anything. That would work to Gabriel's advantage.
He wasn't brought in to be questioned right away. Once they arrived at the police station he was asked to place all his belongings on a tray. He emptied out his pockets and watched the police officer put everything in a brown envelope with his name on it. The policeman hesitated a bit, holding the car keys.
"Charger?" he said. Gabriel nodded.
"'78."
"Wasn't that the last real Charger?"
Gabriel smiled. "Yeah, pretty much. They made the Magnum after that, I think."
The policeman nodded and then shook his head. "Shame, really. Anyway... This way, sir. Someone will be with you shortly. Can I get you a glass of water?"
"That would be great, thanks!" Gabriel said gratefully. The policeman grinned.
"My uncle gave me his old Charger, a '71, some ten years ago, and bought himself a Viper. Ever the Dodge fan..."
The two men smiled to each other as the policeman showed Gabriel into a room with a table and a couple of chairs.
"Someone will bring you a glass of water in a minute", he said and closed the door behind him, leaving Gabriel alone.
Gabriel sat down by the table and looked at the mirror on the wall opposite. For a second he felt like saying a lot of rude words whilst looking into the mirror, but he thought better of it. He maintained what he hoped was a tired and slightly confused expression, looking at his hands, sighing. He had a kind of story ready now. The simplest of simple - and simple was always the safest. Also he felt sure that if some witness was to come forward and explain what had happened, no one would believe a word of it anyway.
"So you say this man and this woman fought with fire, and in the end the woman burned to ashes in his hand, and was blown away by the breeze? Please come with us sir. Will you blow in this tube? Yes, it's a breathalyzer, sir..."
Gabriel shook his head. No, he would be safe from witnesses. He hoped.
Since they had removed his wristwatch he had no idea how long he had been sitting in the room. His butt was beginning to go numb from the hard chair, and he was getting hungry. And thirsty, since he never had been given the glass of water promised. He was getting to the point where he contemplated getting up and knocking on the door to attract attention, when the door opened and two policemen came in. They wore plain clothes and looked like accountants - excepting the fact that few accountants would wear shoulder holsters that could be spotted under the open jackets.
They sat down and placed a recording device on the table between them, and pressed a button.
"How do you do, Mr. Whindam. I am Inspector Craig, and this is Detective Munroe. We are going to ask you some questions about today's events, just to determine what kind of situation it was. You should be advised that we are recording this conversation."
Gabriel nodded, and wondered why cops had to speak in that way. "Determine the situation. Be advised."
"So... Please state your name for the recording."
"Gabriel Whindam."
"In your own words, Mr. Whindam, what happened today outside the house of Bastiaan LeFeure?"
"Well..."; Gabriel scratched his head. "I had been visiting Mr. LeFeure... Just flew in a few hours ago from St. Louis. Business, you know. Anyway I was just going to my car when this other car came speeding along. Um. Maybe around the corner, I forget. But it made me jump back onto the sidewalk. And it stopped and the backdoor opened... And this guy was thrown out. I was standing, like, two feet from the car, and I caught him in my arms. He was dead, as far as I could tell. But he bled like hell..."
He fell silent, shaking his head and muttering about why they had to pick him to throw dead people at. The policemen looked at each other.
"This man... You say he was dead. And he was pushed out of this car. What kind of car was it?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't look at it as such, and then I was holding an armful of smelly, dead hobo. I wasn't paying attention."
Gabriel gave himself a mental kick for being too cocky. The two detectives exchanged glances again.
"Well, Mr. Whindam. I...", began the inspector, but a knock on the door interrupted him. A young woman poked her head in and motioned to him. He rose.
"Just a moment."
Gabriel could hear their mumbling coversation just outside the door. And then he heard the inspector's voice rise.
"You gotta be kidding! Ten hours?!"
A few moments later he came back in, looking slightly flustered.
"You are free to go, Mr. Whindam. We would appreciate it if you let us know if and when you leave town. We might want to ask you some more questions."
"Oh...", Gabriel said, dumbly. "Well... okay. Er. Thanks. Did someone bail me out?"
The inspector smiled. "No. No, we just have no reason to keep you here. The man who you were found holding in your arms has been determined to have been dead at least ten hours prior to being... thrown at you. We do still want to find out why you ended up in that position, though..."
The words sounded very innocent, but as Gabriel re-stuffed his pockets with his belongings he knew that from now on his job would be even more dangerous. Before he had only been battling the forces of evil, demons and spirits: now he had also caught the attention of the New Orleans Police Department.
To be continued...
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Credits:
Base Concept:
artman2003
Title idea:
DejaMorgana
Contributors (so far):
artman2003,
Uberbanana,
Dejamorgana,
jessicaj,
Junkill,
Dimview
Plot Developed by: Above-mentioned contributors, with some suggestions by non-contributing members of
e2collaborators
Directed by:
artman2003