"He shouldn't've provoked me," she snaps. She is a fairly young woman of about nineteen years of age. He supposes she must be beautiful when her appearance is not disheveled, and when her eyes do not hold a manic gleam. He also supposes that he would find her quite beautiful if they had met on the street and not in his office, and that he would have envied the man who claimed her as his own if he were escorting her and not lying dead on the floor of their home. (He supposes that the body may have been removed by now, but he will forever picture the sailor as he was found at the scene of the attack.)
The officer sighs. "Whether or not he provoked you is of little relevance, Miss Johanna," he replies. His voice sounds rather dry; he is fairly inattentive to her presence, looking more at the case report than at the deranged blonde.
"Well he shouldn't have," she says again. "He should've known better. He should've known not to provoke me," she adds with a hint of pride in her voice, and when the officer looks up, he notes that she holds her head with an air of dignity.
"You mean that he should have known you were mentally unstable?"
Johanna looks taken aback. "He should've known I'd do it is what I meant," she declares. "He should'nt've assumed I was docile. You know I shot a man?" she asks, though the officer supposes he is not meant to answer. He does know; he has records from the asylum. "I did," she says when he remains silent. "I did, and I shot him dead. Shot him dead and he saw me! He watched me shoot him. He saw me! He knew I could kill! He should've KNOWN!" She breathes heavily, and the officer notes that she sits up in the chair as though she means to get up; he is thankful when she does not.
He supposes that he should ask her what Anthony Hope did to provoke her so, and so he does. The young woman instantly takes on an expression unique to those who feel they have suffered a great injustice. "He had the nerve to ask me what happened there of all places! He should've known not to pry. He should've known that I wouldn't want to talk about that place, he should've known that I wouldn't want to remember, he should've known how long I'd been trying to forget!"
"It's understandable that you would be angry, Miss Johanna," the officer says as calmly as he can. (He notes with some pleasure that his tone seems to have placated the girl, like soothing music to a wild beast.) "But I'm afraid that with your recent actions and your history of mental illness, I'm afraid we'l-"
He stops as he notes the look of sheer terror in Johanna's eyes. "No. Don't- don't send me back there! Not there- I told you, I killed a man just to get out of there, what makes you think I should go back? Not there- hang me, kill me, a life for a life, right? Just- not there," she pleads, and the officer feels moved by her speech, and her voice, but most of all by the look in her eyes. (Again she reminds him of a wild beast, but this time a beast abused by man.)
It is a hot day, warm and sticky, and he cannot wait to get home. But Anthony Hope is dead, and his young wife his murderer, and she is sitting in his office, and it is the officer's job to deal with her according to the law, regardless of how horrid the asylum may be.