"I am quite sorry for what happened here. I had cautioned Tre to be careful on how to approach this situation, and unfortunately things…backfired."
Eric McMillan had sat down in Mike's chair with his shoulders pulled straight back, jaws clenched in tension, his right foot tapping a nervous rhythm against the carpeted floor.
"See, this is the second time somebody apologized to me today.", the Lieutenant countered cynically and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his peripheral vision trained on the comings and goings of the busy bullpen throughout his closed door, waiting anxiously for his partner to return, "But just like I told Tre, I will not allow for some political agenda to jeopardize my investigation."
"That is perfectly understandable, Lieutenant. And it's not my intention to mess with your guys' work whatsoever."
Part of Mike really wanted to consult with Lenny on the bi-polar nature of McMillan's character, the way in which he could go from a menacing businessman to a cooperative, caring, downright civilized human being in the flick of a switch. It couldn't be healthy to the psyche in any stretch of the imagination.
"Then why don't you do all of us here in the department a huge favor and tell us what exactly your intention is, Mister McMillan? What is it that you and Theresa Summers have planned, that could possibly be affected by our investigation into your father's murder?"
Drawing in a deep breath, McMillan glanced straight at him, then swallowed hard as he tried to come up with the right words, his foot tapping the floor even faster now.
"The truth is that, as you had already guessed, Lieutenant, I am planning on running for a city council seat next year. I have spent several years preparing for this opportunity, garnering support, doing everything I can to serve and protect my constituents. Tre has been tremendously helpful in getting me in the door, so to speak, with many of the local educational chairs…which in turn has allowed me to gather an impressive following well before elections."
"And because donations to the local schools would have looked as bribery coming from your account, you channeled these donations through your father, making him your election mascot. How…tasteless."
Mike's harsh words made the other man hesitate for a moment, then nod yieldingly.
"Some of that money was meant to support him, and he decided to give it away too. But yeah, a large portion of those transfers were to be channeled to supporters, that much is true. It's politics, Lieutenant. I don't expect you to understand it. Or condone it. But it is, what it is."
Smiling at the ridiculous irony of McMillan's conditional donations, Mike stood back up and stopped by his gray file cabinet, resting an elbow near the water carafe, and playing with his black reading glasses in the other hand.
"And Theresa is bent out of shape that our current investigation would put a…a stain on that puffy cloud of charity, happiness and goodwill you two had created over the past…oh…what did our research say…twenty-six months? That all your work would be in vain because your father inconveniently died. And that once your campaign starts in a few weeks, the only thing people will remember is that your father was murdered in a serial killing spree, and forget all about that money you pumped into all these schools to suck up to your voter base."
He could see the tremors run through McMillan's body at the realization of all the investigative work that had been put into his person by now. Reaching up, the businessman played with his green tie, loosening it, before he spoke up again.
"She…may have mentioned something like that, yeah. Not using such words but yeah…she had expressed concerns."
"And what about you, Mister McMillan?", Mike pried, his blue eyes scanning the other man fiercely, "Being that you are planning on a career as a public servant, who is supposed to lead this city with his deeply-rooted morals, unquestionable integrity, somebody who's going to knock on houses begging for people's trust in a few weeks… just what are your thoughts about this situation?"
By now, McMillan was visibly shaking, the fragile shell of self-control he had bestowed upon himself fraying on the edges, the slimy smile becoming more forced by the second.
"Well…you see…I am a firm believer of the truth, and that we need to do whatever is in our power to find it. That's why I was so passionate the other day, in your Captain's office. I want the man caught who did this to my father and all the other innocent people along the way."
Realizing that McMillan was quickly switching back to politician mode, Mike smiled with a condescending headshake, too experienced to have the other man's attempts to sway him raise his blood pressure.
"Now, surely, this public display of compassion can't be the only reason for your visit today, now is it, Mister McMillan?"
Shaking his head vehemently, the business man ran a hand down his tie again, preparing for his discussion highlight with great enthusiasm.
"Not at all, Lieutenant Stone, not at all. I came here today because I think I can help you in your investigation. It goes along my campaign pillar of supporting our police force, increasing public awareness of the challenges in the way of our brothers in blue. And well, it didn't strike me until later, but it all makes sense now. You see, I may have found your strangler. I think your killer is my sister Erin."
