"Alright, let's try this again…"
Mike had lowered his voice to an annoyed growl as he leaned back against his outside window, keeping a keen eye on his middle-aged suspect who, for the time being, seemed to have lost his voice.
In the corner by his door, Steve exhaled slowly, massaging his stiff neck for a few seconds as they waited for the man to answer.
Just like before, he remained silent.
The only subtle sign of his inner turmoil was the quick tapping of his right foot against the carpeted floor. His eyes were partially hidden behind the disheveled medium long black hair dangling off his forehead and his clothes looked raggedy.
Mike figured they were dealing with a homeless man who had found himself choosing the wrong warehouse to overnight.
"You do realize that you were tampering with a crime scene.", Steve tried sternly, just to see if it would bring out any sort of reaction, but there was none. Sharing a worried glance with his partner, Mike decided to try a different method.
Sitting down on his desk right next to his suspect, he briefly adjusted his pant legs before clearing his throat.
"I think I know why you are so scared. And I understand it, too."
For the first time since they brought him in, the man looked up at Mike. His troubled brown eyes scanned the Lieutenant intently, so much, that even his tapping foot had stopped moving.
"I think you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe you've been down on your luck for a while, and you were looking for a place to overnight before the rain moved in. That warehouse looked quiet and safe enough at the time. But then things happened. Bad things."
Nodding ever so gently, the man's eyes moved back down to the floor, as if he couldn't maintain Mike's intent stare. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap in a silent prayer.
"And maybe you were scared because of what you saw. Because it was an awful thing to witness."
Over in the corner, Steve drew in a deep breath, but stayed quiet otherwise. As his bright green eyes followed the scene intently, Mike thoroughly enjoyed the teaching moment he'd pulled his partner into. Anytime he was able to coerce a suspect with humanity instead of forcing the law down somebody's throat, it was a win-win for everybody involved. No matter how much he despised homicide to begin with, every human being deserved to be treated with respect and dignity. After all, that's what Mike was there for to enforce.
The man slowly nodded, causing both detectives to share an ominous glance. Clearing his throat, Mike leaned forward a bit more and put his hands in his lap, before continuing.
"Now, Sir, we're not here to pass judgment on your sleeping arrangements. Believe me, we have far bigger things to worry about. But we are here because two people are dead. And whether or not they deserved what they had coming is not important right now. What is important is that we find out who killed them and stop that person. And as much as I know you are afraid to even think about what happened there last night, I am certain you might be able to give us a pretty good description of our killer."
"Everything happened so fast. It was…terrible."
The man's hoarse voice was so quiet, they barely could hear it over the background noise of the bullpen. Bending down to face his suspect better, Mike nodded understandingly, before taking a deep breath.
"We have seen the crime scene. It was not for the faint of heart. Whoever did this is a very…very cold-blooded person. What we need to know is, did you see him? Could you describe him perhaps? Height? Weight? What was the color of his hair?"
Nodding his head ever so slightly, the man reached for the coffee cup Mike had placed there since the beginning of the interview. As he took a sip, the coffee almost spilled from the shaking of his hands.
"He was lanky. Kinda like your partner there. But taller. I'd say six foot three. Dark hair. Maybe one-hundred-eighty pounds. But I couldn't tell because he wore a long black coat."
Out of the corner of his eyes, Mike could see Steve reach for his notepad and eagerly scribbling down the description.
"Did you hear his voice at all? Was it low? High pitched? Did he have an accent?"
"I didn't hear any of that…", the man said when a shudder went through him, "I woke up when I heard a yell. Or maybe even a yelp of sorts. Like when something is dying."
Mike glanced up at his partner, who seemed to turn a shade paler at their witnesses' words.
"Sir, can you tell us exactly what you saw once you woke up?"
"I saw two men lying on the ground. The guy…the killer, he tossed one of them in the bay like it was nothing. I was…I went to sleep behind the wooden crates and there was a just enough of a crack in the metal to see the edge of the dock and the water. But I saw the two men on the ground. And after he tossed the one guy in the water, the tall guy…he disappeared. I was so scared that he'd seen me, that I covered myself with an old tarp that was lying nearby and just…I just hid there. Then I heard footsteps coming down toward the warehouse and held my breath. But the guy had come for the backhoe. So once he drove it out of there, I…I hightailed it. I was so scared, I never even remembered to grab my stuff. When I went back for it this afternoon, you guys showed up."
Before Mike could ask his next question, Steve cleared his throat and stepped closer.
"Sir, did you drink last night?"
Cursing inwardly when he immediately saw their witness clam up, Mike pursed his lips and threw a warning glance in his partner's direction, but Steve ignored it.
"If you are trying to say I made this up-"
"I am not saying anything. Did you or did you not drink last night? It's what you came back for, isn't it? The bottle of booze."
The man sighed audibly and ran a shaky hand through his unkempt hair, before leaning forward and glancing into the bottom of his coffee cup again.
"Yeah I drank last night. Are you happy now, kid?"
Mike could see his partner prepare for another round of questions and symbolically raised his hand as a warning to quiet him down. Although Steve had brought up a valid concern, he didn't like his conduct one bit. If they were to find out anything further about their killer, it wouldn't be with intimidation methods.
Steve seemed agitated at the unspoken request but backed off again, before resuming his position against the file cabinet. Leaning over to the side of his glass walled office, Mike knocked on the window to get Art's attention.
"Sir, I am going to have Sergeant Sekulovich take down your information. It is important for our police report. He will also assist you in getting a place at one of the local homeless shelters we work with in the area. It would be extremely helpful if you stay in contact with us in case we have any further questions. Judging by the way this killer is behaving, our two dead guys may not be his last victims. "
Much to Mike's surprise, the man nodded in cooperation before getting out of the chair and walking towards the waiting Sergeant.
Closing the door behind them again, the Lieutenant drew in a deep breath before positioning himself in front of his partner.
"What was that all about?"
Swallowing the wave of anger that clouded his green eyes for a second, Steve shifted uncomfortably before shrugging.
"It was detective work. I just asked a question."
"No, you didn't.", Mike retorted quickly and leaned closer toward his partner. Close enough to smell the aftershave that probably cost more than a months' paycheck.
When Steve pursed his lips and stared back at him in defiance, Mike made a point to keep up his stern eye contact, until he saw his partner blink.
"You didn't just ask a question. You judged."
Exhaling sharply, Steve rolled his eyes and tried to move away, only to have Mike hold him in place with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I didn't judge. I just don't believe his testimony. The coroner said that time of death was midnight. There's no way in hell that he saw what he claims he did last night. The light was too dim. From that distance, he would have been lucky to see shadows…heck, for all I know, this guy could be our killer putting up a real good disguise."
"No…no, I don't think he is our killer. I saw terror in his eyes. He saw something…", Mike said and considered the valid point Steve had made, "Hold on a second…"
Maintaining the grasp on his partner's shoulder as if he was afraid the young Inspector might rush out of the office otherwise, Mike reached for his small desk calendar and studied the dates as best as possible without his reading glasses.
"That's what I thought…", he mumbled before handing the calendar over to Steve, "Here, look at this. It was a full moon last night. And the night was cold and clear. The light from the moon would have illuminated the docks enough to see the murder. We can go back tonight to verify."
Nodding quietly, Steve glanced up at him one last time before moving toward the door.
"I guess so. In the meantime, I…er…I am going to check on R&I, see where we are with the fingerprints and dental records. I'll also call the DMV on Gino's vehicle, maybe the killer stole it, you never know. Then I'll head downstairs to Vice and talk to Marc about our…illusive killer. See if he's heard anything on the streets about this guy."
"You do that…", Mike said before reaching for a napkin and lifting the coffee cup with it, "And while you're down there, have them run the finger prints on this and get an ID on our witness."
Surprised by his craftiness, Steve smirked and grabbed their newest piece of evidence. Mike saw him glance down for a second, as if to think of something else to say but then deciding to remain quiet and reach for the door handle.
"You sure, you're alright Buddy Boy?"
The question seemed to make the young Inspector freeze in his spot. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he managed a faint nod even though his body language suggested otherwise.
"Always, Mike."