Mike smiled confidently, as he entered the interrogation room.
Taking his time to slowly close the door behind him, he placed the coroners file on the small table and sat down across from an equally confident Harry Johnson. Inhaling deeply, he pretended to casually look through the file and tapped his index finger against his coffee cup.
"Mister Johnson…my name is Lieutenant Mike Stone. I work with San Francisco PD Homicide.", he started and made eye contact with the man sitting across from him. Harry never flinched, never grew worried…instead, his thick fingers traced the outline of his mustache, as he eyed Mike suspiciously.
"Do you know why you are here today?"
A careless shrug was his initial answer, before the man leaned his six-foot frame back against the chair and ran a hand through his crew cut black hair.
"Seems to me somebody died, if Homicide is involved."
Smiling against the arrogance bubbling to the surface, Mike crossed his arms in front of his chest, deciding on the best approach.
"It said in your file that you are an ordained Minister, Mister Johnson? Excuse me for asking, as I am not too familiar with the church…but does that mean you have your own congregation?"
Johnson nodded glibly, an overconfident smile flashing across his face.
"That's correct Lieutenant. I have been running the Messenger Church of Jesus of Nazareth on 32nd street for the last twenty-five years. You are welcome to join us. Our service starts at 9am each Sunday. My wife is a wonderful organ player."
Mike bit the inside of his lip, before forcing another ulcer inducing smile.
"Thank you very much for the offer, Mister Johnson. We're typically working here on Sundays. As they say on TV, crime never sleeps.", opening the file, Mike read through some of the coroner's descriptions of Mavis' injuries again, as his vivid mind envisioned the man across from him causing them. "Say, where is your daughter at the moment? Her name is…Mavis. Is that right?"
Johnson shifted uncomfortably, before leaning forward on his elbows again. His cold dark eyes stared at Mike intently.
"Mavis is in Kenya. We have an exchange partnership going on with a village there."
There'd been very few times in his twenty-three-year long career with the police, where Mike had come across a liar as good as Harry Johnson. Most people that lied frequently ended up tripping during an interrogation, but there were a select few that had become so good at it that they even believed their own lies.
"So, are you hosting another exchange student from Kenya while Mavis is gone? And how does Mavis stay in contact with you during that time? When is she due back?"
Mike had hoped that his questions would cause Johnson to dig himself deeper into a corner, but instead, the African American man clammed up and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Pardon me for asking this Lieutenant, but why was my wife and I brought into the San Francisco Police Department at seven in the morning on a busy Tuesday just to discuss exchange student programs? Would you mind getting to the point? I am a busy man and my congregation needs me."
"Oh, I am sure they do.", Mike schmoozed and fumbled with the black reading glasses on the small table, "You will have to excuse us, but we must ask a lot of questions for a thorough investigation."
"Investigation into what?"
There was a slightly increased pitch in Johnson's voice that wasn't lost on the Lieutenant. It was finally time to start playing.
"You are right, Mister Johnson. It's time to cut to the chase here."
Mikes voice had lost all of its cheery tone, as the Lieutenant stood up from the chair and put his hands on his sides.
"We know that Mavis never left for Kenya. She ran away from home a couple of months ago after she found out she was pregnant. We also know that you used to beat her. You are doing a fine job convincing the entire neighborhood what an upstanding citizen you are, but the things going on behind closed doors speak of a much different story. We brought you in because we found your daughter murdered a few days ago. And right now, you are my prime murder suspect."
Johnson stood up as well, his face quickly turning crimson with anger. Breathing through a few attempted choice words, he straightened his back as if the additional height would give him more authority.
"I want to speak to your supervisor, Lieutenant. Your insults are beyond ridiculous."
Reaching for the small black phone on the nearby file cabinet, Mike symbolically placed it in front of his suspect.
"Go ahead. I can give you his extension. But he'll tell you the exact same thing I am telling you right now."
Johnson shook his head in frustration and mumbled something Mike was too far away to hear. Finally, the tall man looked back up and pointed at the interrogation room next door.
"Listen Lieutenant, Mavis was a difficult child. Even with homeschooling, she had trouble dealing with challenges in life and making the right decisions. Doloris has been on medication for high blood pressure for a few years, that's how much this whole situation has worn on her. When Mavis disappeared a couple of months ago, I figured she'd run away with her white boyfriend. And honestly, I felt like it would be a good break for all of us. The endless fights every single day were tearing apart our family. And not just ours, but my church too. How can I preach about things like peace and love and family with this going on at home?"
"I was wondering the exact same thing.", Mike said irritably and leaned against the file cabinet, "And there was something else I was wondering. How can a man who supposedly dedicated his life to the church and everything it stands for…beat his own child?"
Johnson drew in a deep breath and stepped closer, as if to appear more threatening.
"I don't know what you are getting at, Lieutenant. I never beat my daughter. I may have backhanded her once when she got smart, but I never laid a hand on her after that."
"Maybe not a hand, but what about a belt?"
Mike knew he was getting close to making the man blow up. It would put him exactly where he wanted him to be.
"I can't believe my hard-earned tax money pays for these pointless accusations.", Johnson growled and approached Mike until their faces were only a few inches apart, "Let me ask you this, Lieutenant. Do you have a daughter? How would you feel like if somebody told you what you just told me?"
Smiling confidently, Mike's stern blue eyes pierced right through Johnson.
"As a matter of fact, I do, Mister Johnson. And if somebody just told me that my daughter had been found murdered, I would be beside myself. Crying, yelling maybe…out of my mind. But I most certainly wouldn't be busy coming up with cover up stories for what went wrong…which leads me to believe that you already knew Mavis is dead. So now I want to find out how? Because there's only a handful of police officers in this town that work this case, and the only other person knowing that she is dead would have to be her killer."
Maintaining stern eye contact, Johnson swallowed hard before pursing his lips.
"I want to talk to a lawyer before I say any more to you, Lieutenant."