Their timing couldn't have been better, Mike mused, after talking some more with Doyle, finding out that there was a court date set for Francis Thompson, aka Luigi, later this week. It would allow him to do both, put some additional pressure on the troubled young man and wave the possibility of dismissal for the petty drug charge in his face, if he were to give them the information needed to close their murder case.
"What is this?", the scruffy looking man in his early twenties hissed, his cuffed hands resting on the small table of the makeshift interview room downstairs, "I get busted on one charge and all of a sudden everybody wants a piece of me?"
"Life's rough, isn't it?", Mike countered dismissively and smiled, "That's why we try to make it as easy as possible in homicide. You give us the answers to our questions, and we may talk to your friend Doyle and the DA's office to see if we can get your drug charges dismissed. Pretty simple, isn't it?"
Much of Thompson's black hair covered his forehead, nearly hiding the deep frown forming on his face.
"Homicide? What are you talking about? I wasn't part of a murder!"
"When was the last time you saw Sarah Roberts?", Steve shot back, crossing the length of the interrogation room to lean over the desk, his face only inches away from Thompson's.
"Sarah, you say? She's …she's dead?"
"Mhm hm."
With his green eyes never losing their intense focus, Mike watched his partner stay rigidly still, not moving a single muscle, ready to pounce on Thompson like a cat going after a mouse.
Much to the Lieutenant's surprise, the young man began to tremble slightly, as a single tear rolled down his cheek before disappearing beneath his accentuated jawline.
"She was a beautiful human being…", he stuttered before his voice broke, "She didn't deserve to get murdered. When…when did this happen?"
"Monday. Broad daylight.", Mike explained vaguely, not willing to give away pertinent information about the conditions surrounding the young woman's violent and untimely death.
"Who could have had a reason to kill her?", Steve pried, before their suspect could say anything else, the veins on the side of his neck beginning to show with the increased intensity of their interview.
"Look. I…I don't know, man. She was kind…and beautiful, inside and out. She had no enemies."
"Everybody has enemies."
The young Inspector's voice was beginning to sound like a mere growl, raising Mike's warning flags when it came to misplaced emotions.
Stepping forward, close enough to intercept if needed, the Lieutenant cleared his throat, causing both men to look up at him fleetingly.
"Let me ask you again, who could have had a reason to kill her? Because somebody obviously did."
Nervously glancing back and forth between both detectives, Thompson fell quiet for many long moments, a wave of grief and disbelief flooding his features. Beneath the dark blue jumpsuit, Mike could see his chest heave, jaws clenched, his scarred face turning to stone.
"It had to have been somebody from the camp."
"The camp?", Mike repeated incredulously, exchanging a knowing glance with his partner, "What type of camp?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"It's a get together for people who…who want to learn to live deeper, be more aware of their surroundings, reach a higher plane of existence, if you want to call it that way."
"Get high on drugs in a group setting is what we'd be calling that.", Steve mocked, earning himself a warning glare from his partner and a grunt from their suspect.
"You know, pretty boy, a stick of grass would do you some good from time to time. Helps with the anxiety and anger issues you are obviously suffering from."
Mike foresaw the ensuing reaction before Steve could even move a muscle. Stepping forward, he symbolically wrapped a strong hand around his partner's elbow, pulling him away from the desk and into a corner. With one last wordless glare, he positioned himself between the young Inspector and their suspect.
Knowing better than to defy his order, he heard Steve draw in a deep breath from behind, then falling quiet altogether.
"It's so much more than drugs…", Thompson argued defensively and shook his head, "There's music…drums…for people to play. You don't have to know how to play them, just sit down and let your soul make the music. Some people dance, others write, or draw. It's about liberation of the soul, to free ourselves from the boundaries society has imposed upon us. it's about releasing the restraints that hold us back from fulfilling our true purpose in life."
"I think I'm gonna be sick…", Steve mumbled angrily in the back corner and turned around to face the wall, steaming about whatever was bothering him when it came to Thompson.
Ignoring the remark altogether, Mike smiled cordially, a gesture returned by their suspect.
"Okay. I can accept that. Now, you have to admit, in a place where everybody comes together to free their…their soul, as you say…what makes you think that Sarah may have met her killer there?"
"Because Sarah was light…pure, innocent, bright light…", Thompson whispered enigmatically, as another tear rolled down his cheek, "And like everything in nature, the brightest of lights always attracts the most dangerous of darkness."
