-REC IR065-

4 DAYS FOLLOWING THE INCIDENT

The interviewer lets his fingers slip from the door's cold, metal handle, slightly unnerved as that half-ton block of tinted glass slowly hinges shut behind him. There's no satisfying click; he can't get over that. Or maybe he's just a Luddite. Little let-downs like this can't be helped, however, as surprise will give him the advantage here. Actually, this situation is no different from the others, but this new witness supposedly saw the incident unfolding. So he takes the advantage, and remains at the door to make a few initial observations. The interviewee sits at the end of the table farthest from the door. Weird, as in his experience, almost everybody in her position likes to sit by the door. He thinks it gives them a sense of comfort, of being able to escape when they want to. Anyway, she's a new model of thinking to him. He's seen all he needs of her appearance. Fake nails covering likely poorly maintained ones. Bit of a rash on her eyelids. comfortable clothing, same Bowlers jacket as most of her female colleagues. Mottled cherry-coloured sunburn on her neck and collarbone. Peel it off.

When he walks into her view, he knows that it is his turn to be observed, and accordingly gives off the right signals. I'm on your side, his crooked smile says. Average old Joe, seen this all before, says the assured way he plonks himself into his seat. I'm like you, from the everyman corduroy trousers and bland sweater combo.

"Hi," he begins, sliding his case under his chair. "You must be Mrs. Galbraith. Nice to meet you." Out slips today's cream-coloured folder, caught halfway between the rugged jaws (his little joke; the case reminds him of a dog) of his case and his hand. "I'll be your interviewer today."

She smiles faintly and nods, the motion creating a dimple in the collar of her jacket. Weird, but he can't explain why. Behind them, in the control room, a tech operator slowly turns up the lights above her.

He leans back, places the folder on the table in front of him and smiles, wider. "Okay, if you're up to it, let's begin."

With a muffled beep, the TV flickers to life. The interviewer barely looks at the gray expanse on the screen, instead jabbing at a series of buttons on his remote, then a single button, over and over. Channel after channel of grey goes past, then a brief flash of the afternoon news. The interviewer stops at a still of two people, a man and a woman, seated across from each other at a table. He plays the footage.

The woman places her clasped hands on the table, and leans forward marginally. 'We think it was around 9:05-'

"AM?" asks the first analyst, to which the interviewer replies with a nod. He rewinds the tape to make up for the two seconds they missed. The first analyst's eyebrow twitches upward.

'-when the doctor arrived. Everything was...it was totally chaotic when he walked in. Usually is, around that time. But it was really all over the place that day.' She frowns slightly. [Interviewer: Could you tell us why it was chaotic that day?] Her frown deepens. 'Coffee machine was broken in the main cafeteria. Boiling liquid all over the floors.' She cringes. [Interviewer: Okay, now security footage shows that you weren't there when the doctor walked in.] 'Yeah, I was there before he was. I knew it was him, though. His car's very loud.' [Interviewer: Whereabouts were you when all this was happening?] 'The supply closet, getting a mop f-'

Analyst 2 raises her hand. She's an old hand at this, so the interviewer pushes the pause button for her. "Why did the interviewee go to the supply closet?" comes her query. Eyes narrowed, she quickly silences the assumptions of 'to get cleaning supplies' from her partner. "The janitorial department should have sent one of their own to deal with the spill."

The detective raises his hand, then pipes up anyway, "It wasn't her job to clean that mess, so...y'know...what happened to the people whose...um...whose job it was to...er...clean, the...the janitorial team?"

The interviewer smiles, and with a patient 'we'll get to that now', he skips ahead to the answer. Snatches of interviewer's and interviewee's voices can be heard as he checks the tape's position. He plays the tape in the middle of a chorus of laughter.

*laughter* [Interviewer: So, why were you the one getting the mop and not, say, Maurice?] 'Maurice? He wasn't there.' She makes a spreading motion with her hand. 'Like I said, it was chaos, the doctor tried to get him-' [Interviewer: The doctor tried to 'get him'? How, on the 'phone, or did he look for him?] 'He went out into the hallways to look for him.' [Interviewer: The doctor try to ring him before going out?] Her frown returns. 'Yeah, but Maurice didn't pick up. He usually does though.' [Interviewer: And when was the last time you saw Maurice?] 'He's a janitor. I don't really pay much attention to Maurice, you know.'

The interviewer pauses the tape. Mrs. Galbraith's face is frozen in the split second where her eyes dart downwards, to her left.

"She's lying," observes the first analyst.

The interviewer laces his fingers together, tipping the resulting 'X' structure towards the folder in front of him. "Was lying, much earlier on in the interview. She knows what's going on with Maurice." He stares penetratingly at the folder. "I knew she was weird."