Detective Moylan closed the door to the interrogation room slowly, pushing it firmly to hear the click of the latch popping in place. The door had the annoying habit of opening if not closed firmly. Behind him his partner, Detective Dorothy, was staring at the criminal mastermind Jonathon Dorcas.
“We have you for the bank job in Smith field, the jewellery robbery in Roundwell, and the evidence is stacking up that you are responsible for the releasing of the animals from the city zoo. What we don’t know is why you would release these creatures into the city,” said Detective Dorothy , keeping eye contact with Dorcas, matching his uncaring gaze with her steely intent.
Detective Moylan, having secured the dodgy door, moved to stand behind Detective Dorothy’s chair, putting a hand on his partners shoulder.
“I think Dr.Dorcas here would benefit from telling us all about it, don’t you, Detective Dorothy? Don’t you think that by assisting our investigations that he might receive more lenient treatment when this case eventually makes it to the courts?” Detective Moylan wants to put the screw to Dorcas just as much as his partner, but must fulfil his role of good cop by offering Dorcas a way out. Regardless of what information Dorcas divulges he will be going away for a long time.
“What do you say, Dorcas, are you going to play ball?” said Detective Dorothy, leaning forward into the pool of light spread across the interrogation room’s chrome table.
Doctor Jonny Dorcas, leaning back on the uncomfortable chair, handcuffed and bruised from the rough treatment he has received since his capture, allowed a smile to spread across his face, the movement re-opening a cut on the side of his swollen lower lip.
“I did it for my son. For my Steven,” said Dorcas.
The detectives resisted moving or prompting the villain to speak further, an old interrogation trick. If you have your guy speaking, let him speak, criminals tend to reveal too much to the police.
Doctor Dorcas cleared his throat and said, “You see, my boy wanted to see the tennis, but tickets were sold out. I saw that there was no way to gain access to the tennis venue by criminal means, I could not risk disrupting the smooth running of the festival.” Dorcas, happy with having knowledge which the Detectives desired, retained an air of nonchalance, picking at a finger nail in a deliberate way, feigning concentration on the task, as though mandible care was of the utmost importance to him.
“I thought and thought about the problem for days”, Dorcas said, “I racked my considerable intelligence; how can I get my son to the tennis tournament? Eventually it came to me, I must kill ticket holders, thus freeing up their tickets for repurchase. Brilliant, I know.” At this revelation the two Detectives abandoned their interrogation technique. Detective Dorothy’s eyes widened and her jaw slackened, and, feeling her bladder weaken at the Doctor’s diabolical scheme, ran from the interrogation room, not bothering to close the door properly behind her. Detective Moylan moved forward and sat in the chair vacated by his departed partner.
“But… all the people killed… how could you know that they were ticket holders for the tennis tournament?” Detective Moylan asked, his hands gripping his shaking knees.
“I am Doctor Jonny Dorcas,” the Doctor replied, his voice rising, his chest swelling, “The things I know, the methods I employ, they are not to be questioned by such as thee!”
Detective Moylan shook his head in disbelief. “But all those dead, just for your son to see a tennis match?”
Dorcas, slightly tilted his head, squeezed his lips together, and softened his eyes.
“He’s really into tennis,” He said, his tone that of a mother explaining that his son had eaten too much chocolate and gotten sick. But Doctor Dorcas was explaining something much worse than that… he was explaining the reason for murder. Murder by zoological methods.