Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📕

like the ashtray on the table. He sat me down in a hard, blue chair and stood behind me with his arms folded. I eyed him in the mirrored glass in front of me. After a couple of minutes, two men came in dressed in brown suits. They both smoked. I lowered my head and focused on the scabs that had formed on my knuckles.

‘This is Detectives Lightman and Green. They’re going to ask you some questions, John-Michael,’ said PC Williams.

The detectives sat down. One of them scraped the ashtray towards them, then blew his cigarette smoke in my direction.

‘I’m Detective Green,’ the man said. ‘Do you smoke?’

I shook my head. I’d never smoked, but I could certainly do with a big glug of my grandad’s best whiskey right now.

‘We’d like to ask you a few questions,’ said the other man, Detective Lightman.

Their two pairs of eyes stared at me intently, like I was a horrible murderer and should be sent to prison for the rest of my life. I kept my head tucked into my neck as a way of avoiding their burning stares.

‘Do you know why you’re here today?’ asked Detective Green.

I nodded, then shook my head. I did know, but also, I didn’t. None of this was my fault.

‘Your boss Mr Phillips was found dead this morning by you and PC Williams. You better tell us everything you know about it, and don’t leave anything out.’ He raised his voice at the end.

I kept my eyes on my hands. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Tell us what you did,’ coaxed Detective Lightman.

I took a steady breath and focused to make sure my words came out in the right order. ‘I didn’t do anything to him,’ I told them. ‘It wasn’t me,’ I reiterated.

‘Do you know who did?’ he asked.

‘No. Yes, I mean—’

‘Which is it?’ interrupted Detective Green. ‘It’s a simple enough question, John.’ He lit another cigarette and sucked it deeply.

‘It’s John-Michael,’ I said.

‘Fine, John-Michael, I’ll ask again. Do you know who killed Mr Phillips?’

I nodded my head.

Detective Green slammed his hand on the table, making me jump. ‘Who?!’

‘I’m scared,’ I said. ‘He said he’d snap my neck.’

The other detective spoke now. ‘We know you’ve had some umm… difficulties, but you’re going to have to start telling us something, John-Michael.’

This time, I slammed my hand on the table. ‘I’m not a retard!’ I said.

‘Hey now, easy, lad. No one’s calling anyone any names here. We just want to know what happened to Mr Phillips. You’re going to have to give us some answers soon, or we may as well have PC Williams put you back in holding until you can tell us.’

‘No need for that, is there?’ asked PC Williams from the back of the room. ‘He said he didn’t do it, and he’s obviously scared. Give him a minute to tell you.’

‘No.’ I shook my head, closing my hands into fists. ‘I don’t want to go back in there. I want to go home.’

‘Right. Well, if you want to go home, you’re going to have to start sharing a bit of information. You better tell us the whole truth and not a Jackanory,’ said Green.

‘Okay, I know who did it. I know who hurt Mr Phillips,’ I said, finally lifting my head for the first time in the interview. I looked over their heads at PC Williams’s reflection. His eyes widened as he finally looked in my direction. The atmosphere in the room shifted as they all waited for my answer.

‘The Suit did it,’ I told them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Detective Green broke it: ‘Who is The Suit?’

‘I don’t know, but that’s the nickname I gave him. Mr Phillips asked me to go to the bakery to get some lemon curds and tarts for dinner, but when I got back to the shop, I found The Suit bent over Mr Phillips. Then he saw me and pinned me up against the wall and called me names. Said he’d snap my neck. Then I blacked out, and when I woke up, he’d gone, and my hands were bruised and sore. But I didn’t touch Mr Phillips; he was my friend.’

The world began to blur as I was talking, but not because I was blacking out again. Hot tears burned my eyes and threatened to spill over.

The detectives mumbled between themselves.

‘Do you know what he wanted?’ Green asked.

‘He was… looking for something,’ I said.

‘Looking for what?’

I shrugged and shook my head. I couldn’t tell them about the guns. I got the distinct impression from Mr Phillips that he wouldn’t want me to. I had to do right by him, and not telling them seemed right.

‘Okay… Tell us more about this “Suit” character,’ Green said.

I nodded. ‘I first saw him last week when PC Williams took me home, then when Daniel died—’

‘Daniel?’ he interrupted.

‘Young lad who got knocked off his scooter in that terrible accident last week,’ PC Williams clarified from behind me.

‘Oh right, yeah, carry on,’ Green said.

‘He was right there outside Claude’s Antiques. He’d been outside watching for days. He was even there this morning. People must have seen him. He’s been all over town.’

‘Did you see anyone out of the ordinary this morning?’ Green directed the question over my head to PC Williams.

‘No one I didn’t recognise,’ the constable replied.

‘You’ve got to find him. He doesn’t belong here!’ I said.

‘What do you mean he doesn’t belong here?’

‘The way he dresses. He can’t be a proper Yorkshire man,’ I told them.

The three men chuckled, which startled me. How could they laugh at a time like this?

‘Oh, aye. What’s a proper Yorkshire man, then, when he’s at home?’

I frowned at Green’s jovial tone. ‘Like you two or my grandad,’ I said. ‘He was different, not from round here. He was tanned with the same colour hair as me, but cut different and black eyes—not brown, black. He had a really nice suit on. Tailormade, blue like a shark. Three buttons down the front. The bottom