Short Story Fiction - Inspector Pascal Mysteries 1000 #20

A new, classic-style fiction detective is solving crimes in only 1000 words, for all ages.
INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000   ©2016

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#20 An Imaginative Man, by T.K. Naliaka ©2016

     “Inspector Pascal, what makes you think I’m not telling the truth?”
     He looked up from his writing. “Why do you say that?”
     She pouted. “I can tell by your expression.”
     He turned the page on his notepad. “Nothing intended, Madame Droxford.”
     She dismissed this. “I’m not that easily fooled.  Your questions have been quite different from the other interrogations.”
     He raised an eyebrow, “How so?”
     She sat down, leaned back, crossed her legs and languidly pushed back the sleeves of her shirt. “That other fellow out there wanted to know where I was on the night of 2nd June.  Very inspector-like.  You asked me what was the first thought that entered my mind when I heard that Randolph had been murdered.”
     Pascal paused and raised his pen slightly. “Have you decided what it was, yet?”
     Her mouth curled slightly. “What’s the right answer; yes or no?”
     Pascal clicked his pen and slipped it into his pocket. “If only we could dispense with this case that easily.”
     She propped her elbows on the chair arms and gave him an up-from-under look. “What’s the issue you’re having that is keeping this case from being dispensed with?”
     Pascal considered her for a long moment before he replied, “A lack of truth and honesty.”
     She held his gaze. “Does that anguish you?”
     He shrugged. “All crimes, especially murder, are thickly obscured by deliberate lacks of truth and honesty, so frankly, we arrive with that expectation. Our job is to sort it out correctly - fact from fiction and fantasy.”
     She straightened. “Why did ‘fantasy’ come to your mind?”
     Pascal considered her oil paintings as he paced slowly past the fireplace.  He turned to her. “We have the crime of murder.  A man was killed on this property.  We don’t who did it or why. But it’s very important that we find the killer, first for justice for the victim, and second to protect society.  Once someone crosses that line to kill, it’s not very hard to cross it again.  It’s not any occasion to be playing games for attention.”
     She finally stood up and walked to stare out the tall wooden-paned windows. At last she spoke. “I hated Randolph.  When I heard he was dead, I thought, I’m free.” She turned to him with her mouth twisted bitterly. “Happy?”
     Pascal replied blandly. “I can appreciate that it must have been very hard for you to articulate that.”
     She scoffed. “Translation: I got her to confess.”
     Pascal leafed through his notes. “At the time of Randolph’s murder, you were at the theatre.”
     “I adore Shakespeare…” Her eyes widened “… and you?”
     He turned another page. “I’m having some difficulty pinpointing Gerard’s whereabouts at the same time, however.”
     She shrugged. “Gerard dropped me at the show.”
     “Dropped you?  He doesn’t fancy Shakespeare?”
     She smiled. “What sorts of things fancy you?”
     “Sir.”
     Pascal turned to the big, broad-shouldered uniformed policeman posted at the door, “Yes, Sergeant?”
     “A message for you, sir.”
     Pascal walked over to him, “Yes?”
     Braque leaned over and whispered. “This is excruciating.  What’s going on?”
     Pascal murmured back. “She’s flirting with me.”
     “That’s cringingly obvious.”
     “I’m letting her.”
     “That’s the excruciating part of it!  It’d be more appropriate if she was chasing you with an axe!”
     “But, there’s something rather odd about this.” Pascal frowned. “How’s Inspector Juneau doing with Gerard?”
     “They’re still inside the salon.”
     “Can you ask Sergeant Lu?”
      Braque peered out the half-opened door. “She just went inside.”
     “May I call you just… Pascal?”
     He turned to see her crossing the room to join him.  He replied. “If you’d like, but it strongly evokes being ordered by superiors."
     She blinked, but recovered. “What’s your first name?”
     “Inspector.”
     She frowned, but Braque seemed much happier.
     Pascal looked at Braque, then at her. “You know what?”
     She shook her head.
     “All I can think of is we’re wasting our time here with you.”
     She complained. “That’s not a very nice thing to think.”
     Pascal tapped his notepad in his palm. “But you know when I get a thought, it always leads to another thought, then another.”
     She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
    “We aren’t wasting our time – Inspector Juneau was tasked with interviewing Gerard and we were tasked with interviewing you, and that is what we’re doing.  So, could it be that you are wasting our time… here?”
     She laughed. “You are such an imaginative man!”
     Pascal pulled the door closed and gave a slight jerk of his head, “Sergeant.”
     Braque didn’t need more prompting.  Before she could react, she was already in handcuffs and firmly in his grip.
     She almost got out the first loud syllable of protest at the top of her lungs, but Pascal stuffed a wad of cotton kerchiefs in her opening mouth. “Shush!”
     She shook her head and tried to work them out “Mmm-mmm-mggg!”
     Pascal opened the door. “Sergeant – don’t let her get out or make a peep until I know what’s going on.”  He held up his phone.  A moment later, Braque’s phone rang. “You can monitor me over the open line.”
     Pascal left them, crossed the foyer, un-holstered his pistol, listened, then carefully eased open the salon door.  He took it all in at once. “Freeze!”
     Gerard was straddling the window sill, with one leg out and the other in. He raised his hands as if complying, then he threw himself back, outside.  Pascal ran to the window.  Eight feet below, Gerard rolled over, scrambled to his feet, then fell with a curse as his left ankle collapsed. 
     Pascal watched him fall and then get up to hop, then fall again. Pascal considered the expanse of open lawn, holstered his pistol and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Sergeant, she wasn’t wasting our time, she was occupying it.  Inspector Juneau and Sergeant Lu are out cold on the floor and Gerard is absconding out the back.”
     “I’ll get him, sir!”
     Pascal nodded appreciatively as Gerard fell again and began crawling. “He’s all yours!”
                                       by T.K. Naliaka ©2016, all rights reserved.