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Talk to the Chair (Story in description)
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“You've heard of good cop, bad cop?” Kryst stood at the foot of the hospital bed, glowering at the frail looking woman tangled to it by masses of wires and fluid tethers and who knows what else. “Well right now I'm the good cop. You remember the good cop, right? The one who saved you from certain death two days ago? Because of that, I think it's fair to say that you owe me.”
The woman stared blandly at him. Her eyes had been blue when Kryst first met her, but as he had guessed it had been an artificial color that came attached to the contact lenses that had been removed when she went into surgery. Now her eyes were an angry hazel.
He strolled to the bedside. “You don't want to talk to me? Okay, let me talk for you. Your name is Amy Steinwick, you're a secretary at Vineland Packing and you moved to Brackton two years ago. You're allergic to penicillin and your cat Puffy is really pissed off at you right now because you haven't been home to feed him in two days.” He smiled, “Close?”
She frowned, and one of the machines nearby gurgled as it siphoned some fluid into or out of her. It was hard to tell which.
“I thought you might be someone important, turns out you file things and try to keep your boss from staring at your backside while you take dictation.” Kryst held up a finger. “But something had you scared, and whatever it was decided it was worth killing you over. So, you can either talk to me, or you get to meet bad cop.”
The woman exhaled and looked away.
“Have it your way.” He shrugged and moved to the door. “Witness isn't playing ball, Joe. I don't see why we should bother with protection if she's useless. And we can probably get those charges rolling for endangering a police officer...”
He heard her mutter something and thrash in her bed. Kryst ignored it, sometimes the best information was given when people begged you to take it. “And we should probably contact her employer and tell them what's going on. Maybe they can tell us a few things too.”
“....detective....”
Kryst paused but didn't turn around. “Miss Steinwick? Please remember your rights.”
The woman hissed back at him like a snake. The noise was probably accidental but it unsettled Kryst anyway.
He leaned against the doorway. “In some cultures that's an insult, Miss Steinwick. Now if that's all you have to say to me, I need to go get a key from your landlord and make sure Puffy isn't starving to death.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” her voice was a wet rasp. “But people pretend I'm not there. I heard them. I didn't hear everything... but I heard enough.”
Kryst turned around and closed the door. He gave a quick nod to the returning officer who had taken Kryst's presence as an opportunity to step away and top off his coffee.
It's amazing what people are willing to tell you with a guilty conscience and some orders given to an empty chair.
Copic marker and gelpen on canvasboard.
“You've heard of good cop, bad cop?” Kryst stood at the foot of the hospital bed, glowering at the frail looking woman tangled to it by masses of wires and fluid tethers and who knows what else. “Well right now I'm the good cop. You remember the good cop, right? The one who saved you from certain death two days ago? Because of that, I think it's fair to say that you owe me.”
The woman stared blandly at him. Her eyes had been blue when Kryst first met her, but as he had guessed it had been an artificial color that came attached to the contact lenses that had been removed when she went into surgery. Now her eyes were an angry hazel.
He strolled to the bedside. “You don't want to talk to me? Okay, let me talk for you. Your name is Amy Steinwick, you're a secretary at Vineland Packing and you moved to Brackton two years ago. You're allergic to penicillin and your cat Puffy is really pissed off at you right now because you haven't been home to feed him in two days.” He smiled, “Close?”
She frowned, and one of the machines nearby gurgled as it siphoned some fluid into or out of her. It was hard to tell which.
“I thought you might be someone important, turns out you file things and try to keep your boss from staring at your backside while you take dictation.” Kryst held up a finger. “But something had you scared, and whatever it was decided it was worth killing you over. So, you can either talk to me, or you get to meet bad cop.”
The woman exhaled and looked away.
“Have it your way.” He shrugged and moved to the door. “Witness isn't playing ball, Joe. I don't see why we should bother with protection if she's useless. And we can probably get those charges rolling for endangering a police officer...”
He heard her mutter something and thrash in her bed. Kryst ignored it, sometimes the best information was given when people begged you to take it. “And we should probably contact her employer and tell them what's going on. Maybe they can tell us a few things too.”
“....detective....”
Kryst paused but didn't turn around. “Miss Steinwick? Please remember your rights.”
The woman hissed back at him like a snake. The noise was probably accidental but it unsettled Kryst anyway.
He leaned against the doorway. “In some cultures that's an insult, Miss Steinwick. Now if that's all you have to say to me, I need to go get a key from your landlord and make sure Puffy isn't starving to death.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” her voice was a wet rasp. “But people pretend I'm not there. I heard them. I didn't hear everything... but I heard enough.”
Kryst turned around and closed the door. He gave a quick nod to the returning officer who had taken Kryst's presence as an opportunity to step away and top off his coffee.
It's amazing what people are willing to tell you with a guilty conscience and some orders given to an empty chair.
Copic marker and gelpen on canvasboard.
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 762 x 500px
File Size 403.3 kB
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