Race With a Heart
Chapter 157: Why this City?

Chapter 157: Why this City?

In the interrogation room, facing the Venetian mirror, there was a young man who gave the impression that his youth was regularly passing away with each dose of the hard drug he took.

His hair was too long and messy and dirty, as if they hadn’t seen a comb or water for at least a week. His clothes also clearly showed that this man was not doing very well lately. If Kevin Moore walked into the interrogation room now, he would surely smell the characteristic smell of people living on the street.

Tommy Mitchel, twenty-five. Punished for petty thefts. He was charged for theft at the drugstore," Sullivan was explaining. "He had a phone with him which it turned out belonged to Rita Evans. When the policeman who questioned him asked where he had get it from, Mitchel confessed to the murder of a striper. Then they sent him us. "

"Did he say what was his motive?" Kevin Moore asked, his eyes never leaving the man on the other side of the mirror.

"She made fun of him. He asked her for a change and she treated him like garbage. He couldn’t stand it, started beating her. Before he came to his senses, the girl was already dead. He stuffed her behind the garbage can to hide the body and stuffed her with bags. "

"Why didn’t he throw her in?" Moore asked.

"She was too heavy."

Rita Evans was not a big girl, but the arrested Tommy Mitchel looked genuinely devastated. Yes, in a fit of rage, he could beat a weak girl to death, but it was hard for him to pick up her corpse and shove it into the garbage container.

"What do you think about it?" Sullivan asked.

"Everything fits," Moore admitted. Something in his heart made him be careful about this.

"Are you not convinced?"

"Not yet," he admitted.

Lieutenant Sullivan gave a wry smile, a little mockingly.

"Is it because this guy doesn’t fit your conspiracy theory, that Don Alston is involved? Sometimes our theories collapse in the face of facts. "

"What I don’t like is timing," Moore explained. "After weeks of investigation, there is suddenly a suspect who suits us perfectly, right after Alston gets into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" asked Denning, who had not taken part in the conversation so far, only looking at the detained man awaiting questioning.

"Alston has attacked Paxton’s lover again," explained Kevin.

"You are oddly well-informed about the internal affairs of the Fergus Stables," noted Sullivan. "It doesn’t look like a coincidence to me."

"It’s not a coincidence," admitted Moore. "I have a good relationship with Jack Lambert and my father has just signed a contract with them. It’s not made public yet, but a new driver that I also know well, will be the face of our new line of coffee from Vietnam. So I have access to some internal information. Alston is facing disciplinary action and the Fergus Stable has already investigated Alston himself before. "

"Agreed, timing is in Alston’s favor," the lieutenant admitted. "But you are forgetting one thing. Despite weeks of investigation, we have found nothing to prove Alston as the culprit. Nothing, do you understand? Even a solid motive. If this boy," Sullivan pointed to Mitchel in the audition room," showed up a few days earlier, you’d argue that timing is perfect for Alston because the guy is about to appear in his first grand prix. Kevin, you are a good consultant, you have a really sharp mind, but maybe you are too close to the Fergus Stables to look at it objectively? Are you sure you are not prejudiced against Alston? "

Sullivan’s accusation hurt, but Moore couldn’t defend himself against him because, the hell, the lieutenant might have been right!

The work of a policeman should consist in collecting evidence and, on its basis, arresting a criminal. Against Alston, despite a long investigation, they found nothing. Maybe this boy was really innocent?

Kevin took a deep breath.

"Maybe you’re right," he admitted, feeling the taste of failure and shame in his mouth.

Lieutenant Sullivan put a benevolent hand on his shoulder.

"I’ve been working in this profession for almost thirty years. Believe me, more than once I was convinced of someone’s guilt or innocence, and it turned out to be the other way around. I still trust my intuition, and I trust yours as well, so I followed the path suggested by you, but sometimes there are situations when our intuition fails. Anyway ... you know that at any moment they would order us to close this case. All traces led nowhere."

Kevin looked at the young man in the interrogation room. He was certainly guilty of many things, but was he also guilty of murder?

Maybe yes, maybe he actually killed Rita.

"Why was he carrying Rita’s phone?" he asked suddenly. "Why didn’t he sell it to get money for drugs? He wasn’t using it, otherwise we would have traced his signal."

"He said it’s the only nice thing he has. He actually took it to sell but kept it as a keepsake," Sullivan explained.

"Keepsake?" Moore was surprised. "Random killers keep no souvenirs. They’re desperately trying to get rid of everything that ties them to the murder. "

"The professor is right, lieutenant," Kevin was supported by Paul Denning. "Only serial ones collect souvenirs."

Sullivan puffed out a curse in his mouth.

"And you, Brutus?" he turned to his younger colleague referring to the famous scene from Julius Caesar. "To hell with you scientists. If you want, put pressure on that Mitchel. But I’m giving you an hour. If you don’t get anything out of it during this time, I’ll give him to the prosecutor’s office. "

"Yes, sir!" Denning rejoiced and looked significantly at Moore. "So, professor, are we starting?"

***

It was probably Einstein who said something like that: only two things are limitless, human stupidity and the universe. Kevin Moore most endorsed this statement. He had a headache from the interrogations he and Denning had conducted. Mitchell was a blank wall. Every time Kevin hit it, all he heard was a dull rumble.

Nothing but stupid things could be taken out from this guy.

Oh no, the amendment. The stupidity was so ingrained in him that they didn’t get it out of him. It will stay there forever.

"I’m sorry," said Denning as their time was up. He really had a sad, sympathetic face. "It could really be him. He gives the impression of a sociopath. "

"Yes," Moore agreed in resignation. "Someone like that could keep some things of a victim. Not to relish the memory of the crime, but because he liked the thing."

"You are not convinced of it," remarked Denning.

"I’m not," admitted Kevin. "I think I belong to those people who think that the third accidental event is an enemy attack. But maybe Sullivan is right and I am prejudiced because of the close ties to the stable?"

"I also don’t believe in such coincidences, and I have no ties to the stable. There’s just too much of this Alston in matters where he shouldn’t be at all. "

Denning sighed and put on an expression that was familiar to Kevin for some reason. Denning reminded him of Jack. In fact, the young policeman resembled Lambert in many ways. Their eyes in particular were very similar - it wasn’t their position or shape, but that was too. Their expression was the most similar, which suggested that both men had faith in the other man.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Moore asked a little hesitantly. "Sorry, I don’t want to invade your privacy, but I’m very curious."

"Sure. Ask. "

"Why this city? Why did you move right here? Was it an order from above or did you choose this place yourself? "

"I chose it myself," Denning announced. He didn’t feel the question was too personal. "In fact, this city has always brought back pleasant memories for me. I don’t know if it’s memories of real events from my childhood or dreams, but this city has always been a place in my heart that attracted me. It seems to me that I spent the first years of my childhood here. "

"Really?" Kevin was really surprised.

"Yes. See, my parents adopted me from an orphanage when I was four. I was an abandoned child, so no one knows about my parents or where I was born. All I remembered about myself was that my name was Paul and that I’m four."

Kevin Moore felt as if he had been stunned. Could it be such a case?

"Have you come here to find your roots?" he asked, surprised that his voice was trembling.

"Not completely. I am more interested in finding out if my memories relate to reality or if I had a dream. Strange," Paul Denning laughed nervously," but for some reason I’m comfortable talking to you about it. I guess I got used to you by now. "

"So why don’t you tell me your whole story? How about a late lunch? "

"Great! I’m terribly hungry. "

"Then let’s go!"