The Emerald Lie

Superintendent Clancy had gathered the murder squad. He was caught between the prospects of landing a huge coup and a massive fuckup. He peered at the anxious faces of the Guards and detectives assembled, began,

“We stand on the precipice of a great success.”

Paused.

He did like his drama.

Then,

“Or a horrendous clusterfuck.”

He picked out Ridge’s face, said,

“Park, the suspect, has called for a lawyer and we know what that means.”

Did he expect an answer?

A guy at the back ventured,

“We have to beat the shite out of him now.”

Clancy nearly smiled then reined in, barked,

“That is not how we do things.”

Murmurs.

“Tear his house apart, bring me something that says this is the fellah.”

Ridge tried,

“We already have lots of suspicious items but nothing that is definite. He did have an inordinate amount of dictionaries.”

A moment as the crowd wondered if this was a joke.

Nope.

She continued,

“The suspect seems to be disoriented. We think he administered a DIY version of ECT.”

Clancy took a moment to figure this, then,

“You mean he shocked the be-Jaysus out of his own self?”

He was interrupted by a young Guard who said,

“He’s lawyered up.”

Said it just like in the movies. Clancy said,

“Fuck.”

He snapped at the young guy,

“Is he a Prod?”

The guy did know he meant Protestant but wasn’t altogether sure what one looked like. He’d grown up in the years such nonsense didn’t rate, he tried,

“Should I ask him, sir?”

Clancy raised his eyes to heaven, muttered,

“Give me fucking patience.”

Then to Ridge,

“Get me evidence. We’ll stall this shithead as long as we can.”

The lawyer, named Pearson, knew he had a headline case and had alerted the press, and put on his Mason’s tie for the doorstep lecture he’d deliver. If he handled it the right way, he’d get a book out of this and use that to claim an artist’s tax exemption. It was win-win. Clancy came out of his office, all fuss and blunder, said,

“Be just a moment while your client is having a wee cup of tea.”

Pearson smiled, said,

“Well, Superintendent, it’s like this: you can opt for the small fiasco or go large when I add police brutality to the sheet.”

Clancy looked as though he might wallop him, then asked,

“I know you?”

Pearson gave a well-fed, well-rehearsed chuckle, then,

“Not yet but by Christ you will.”

Clancy thought,

“Yeah, a Prod.”