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Llewellyn’s wrists were cuffed to the side of an old kitchen chair, in a dim room. It’s obviously below street level, the only light filtering in from a small grate in the side of the building. The man who just finished locking the cuffs is standing before him, and clearly not interested in anything the detective had to say. He spoke anyway though, Llewellyn has always been good at that, rambling on a train of thought whether others want to hear it or not.
Anything to give himself a moment to see if he could find a way out of this mess, and a small naive bit of desperate hope that his words might get through to the man. “Detectives shouldn’t live or die by their conviction rate— every one of us has had a few criminals slip through our fingers.”
The man smiled at him, it’s an unsettling thing as he responded in almost a bragging tone. “Not me. Not ever.” Huffing in some amusement, Detective Strong turned away to walk across the small room. Llewellyn’s eyes darted quickly away from him to do a silent search of the room, hoping something might stick out. Something he could use to his advantage... Provided that he could even get out of the cuffs.
“I’ll admit that this has gotten a little out of hand. First Mr. Burnham, then his wife.” He turned around, raising his head to look down his nose at Llewellyn. It was a look that he’d seen several times before in his life already, it was a look that meant: ‘you’re a problem that needs a solution.’
The feeling was only confirmed when Strong spoke up quietly, “Now you.”
“You’re going to murder a fellow officer of the law?” Llewellyn’s tone is incredulous, betraying a growing fear. It wasn’t that unbelievable really, he’d seen it happen before after all. Very recently... Strong only stooped forward towards him, responding in a low tone. “I was trying to do the right thing. Why couldn’t you have just... left this sorry business alone?
His eyes cast down away from the man, because Llewellyn knew very well why. Strong was delusional if he thought hew as doing the ‘right thing.’ He was trying to frame an innocent woman for murder, all for the sake of covering his mistakes and his precious case resolution rate. Detective Strong would have gotten away with it already if his friend and colleague Jackson hadn’t put the pieces together before hand. Well... Jackson was dead and gone. And here was Llewellyn, locked to a chair. So it stood to reason that he would indeed get away with this.
Still, he had to try. Had to keep talking, to keep him distracted from the end game. “You framed Gloria Burnham for the murder of her husband... You needed someone to take the fall.”
Strong barely blinked, staring down Llewellyn lightly. It wasn’t like it was hard to frame Mrs. Burnham. “Her finger marks were on the weapon.” That confident, bragging tone was back. It was as infuriating as it was frightening.
“But she didn’t do it— You did!” He blurted out, only to be cut off.
“Perhaps I did, but I had no choice. I wont pay a blackmailer.”
The pieces kept falling together, lining up neatly as Llewellyn kept talking. Kept prolonging the inevitable, still desperate for some sort of opening to get out of this and put an end to it. To make sure another innocent person didn’t die... “Leslie Burnham knew that it was you who framed Mr. Stollard—! And he knew that because he was the one who committed the murder.” The words are just tumbling out of his mouth now, almost as if on a pre-recorded feed.
Strong’s smile turns mocking, like he’s amused by the other man. “Aren’t you a clever detective?”
Llewellyn looked away, because he can’t stand the sight of the man in front of him. A tremor rattled through his voice as he continued. “You let an innocent man hang, you murdered a guilty one and now you’re out to frame Mrs. Burnham?” Glaring openly through the fear, he pursed his lips in disgust. “Where does it end?!”
Detective Strong’s expression turned dark, drawing a gun and pointing it at Llewellyn’s head, causing him to lean back as though he could somehow put enough distance between himself and a bullet. “Right here.” It was the same gun as Burnham’s... Strong would add his murder onto the pile, just to strengthen the case against Mrs. Burnham. That poor woman would hang for two murders she didn’t commit.
Strong pulled back the hammer and...
Paused...?
The man just stared Llewellyn down, as though he were drawing it out. It didn’t make sense, this had come to the end, he was out of ideas to get out of it and there was nothing left that he could say! Strong didn’t even appear to be hesitating, was he waiting? And yet... Somehow this was worse than a quick end. Dragging it all out like this, it felt like he was toying with him. It was almost torture, and Llewellyn had more than enough of that over the course of his life already.
Taking an unsteady breath, Llewellyn couldn’t help but anxiously blurt out, “We both know you have to kill me! What are you waiting for!?”
And then... Strong pulled out his pocket watch, casually checked the time, and clicked his tongue as he tucked the watch back in his pocket. A train could be heard pulling up the tracks, horn sounding off it’s warning.
Oh... That. The perfect way to cover the sound of gunfire.
“Right on time.”
Taking a breath, Llewellyn could see the man’s finger tightening on the trigger and desperately pulled himself to the side, throwing all his weight into trying to topple the chair as the sound of gunfire went off.
Anything to give himself a moment to see if he could find a way out of this mess, and a small naive bit of desperate hope that his words might get through to the man. “Detectives shouldn’t live or die by their conviction rate— every one of us has had a few criminals slip through our fingers.”
The man smiled at him, it’s an unsettling thing as he responded in almost a bragging tone. “Not me. Not ever.” Huffing in some amusement, Detective Strong turned away to walk across the small room. Llewellyn’s eyes darted quickly away from him to do a silent search of the room, hoping something might stick out. Something he could use to his advantage... Provided that he could even get out of the cuffs.
“I’ll admit that this has gotten a little out of hand. First Mr. Burnham, then his wife.” He turned around, raising his head to look down his nose at Llewellyn. It was a look that he’d seen several times before in his life already, it was a look that meant: ‘you’re a problem that needs a solution.’
The feeling was only confirmed when Strong spoke up quietly, “Now you.”
“You’re going to murder a fellow officer of the law?” Llewellyn’s tone is incredulous, betraying a growing fear. It wasn’t that unbelievable really, he’d seen it happen before after all. Very recently... Strong only stooped forward towards him, responding in a low tone. “I was trying to do the right thing. Why couldn’t you have just... left this sorry business alone?
His eyes cast down away from the man, because Llewellyn knew very well why. Strong was delusional if he thought hew as doing the ‘right thing.’ He was trying to frame an innocent woman for murder, all for the sake of covering his mistakes and his precious case resolution rate. Detective Strong would have gotten away with it already if his friend and colleague Jackson hadn’t put the pieces together before hand. Well... Jackson was dead and gone. And here was Llewellyn, locked to a chair. So it stood to reason that he would indeed get away with this.
Still, he had to try. Had to keep talking, to keep him distracted from the end game. “You framed Gloria Burnham for the murder of her husband... You needed someone to take the fall.”
Strong barely blinked, staring down Llewellyn lightly. It wasn’t like it was hard to frame Mrs. Burnham. “Her finger marks were on the weapon.” That confident, bragging tone was back. It was as infuriating as it was frightening.
“But she didn’t do it— You did!” He blurted out, only to be cut off.
“Perhaps I did, but I had no choice. I wont pay a blackmailer.”
The pieces kept falling together, lining up neatly as Llewellyn kept talking. Kept prolonging the inevitable, still desperate for some sort of opening to get out of this and put an end to it. To make sure another innocent person didn’t die... “Leslie Burnham knew that it was you who framed Mr. Stollard—! And he knew that because he was the one who committed the murder.” The words are just tumbling out of his mouth now, almost as if on a pre-recorded feed.
Strong’s smile turns mocking, like he’s amused by the other man. “Aren’t you a clever detective?”
Llewellyn looked away, because he can’t stand the sight of the man in front of him. A tremor rattled through his voice as he continued. “You let an innocent man hang, you murdered a guilty one and now you’re out to frame Mrs. Burnham?” Glaring openly through the fear, he pursed his lips in disgust. “Where does it end?!”
Detective Strong’s expression turned dark, drawing a gun and pointing it at Llewellyn’s head, causing him to lean back as though he could somehow put enough distance between himself and a bullet. “Right here.” It was the same gun as Burnham’s... Strong would add his murder onto the pile, just to strengthen the case against Mrs. Burnham. That poor woman would hang for two murders she didn’t commit.
Strong pulled back the hammer and...
Paused...?
The man just stared Llewellyn down, as though he were drawing it out. It didn’t make sense, this had come to the end, he was out of ideas to get out of it and there was nothing left that he could say! Strong didn’t even appear to be hesitating, was he waiting? And yet... Somehow this was worse than a quick end. Dragging it all out like this, it felt like he was toying with him. It was almost torture, and Llewellyn had more than enough of that over the course of his life already.
Taking an unsteady breath, Llewellyn couldn’t help but anxiously blurt out, “We both know you have to kill me! What are you waiting for!?”
And then... Strong pulled out his pocket watch, casually checked the time, and clicked his tongue as he tucked the watch back in his pocket. A train could be heard pulling up the tracks, horn sounding off it’s warning.
Oh... That. The perfect way to cover the sound of gunfire.
“Right on time.”
Taking a breath, Llewellyn could see the man’s finger tightening on the trigger and desperately pulled himself to the side, throwing all his weight into trying to topple the chair as the sound of gunfire went off.
