The night was long and interminable. Jeremiah remained silent by the fire while his wife and son were already sound asleep in their bed, exhausted from a hectic and interminable day. The next day he knew many truths would come to light, and he was filled with many thoughts and mysteries. The case had aroused considerable curiosity in him; he was certain that amidst the various statements, someone had lied, and many had come close to discovering the truth about the case. He sat on his brown two-seater sofa, dipped his lips in whiskey, and reawakened his thoughts in the imagination of the Empire's bar, where all the protagonists seemed to have participated in the play. They all seemed to accuse the same culprit, like in "Murder on the Orient Express," but then no one would lethal strike poor Jason, but undoubtedly the boy was, or wanted to, blackmail someone, in his opinion. He remained lost in thought for a long time until he looked at the newspaper Patricia had left on the coffee table. He began reading a bit here and there, until he came across the Jason C. case, headlined "West Village Murder." The article was vividly and meticulously written, so much so that he found details he hadn't noticed. The crime scene had been meticulously prepared because the man's body had been transported there by the blood trails the reporter had seen before the area was cordoned off. Some dumpsters had been overturned after the body had been placed there, creating such a mess that it delayed the recovery. At 1:10, he fell asleep on the couch, stretched out with a blanket half-covering him. His thoughts about the case were becoming more and more intense, but fatigue had already taken over; the whiskey did the rest.The first hint of dawn caught him off guard. He returned to his room, quickly undressed, and fell asleep, fully covered. Seven o'clock came in a flash, but he slept soundly. His wife's body was warm and desirable, but they remained embraced for about ten minutes, then he returned to the deepest sleep. At seven o'clock, the various alarms began to ring relentlessly. It was the most horrifying time of the day, but both knew what their priority was: waking up their firstborn. Within ten minutes, the three had gathered in the kitchen, hungry and sleepy. Scrambled eggs, bacon, coffee, and cereal filled their table. Showered and clean-shaven, Jeremiah was the last to sit across from his son. Any wish was a command, and the weekend was immediately directed to the playground a few kilometers from home. Forty minutes of travel and our detective was operational, the station was bustling with excitement and every persons made the environment loaded of energy and propositions.
Jeremiah takes his time to check for correspondance and mail, and after a while he was recalled from the inspector for starting the interviews. Various inspectors stayed outside of the room where the ex-soldier Boris stepped in silence sitted in a small chair,with his elbows resting on the table, his glasses shining and his expression a little sleepy.
The man jumped when the agents arrived and began to speak, half serious, half animated: "Oh, finally... I thought you were going to offer me a coffee... I've been waiting for at least half an hour and..." "Leave it to us." And one of them disappeared to retrieve some steaming cups of coffee, while the other shuffled the papers in the file, where the information was meticulously noted. The coffee was deliciously bitter, and the agents savored it effortlessly while the man tried to regain his formal posture. "Mr. Boris Barislow, you served in the Marines for 12 years, do you remember? Why did you leave the Marine Corps?" The old soldier's tone softened. "I left to join intelligence. This is classified information, and I would ask you not to make any entries in the records!" "Mr. Boris, this is not possible. Your every statement will be made in full. We are responsible for making every statement you make to the appropriate authorities." Boris lowered his head slightly and began again. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. Where do we want to start? From the night of the murder." Of course, Gaston spoke up. "Certainly, there were a lot of people at the Empire that night? Did you notice anything strange? Are you a regular at the Empire?" "Actually, the evening looked promising. A fun Saturday night with a very lively table. Many people were drunk by two o'clock, obviously Jason was one of them. I'm a regular at the bar, but Jason was there two or three times a month."The man jumped when the agents arrived and began to speak, half serious, half animated: "Oh, finally... I thought you were going to offer me a coffee... I've been waiting for at least half an hour and..." "Leave it to us." And one of them disappeared to retrieve some steaming cups of coffee, while the other shuffled the papers in the file, where the information was meticulously noted. The coffee was deliciously bitter, and the agents savored it effortlessly while the man tried to regain his formal posture. "Mr. Boris Barislow, you served in the Marines for 12 years, do you remember? Why did you leave the Marine Corps?" The old soldier's tone softened. "I left to join intelligence. This is classified information, and I would ask you not to make any entries in the records!" "Mr. Boris, this is not possible. Every statement you make will be made in full. We are responsible for making every statement you make to the competent authorities." Boris lowered his head slightly and began again. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. Where do we want to start? From the night of the murder." Of course, Gaston spoke up. "Certainly, there were a lot of people at the Empire that night? Did you notice anything strange? Are you a regular at the Empire?" "The evening actually looked promising, a fun Saturday night with a very lively table. Many people were drunk by two o'clock, obviously Jason was one of them. I'm a regular at the bar, but Jason was there two or three times a month." Boris wasn't at all frightened by the situation, but the two officers thought he was someone who could handle weapons with ease and had been seen near the hotel where Jason was staying... Gaston consulted his notes and verified the witness statements and asked: "Sir Barislow, can you tell us what time you left the bar? And where did you go next?" "I left the bar very late, around three when Jason had just left the table." "Then I came back, mmm about twenty minutes later." The inspectors pressed him: "You were seen near the hotel where Jason was staying, can you give us an explanation?" "I have no problem, the area is a block from my house, I frequent it willingly, I didn't know Jason was staying there.""Mr. Barislaw, have you ever met Jason in any other guise? Do you have any suspicions about who might have wanted to eliminate the young man? Do you know if he was in debt or was blackmailing anyone?" Boris seemed to startle and nodded. "It may seem impossible, but fifteen years ago I was sent to Eastern Europe on an expedition and Jason was contacted by some officials seeking information useful to our operations." "He was very smart, he was probably eighteen, a rookie." "I have no idea who wanted to eliminate the young man or whether he was blackmailing anyone." The two agents carefully noted down every piece of information. "Mr. Barislaw, did this boy represent a threat to you? Did he have compromising information?" Boris was once again taken aback but immediately clarified: "The operations we conducted are a distant past, Jason was a grown-up boy with many hopes, a few worries that I know of and a few women." "Mr. Barislow, where were you between 1am and 1.30am?" The question took him by surprise. "I don't remember, I must have smoked a cigarette, taken a breath of fresh air, it was hard to breathe inside." The inspectors looked at him with satisfaction. Their main suspect had to be monitored and his spontaneity was not convincing. "Please don't leave the city and remain available, this is your number?" Boris made another gesture, looking at the note. "Can I go now?" The two agents left him around 10.30am, the day was still just beginning.