Fired Up

A detective came out of the interview room, calling out for number eight; the manager waved him over, snapping his fingers like he wanted another glass of water.  Josh grabbed the manager’s sleeve and the manager shook him off.

“Sir, please leave me out of this,” said Josh.  “I don’t wish to be a witness.”

The detective walked over, stood impassively waiting for orders, knew he couldn’t offend the manager.  Didn’t like being ordered around, either, so he stood there, refusing to be the first to talk.

The manager talked to the detective, not taking his eyes off Josh while he did.  “Just wanted to know how the investigation’s going.”

The detective shrugged, irritated.  This rich jerk called him over for that, a personal status report?

“You’ll know as soon as we do, sir.”  He drew “sir” out to about five syllables, and left.





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