Which story is better?
After the second question he said, “you ask a lot of questions.” I said, “Yeah I do. Does that bother you?”
He goes, “as a matter of fact it does. I don’t think I want to answer anymore of your questions.”
“Well then, you can hit the door.” My niece is sitting there shyly.
“You want to take her out, to leave the house with her, you’ll answer my questions.” They were like, where do you work? Where do you live? I’m not shy. I don’t care. You don’t like it, it’s just too bad. I finally told him, “you can leave.”
He said, “Mary, let’s go.”
She says, “I’m not going.”
Then he says,”Then I’ll stay.”
We started talking. The coffee table was glass, perfect, nothing on it, just been cleaned. So I was finally going to let them leave together. He was a real smart aleck.
So he puts his hands on the glass. Thump! And says, “Here. In case I don’t come back, you got a good set of prints.”
When he left, my other niece said, “Let me clean the table.” You could see all his ten fingers. I yelled, “Don’t touch the table, until she walks in the door!” I wouldn’t have done that years before.
In one case a suspect had killed six people. His defense attorney asked me if when his confession was given, had I taken notes. I told him, no, that I had just been babysitting while the other detectives took a break.
He asked, ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’re relying on your memory of what my client said?”
Boom! I sucked him right in. “Well, in my twenty-five years as a detective I have never interviewed a mass murderer before.”
“Your honor, I object!” snapped the lawyer.
The judge said, “You asked the question, counselor.”